by e-mail. I'll set up a temporary e-mail account with Hotmail or Yahoo! or whatever, with fake names. Nothing that can be traced back. But even if it could, even if you could find out who sent it, where would it lead you? All e-mails were sent and read at libraries or public places. We were totally covered."
Scott was about to mention that this total coverage had eventually landed Scanlon's ass in jail, but he decided to save it. "What does this have to do with me?"
"I'm getting to that." Scott could see that Scanlon was warming up to his own tale. "In the old days - when I say old days, I mean, eight, ten years ago - we did it mostly with pay phones. I'd never see the name written. The guy would just tell me over the phone."
Scanlon stopped and made sure that he had Scott's full attention. His tone softened a bit, became less matter-of-fact. "That's the key, Scott. It was by phone. I'd only hear the name on the phone, not see it."
He looked at Scott expectantly. Scott had no idea what he was trying to say, so he went, "Uh huh."
"Do you understand why I'm stressing that it was done by phone?"
"No."
"Because a person like me, a person with rules, could make a mistake with the phone."
Scott thought about that. "I still don't get it."
"I never kill women. That was rule number one."
"So you said."
"So if you wanted to put a hit on someone named Billy Smith, I'd figure Billy was a man. You know, with a y. I'd never think Billy would be a woman. With an ie at the end. You understand?"
Scott went very still. Scanlon saw it. He dropped the smile. His voice was very soft.
"We talked before about your sister, didn't we, Scott?"
Scott did not respond.
"Her name was Geri, am I right?"
Silence.
"You see the problem, Scott? Geri is one of those names. If you heard it on the phone, you'd assume it would be with a J in the front and a y at the end. So fifteen years ago, I got a phone call. From that go-between man I told you about..."
Scott shook his head.
"I was given an address. I was told exactly what time 'Jerry' " - Scanlon made quote marks with his fingers - "would be home."
Scott's own voice seemed to come from very far away. "It was ruled an accident."
"Most arsons are, if you know what you're doing."
"I don't believe you."
But Scott looked at the eyes again and felt his world teeter. The images flooded in: Geri's contagious smile, the unruly hair, the braces, the way she stuck her tongue out at him during family gatherings. He remembered her first real boyfriend (a dork named Brad), her not getting a date to the junior prom, the gung-ho speech she made when she ran for student council treasurer, her first rock band (they were awful), her college acceptance letter.
Scott felt his eyes well up. "She was only twenty-one."
No response.
"Why?"
"I don't get into the whys, Scott. I'm just a hired hand -"
"No, not that." Scott looked up. "Why are you telling me this now?"
Scanlon studied his reflection in the mirror. His voice was very quiet. "Maybe you were right."
"Right about what?"
"What you said before." He turned back toward Scott. "Maybe after all is said and done, I need the illusion of being human."
three months later
Chapter 1
There are sudden rips. There are tears in your life, deep knife wounds that slash through your flesh. Your life is one thing, then it is shredded into another. It comes apart as though gutted in a belly slit. And then there are those moments when your life simply unravels. A loose thread pulled. A seam gives way. The change is slow at first, nearly imperceptible.
For Grace Lawson, the unraveling began at the Photomat.
She was about to enter the photo developing shop when she heard a somewhat familiar voice. "Why don't you get a digital camera, Grace?"
Grace turned toward the woman. "I'm not good with that techno stuff."
"Oh, come now. Digital technology is a snap." The woman raised her hand and actually snapped, just in case Grace didn't know what the word meant. "And digital cameras are sooo much more convenient than conventional cameras. You just erase the photos you don't want. Like computer files. For our Christmas card? Barry, well, he must have taken a zillion pictures of the kids, you know, snapping away