The Twenty-Three 3 (Promise Falls) by Linwood Barclay Read Free Book Online Page A

role of babysitter, which would allow him to have an even better sleepover with Sam at her place.
    That, however, was no longer the priority.
    David said to Marla, “Keep calling 911. I’m on my way. And whatever you do, don’t drink the water. It’ s—”
    He thought he’d heard a click. “Marla?”
    She’d gotten off the line.
    Fine. He had to call Sam. David brought up her number, tapped it. She had no landline, but her cell was usually close at hand.
    The phone rang.
    And rang.
    By the fourth ring, David was starting to panic. Suppose she and her son had risen early? Suppose they’d both had water from the tap?
    Six rings.
    Seven.
    He ended the call, opting for a text instead.
    He typed: CALL ME !
    Waited for a response, for those three little dots to indicate Sam was composing a reply.
    Nothing.
    He added: DONT DRINK TAP WATER
    As David ran for his car, he saw an unmarked police car wheel into the hospital lot, brakes screeching as it came to a halt.
    Detective Barry Duckworth behind the wheel.

FIVE
     
    RANDALL Finley had been up early, taking their dog, Bipsie, for a walk, and now sat on the edge of his wife’s bed. He put a gentle hand to her forehead, which felt warm and clammy, and asked, “How did you sleep?”
    She shifted her head on the pillow to take him in, blinked her eyes so slowly, it was like watching two garage doors close and open.
    “Okay,” she said weakly. “Help me up.”
    He got an arm under hers, shifted her forward slightly on the bed into a sitting position, propping pillows behind her.
    “That’s perfect,” she said.
    “I think you look good today,” he said, sitting back down. “Well rested.” Finley looked at the collection of pills, water bottle, reading glasses, and a Ken Follett novel big enough to chock a jetliner’s tire, set down open somewhere in the middle, the spine cracked.
    “Still working your way through this,” he said.
    “I really like it, but every time I start, I forget what I read last, so I have to go back.” She forced a smile. “I like it when you read to me.”
    He had taken to reading her a chapter every night when he got home. “I don’t have anything on today,” he said. “Maybe I can read a chapter this morning and another in the afternoon.”
    “Okay,” she said. “How about you? How did you sleep?”
    “Oh, you know. I never sleep that good.”
    “I thought I heard you up in the night. Did you go out after you left me?”
    “I don’t think so,” he said. “Maybe just for a bit of air.”
    Finley heard a car door close outside. “That must be Lindsay,” he said. The home care worker Finley had hired not long after his wife became ill. In addition to tending to Jane Finley’s needs, she made meals, cleaned the house, ran errands.
    “Isn’t this the holiday?” Jane asked.
    Finley nodded.
    “You should have given her the weekend off.”
    Finley shrugged. “Well, you never know. Something might come up. They might need me at the plant. If I have to take off in a hurry, she’s here for you.”
    Jane pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, pulled it away, making a soft clicking noise. “My mouth is so dry.”
    He reached for the half-empty bottle of Finley Springs water on the bedside table, uncapped it. He held it to her mouth, tipped it far enough to give her a few drops.
    “That’s good,” Jane said. “So, no campaigning today?”
    “I’m not sure. So many people are away, gone to their cottages, or working on their gardens, doing spring cleaning. I don’t think anyone’s going to pay much attention to a gasbag like me today.”
    She reached out a weak hand and touched his arm. “Stop that.”
    Finley smiled. “I know what I am, sweetheart. And I’m good at it.”
    That made her laugh, but the chuckle then sent her into a coughing fit. Finley got a hand behind her back and leaned her forward until she was done.
    “You done?” he said, easing her back.
    “I think so. A bit of water went down the wrong