Page 31 of Nine Lives

Jack stood up and shook Eric’s hand. He’d been prepared for the forceful grip of a young finance guy but was still shocked by just how much it actually hurt.

“Yeah, she told me about your book,” Eric said, “but couldn’t tell me anything about it, of course. I looked you up. Six months on the Times bestseller list. Not too shabby.”

“That was a long time ago,” Jack said.

“Jack’s going to come over to our house for dinner on Thursday night,” Margaret said, looking up at Eric’s profile. “It’s all planned. There will be no octopus on the menu.”

“Ri-ight,” Eric said, furrowing his brow at Jack as though they were the longtime friends, and Margaret was the stranger who said odd things.

“Margaret asked me what I ate, and I told her I ate anything but octopus.”

“Oh, man. You been to that Spanish place downtown? Something something tapas bar. The octopus there is fucking delicious. You’d change your mind, I promise you.”

Margaret threaded her arm through Eric’s and said, “Let’s leave Jack alone now. I need to start making dinner, anyway.”

Her husband turned to her, and Jack found himself focusing on the tendons in Eric’s neck. “You been drinking?” he said.

“I’ve had one drink, thanks to Jack’s hospitality.”

“You just kind of reek of gin. Whatcha making for dinner?”

“Come with me, and I’ll tell you. Jack, thanks for the drink. Looking forward to Thursday.”

They turned and made their way to their house, and Jack stood in place for a little while, feeling inordinately sad.

Back in the house he went from room to room, turning on lights. It was now fully dusk, his least favorite time of the day, and the only thing that kept the gloom from depressing him was a well-lit house. In the kitchen he opened up his refrigerator, wondering what he might have for dinner, even though he mostly felt like having another gin.

4

Monday, September 19, 10:06 a.m.

Jessica was looking at her travel bag, which was sitting on her coffee table. She was dressed in track pants and a hooded sweatshirt. It was going to be at least an eight-hour drive to get to Gwen’s cottage in Maine, and she wanted to be comfortable.

She made a sudden decision, went into her study, opened the closet, and found a large cardboard box filled with old paperwork that she’d been meaning to shred for about six months now. She dumped the paperwork out onto the floor of the closet and brought the box back with her into the living room, then transferred all of her clothes and toiletries into the box. That was better.

She’d already turned her iPhone off and put it in her desk drawer. It was going to be strange to be without it, but her life was strange now, no matter what.

She picked up the cardboard box with both arms, and awkwardly swung open her door, stepped outside onto her front step, and closed the door behind her. She walked to her Camry, and stowed the cardboard box on the backseat, aware she was being watched from the blue sedan parked over by the communal swimming pool. She walked in the car’s direction, waving at the occupant. The window rolled down as she got close enough to speak.

“Just letting you know I’m heading into the office to drop some things off. Then I’m coming straight back here.”

The man in the driver’s seat was familiar to her as a new agent at her office. He had the wide shoulders and distant eyes of a former member of the military. “That’s good timing, actually. I’m at the end of my shift.”

“You spot anything last night?”

“Just a late-night skinny dipper.”

Jessica laughed. “You mean Bob. Every night at midnight until about October. Sorry you had to see that.”

“Me too.”

“Are you heading back to the office?”

“I’ll follow you there, then return the car. You’ll be checking in with Agent Berlin, right?”

“I will.”

Jessica drove to the office, keeping an eye on the agent behind her. She pulled into the visitor’s lot, and he veered away to park where the company cars were kept. She swept the car around in a U-turn and exited out of the lot, then headed north on 787. She planned on working her way across Vermont and then New Hampshire and then into Maine, staying away from toll roads. She’d brought her old road atlas with her and was actually looking forward to finding a place using a physical map instead of GPS.

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