Alone by Lisa Gardner Read Free Book Online Page B

reaction falls within the normal category.”
    He nodded, but didn't lose that unsettled look. “Can I ask you another question? A general psychobabble sort of one?”
    “By all means, allow me to babble away.”
    “We get called out for domestic disturbances a lot. Seems three, four times a week I'm standing in someone's yard while the wife yells at the husband or the husband screams at the wife. One thing always strikes me—that we're gonna be back. That no matter how much these people pound on one another, they always stay together. And if you do get a little rough with the boyfriend while you're loading him into the squad car, nine times out of ten, the woman, the same one who called nine-one-one and is wearing the imprint of the guy's fist, will attack us for hurting her man.”
    “Domestic abuse is very complex,” she agreed, wondering where this was going.
    “So would it be strange to kill a woman's husband and have her thank you for it?”
    Elizabeth paused. “That reaction would be less common,” she said slowly.
    “That's what I thought.”
    “But that doesn't necessarily mean anything.”
    “It's gotta mean something, Doc, or she wouldn't have said it.”
    “Bobby, did you talk to Catherine Gagnon? Did you know Jimmy's wife?”
    “Nah, Doc. I can honestly tell you, we've never exchanged a word.”
    Bobby was already out in the reception area, donning his heavy wool jacket and rewrapping his scarf. Elizabeth trailed behind him, her radar working full power but unable to penetrate his screen.
    “See you Monday at three. Gee, it feels good to have an appointment.” Bobby rolled his eyes, gave her a little salute, headed for the door. Moments later, she watched him walk down Boylston Street, shoulders hunched against the cold, hands buried deep into the front of his jacket.
    Dr. Elizabeth Lane stood at the window long after his figure had passed from sight. Finally, she sighed.
    She hated what she had to do next.
    Elizabeth picked up the phone.
    “Hello.” A few moments passed. “So sorry. My condolences. I realize this is very awkward.” And then, “Again, I'm very sorry for the timing, sir, but we need to talk.”

Chapter
6
    T URNING INTO SOUTH Boston, Bobby tried to figure out what he should do next. The doctor was right; he was tired, hungry, stressed out. He should call it a night, hole up at home and get some rest. He lived on the first floor of a three-family row house—rented out the top two floors for a little income, really little actually, since one of the tenants, Mrs. Higgins, had come with the house. The previous owner had been charging her one hundred and five dollars a month for the past twenty years, and Bobby hadn't the heart to change terms on her. People were like that in Southie. They took care of one another, and even if he was still an outsider, one of the new bloods buying into the old neighborhood, he felt he should live up to the spirit of the place. So he kept Mrs. Higgins and her three cats at a hundred and five a month, and in return, she baked him chocolate chip cookies and told him stories of her grandkids.
    Mrs. Higgins was going to be disappointed with him now. She'd liked Susan, approved the way everyone else in Bobby's life approved. Susan was sweet, Susan was kind. Susan was grade-A wife material all the way.
    And it was over. Bobby had lied to the counselor earlier, maybe because the knowledge still stung. As of five hours ago, he and Susan were through. It had been a fantasy, and now it was done.
    He'd bolted awake shortly after one this afternoon, shaky and disoriented from the sound of traffic pouring through a sun-bright room. Ohmygod, he'd overslept his alarm. He was at the wrong house, he didn't have his uniform, oh shit, he was really in for it now—
    And then it came back to him. The night, the shooting, the spray of a man's brains across a distant room. He lay in Susan's bed, feeling his heart pound, and for a moment, he was afraid he was having a