Chapter 7: The Ring

On Monday morning I went to the Lang house for my mother's ring.

Jerome parked his truck at the end of the drive, behind the hedge, and turned off the engine.

"Ten minutes," he said. "Then I come in."

"If I'm not out in ten, don't knock. Call Joan."

"And do what?"

"Let her yell at somebody."

I slid my phone into the breast pocket of my coat, camera out, red light on, and walked up the drive.

Dirk opened the door before I knocked.

He was in his shirtsleeves, unshaven, with a mug in his hand.

"Hal." He sounded like a man who had not slept. "Thank God. Come in, it's freezing."

The foyer smelled the same as always. Lilies, floor wax, a fire in the front room.

Upstairs a door closed softly.

"Margaret's at the hospital," he said. "I thought we could talk."

"I came for my mother's ring."

"Of course." He set the mug on the hall table. "It's in the safe in the study. I put it there for safekeeping when you left."

"I didn't leave it with you."

"It was in your jewelry drawer. I didn't want anyone to take it."

"Anyone like your mother."

He winced.

"Hal, I know how it looks. Can I tell you something honestly? About the baby."

"Yes?"

"I didn't know. I swear it. It was one night in October at the Foundation retreat, we were both drunk, and it never happened again."

"One night," I said. "Not eleven months."

He stared at me.

"Eleven months of what?"

I had said too much. Eleven months was the number from the trial.

Keep reading free with an account. Start She Cried. They Buried Me. I Came Back. from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.