Page 112 of Not a Word

“Holden saw it all. Saw his mom shoot her. Saw his dad and I’m guessing you take her away. So Brent had it coming, too, if you ask me.”

“The gun,” Crane said.

“Huh?”

“Did Holden tell you anything about the gun?”

“He found it, in the pond. Fishing. Kept it, cleaned it up, got it to work.”

“It worked, but you killed the wrong person.”

“Whoa, whoa,” she said, raising her palms.

“What, you meant to kill that other woman?” Crane gave her a dismissive shake of the head. “That must have been a shock, finding out it wasn’t Catherine. You’d never seen her before, had you? Made an assumption. Here’s what I’d like to know. How’d you get Brent to blow his brains out? You drug him? Knock him out or something? Whatever you did, my hat’s off to you. Cops bought it.”

“Listen—”

“Did using the same gun make it special? Give it a kind of cosmic resonance?”

“Look,” she said, “forget the money. I don’t care anymore. Tell her she’ll never hear from me again. I’m done. I made my point. I wanted to rattle her.”

“Consider her rattled.” He was thinking. “You must have a burner you’ve been harassing her with?”

She nodded. Crane held out his hand. She pointed to her purse, which she’d left over on the couch. “May I?” she asked.

Crane nodded.

She walked over, pulled the phone from the bag, set it on the table. Crane pocketed it carefully, making sure his fingertips did not touch the tabletop.

“Fine, keep it. I don’t need it anymore.”

“Who else did Holden tell at rehab?”

“No one. Just me. I mean, I’m pretty sure. I had to pry it out of him. He never talked about it in the group, not the details, and I don’t think he told his doctor. I mean, if he had, the doctor would have had to report it, right? It’s not like he’s a priest.”

“So no one else?”

Alicia hesitated.

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothing to worry about.”

Crane stared at her, moved his lower jaw from side to side, saying nothing. He reached into his jacket and slowly withdrew a gun. It had something attached to it that was designed, Alicia thought, to dampen the noise when it was fired. Crane placed the gun on the table.

“Let me ask you again. Who else did Holden tell?”

Alicia’s eyes were on the gun. “I tell you, and we’re good, right?”

“Yes.”

“Far as I know,” she said, “only Gage.”

“Gage?”

She nodded. “His nephew. They’re close. But Gage wouldn’t tell a soul.”

“How old is this Gage?”