Harlan Coben - Play Dead

‘I don’t know what the hell – ’

‘Listen to me. I know David’s drowning was a fake. And I know why he did it. I don’t want to cause any trouble. I just want you to tell me where I can find him.’

T.C. said nothing.

‘It’s a matter of life and death,’ James urged. ‘Laura’s life is in danger. I have no interest in revealing his secret. I only want to talk to him.’

T.C. shrugged. ‘David is dead, Dr Ayars – ’

‘Damn it! Judy has already been murdered. Stop playing games – ’

‘ – but,’ T.C. continued evenly, ‘if you just want to speak with Mark Seidman, he shoots baskets at the Boston Garden every morning from now until about eight a.m. He’s alone in there, if you need to talk to him.’

‘Does he use the same side entrance David used to use?’

T.C. nodded.

‘Thank you,’ James said and turned to leave. Perfect. No one would be in the Garden this early. James could sneak up on David, put the gun against his head (just like he had done with David’s father), and fire.

And at long last it would be over.

James jogged back to his car. His hands were in his pockets – one touching his car keys, the other touching the weapon he would use in his next (and last) murder.

Gloria chose not to read about May 30, 1960 right away. Judy’s journal was like a bad-tasting medicine that could only be swallowed in moderate doses – and May 29, 1960 had given her more than a mouthful.

She put down the diary, walked into the kitchen, and poured herself a cup of coffee. She glanced out the window. Laura too had a view of the Charles River. Gloria remembered how much Stan had loved to look at that river, how he cherished the time he spent just staring out from the balcony. He was such a simple man really, a simple man who had turned down a few wrong paths and could never find his way out of the thicket. Gloria had found him there. She had begun to lead Stan into the clearing when someone killed him.

Someone, nothing. Her father had done it.

How? she wondered. How could a man full of love be such a monster underneath? She did not know the answer. She was not sure she wanted to know. She sipped her coffee, sat back on the couch, picked up the diary and read about -

May 30, 1960.

Gloria’s eyes widened.

Blood…

Soon the words began to swim in front of her eyes. Her stomach contracted painfully. Images, horrible, terrible images -

Blood, there was so much blood… – jerked her mind back and forth. Gloria’s darkest nightmare was coming to life, chasing after her with -

blood…

with a lust for destruction. She had been so young at the time, just a little girl, and mercifully she had never remembered what had happened.

‘Mommy! Mommy!’

‘Get out of here, Gloria. Get out of here now!’

But that was about to change. Visions jolted her, stinging her nerves. All of a sudden, Gloria was a five-year-old child moving down that darkened hallway again, except this time she knew where she was heading: her parents’ bedroom. She was thirsty and wanted a drink of water. So she took Floppy Rabbit with her and began to trek down the hallway toward her mommy and daddy’s bedroom.

Gloria wanted to turn away from the diary, to close the book and never open it again. But her eyes were locked to the pages, moving over the words at a brisk, even pace. The words were opening a door that had been closed in her mind since childhood. Suddenly, little Gloria was in front of her parents’ bedroom door again. She stood up on her tippy-toes and stretched for the door knob. Floppy Rabbit was cocked under her elbow.

‘Get out of here, Gloria, Get out of here now!’

The knob turned in her hands. Soon, Gloria would see what was behind that door. She had spent her whole life forgetting this moment, but now the image was being forced upon her. Even when she closed her eyes she could still see the door swinging open.

She looked inside the room. And remembered. And screamed.

Gloria put down the diary. She was shaking. The words Judy had written about May 30 1960 revealed everything. It was all true. Every last word was true. Her father had killed Sinclair and Judy and Stan and…

… and what about David?

The doorman’s intercom buzzed again. Gloria walked over to the squawk box. She noticed on the kitchen clock that it was nearly seven in the morning. Who would be visiting them now?

‘Yes?’

‘There is a Richard Corsel down here to see Laura,’ the security guard said. ‘He says it’s urgent.’

Laura had just mentioned his name. He was the man at the Heritage of Boston Bank who’d transferred David’s money. ‘Send him up.’

As Gloria sat and waited, the reality of what she had just read sank into her brain like a concrete brick in quicksand. Her heart hammered away in her chest. The truth became apparent, and even more tragic than she could have ever dared imagine. She grabbed the diary off the couch, flipped forward in time, and read onward. Soon, her eyes found what she had already known to be true. The words on the page merely reconfirmed her darkest fear:

Her mother had been wrong. David and Laura were not brother and sister.

Laura pulled into the driveway and leaped out of the car. There were still so many holes that needed to be plugged up: David’s ring under her pillow, his missing money, and maybe most of all, the reason Judy had waited so long to try and say something. Laura did not know why but she was sure that was the crux, that once that was answered the rest would fall into place.

She did not bother to ring the bell and warn her parents of her early morning arrival. She simply unlocked the door and stepped into the front foyer.

‘Laura?’

She turned toward the voice. Her mother was sitting on the couch, wearing a robe.

‘Where is Dad?’

Mary’s face clouded over. ‘He’s not here.’

‘Where did he go?’

‘I don’t know. He stayed in his study all night. Oh Laura, you’re not going to tell him, are you? Please – ’

‘He already knows,’ Laura said evenly. ‘He’s known for thirty years.’

Mary’s head fell to the side, ‘What?’

‘Judy told him the day after you told her. I have Judy’s diary from 1960. It’s all in there.’

Mary’s face twisted in puzzlement. ‘But that’s not possible. He never said one word to me.’

Laura’s words spilled forward in wild gasps. ‘Judy was furious at you for stealing Sinclair from her. Telling Dad was her way of getting revenge. But she never expected him to lose control. He murdered Sinclair Baskin right after you left the office.’

Mary’s mouth dropped open. ‘It can’t be.’

‘It’s true.’

‘But James never said a word. He never threw me out. He loved you and raised you like his own. Why?’

‘I don’t know, Mother. I suspect it has something to do with his love for you.’

Mary’s whole face emanated bleakness. She shook her head. ‘Not James,’ she said weakly. ‘He’s a doctor. He would never hurt anyone.’

She knelt beside her mother. ‘We have to find him, Mother. We have to confront him and find out what really happened.’

The roar of a blasting engine made them both turn. Laura opened the front door and peered out. Gloria’s car raced up the road at what had to be a hundred miles an hour. As she turned into the driveway, one of the tires swung up onto the grass but Gloria did not pause or even hesitate until she came to a stop near the front door. She jumped out of the car.

‘Gloria, what the hell – ’ Laura saw her sister’s face and stopped. Gloria’s eyes were wide and frenzied and out of control. Her right hand grasped the diary and a white envelope.