James Patterson - Honeymoon

“Neither was the case.”

“You know that, and to be perfectly candid and off the record, I know that. Unfortunately, John O’Hara doesn’t.”

Nora pulled back the paper lid on one of those oversize thimbles of half-and-half. She dumped it in her coffee. Added two sugars.

“You know what?” she said. “Tell O’Hara he can keep the money. I don’t want it.”

“I wish it were that simple, Nora. Centennial One actually has a legal obligation to pay off the policy, barring any discrepancies. Strange as it may sound, you don’t have a choice in this matter.”

She lowered her elbows onto the table. Then her head dropped into her hands. When she lifted it back up I could see a tear rolling down her cheek. She whispered: “You’re literally going to dig up Connor’s coffin? That’s what you’re going to do?”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, and actually I did feel bad. What if she was innocent? “You can see why I didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone. The only thing I can tell you is that if I were O’Hara, I’d never do something like this.”

As I said those words, watching as she dried her eyes with her napkin, I couldn’t help thinking about my father and his words.

Things aren’t always as they appear.

I still couldn’t tell if Nora’s tears were real or fake, but this much I did know. She’d come to despise John O’Hara. And the more she hated him, the more I could gain her trust.

Pretty ironic, I had to admit.

For John O’Hara wasn’t out in Chicago at the home office of Centennial One Life Insurance.

Instead, John O’Hara was sitting in a booth at the Blue Ribbon Diner, eating a slice of apple pie and answering to the name of Craig Reynolds.

And insurance wasn’t exactly my game.

Part Three

VERY DANGEROUS GAMES

Chapter 52

SUSAN WAS BARKING in my ear. She was pissed. “What do you mean, you told her we were exhuming Brown’s body?”

“Trust me, it’s to our advantage,” I said. “More than ever, Nora thinks I’m on her side. Plus, you told me yourself that digging up the body poses a risk. She could find out on her own.”

“I said it poses a small risk.”

“And what I’m saying is that we just turned it around to our advantage.”

“ We didn’t do anything, O’Hara. You did this on your own without discussing it with me first.”

“So I winged it a bit.”

“No, you winged it a lot. That’s your trademark, isn’t it? That’s what gets you in trouble,” she groused. “There’s a reason we have a game plan, and that’s so we both know what the other is doing.”

“C’mon, Susan, at least agree this plays into our favor.”

“That’s not the point. I need you to be a team player, understand? You’re not the undercover cop anymore.”

I hesitated, but then said, “You’re right. I’m the undercover federal agent.”

“Not for long if you call any more audibles like that. I don’t like cowboys.”

Neither of us said anything for a few seconds. I broke the silence. “You know, I liked it better when you were building me up.”

Susan managed a small, frustrated laugh.

“Tell me, genius,” she said, “now that Nora knows we’re about to dig up her fiancé, what’s your next move?”

“That’s easy,” I answered. “We wait for the results. If our lab says foul play, we’ve got our killer.”

“You’ll still need evidence that she did it.”

“Which happens to be a lot easier to find when you know what you’re looking for.”

“What if the lab doesn’t find anything?”

“Then I tell Nora the good news and work that much harder to trip her up.”

“You’re forgetting one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“She might actually be innocent.”

“This coming from someone who thinks everyone’s guilty.”

“I’m just saying…”

“No, I understand. Anything’s possible. But the woman has been involved with at least two dead guys in two different states. If it’s a coincidence, then Nora Sinclair has had some serious bad luck with men.”

“Silly me,” she said. “Let’s strap her to the electric chair.”

“There we go, much better. I thought you were someone else for a second.”

“Speaking of which, what are the odds Nora develops eyes for your alter ego?”

“Nah. Craig Reynolds isn’t in her league,” I said. “He doesn’t make enough money.”

“You never know. You’ve been telling me how much she thinks you’re on her side. Based on that, she might want to slum it for a change.”

“Then I’ve got just the apartment. Perfect for slumming.”

“You’re not going to start on that again, are you?”

“No, but if I end up spending too much more time in that dump, I’m going to put in for hazard pay.”

“O’Hara, should that turn out to be the hardest part of this assignment, you’ll be a lucky man.”

Chapter 53

NORA GENTLY PUSHED through the door of her mother’s room at the Pine Woods Psychiatric Facility and tried her best to smile. She was in a horrible mood and she knew it. So did anyone else who came into contact with her—Emily Barrows and that new nurse, Patsy, being the most recent, when she had arrived on the psych ward.

For a little while, she pretended as if she had never met Craig Reynolds for coffee the day before. She acted as if he never told her that Connor’s body was going to be exhumed.

“Hello, Mother.”

Olivia Sinclair was sitting on top of the covers in her yellow nightgown. She glanced at Nora with a blank smile. “Oh, hello.”

The clouds that were hanging low for most of the day had begun to clear. Sunlight now sliced its way into the room through the horizontal blinds. Nora grabbed the chair in the corner and pulled it to the bed.

“You’re looking well, Mother.”

Any daughter would’ve said that. The difference with Nora was that she actually believed it. She no longer used her eyes to see her mother. Only her memories. If anything, it was force of habit. After Olivia was sent off to prison, Nora was never allowed to visit. As she grew up, her mother stayed frozen in time. Nora went through a series of foster homes, and her idea of Olivia was one of the only constants in her life.

“I like to read, you know.”

Oh, shit. “I know you do, Mother. I’m afraid I forgot to get you a book this time. Things have been… well, they’ve been—”

A lawn mower started up on the grounds outside. The raw churning of the motor penetrated the room and gave Nora a jolt. She suddenly felt paralyzed and out of breath. The only thing working was her tears. Her facade crumbled, and the outside world came pouring in. She wiped her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mother.”

For the first time, Nora told her mother about a recurring dream of watching Olivia shoot her father. How vivid in her mind the night remained. What was said, what everyone was wearing, even the smell of sulfur.

What does it matter? She doesn’t even know who I am.

Nora grabbed a tissue from the bedside table. It was as if the dam had burst. Her tears. Her emotions. Everything pouring out. She was losing control. There was an overwhelming compulsion to talk to someone.

Nora drew the deepest breath, coaxing her lungs to expand. Finally exhaling, she closed her eyes and spoke. “I’ve done some terrible things, Mother. I need to tell you about them.”

Nora opened her eyes, the truth on the tip of her tongue. But that’s where it stayed. Something awful was happening to her mother.

Springing from her chair, Nora ran to the door. She burst out into the hallway and screamed, “Help! Hurry! I need help! My mother is dying!”