Chapter 13: The Front Door

I got Timothy's wife to the ambulance, and Timothy went with her.

He did not ask me to stay.

He only said, "Go get him," and held her hand.

In the truck I took out my phone and pressed record.

Timothy had told me years ago that if you ever walk into a rich man's house, you bring a witness that can't be paid.

I put the phone in my shirt pocket and drove to the hill.

The guard at the gate saw my face and picked up a telephone.

I left the truck across the drive, with the engine running and the door open.

Then I walked up the lawn and in through the front door, the one twice my height.

The hall was bigger than the shop and the flat together.

The housekeeper stood by a table of white flowers.

The young woman in the grey cardigan stood on the stairs with a book in her hand.

Two men in dark suits stood by the dining room door.

Alistair came out of a side room with his hands folded, as if I were a guest who had arrived early.

"Mr. Cronin. You've come for supper."

"Where is my son?"

"Upstairs, in his room."

"He doesn't have a room here."

"He has one now. Blue walls, a telescope, a shelf of books. His tutor is going over his letters with him."

"Two men took him from my friend's kitchen."

"I'm sorry for the misunderstanding."

"They hit a sixty-year-old woman in the face. She's in an ambulance."

Alistair turned his head a little toward the housekeeper, who looked at the flowers.

"My driver exceeded his instructions," he said. "I will see that she is looked after."

Keep reading free with an account. Start Contract Over: You're Free to Go from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.