Not far. Just through those last trees. Then we hit the vines.
What vines?
The ones around the house. Like a wall almost. You want to keep going?
Yes.
Okay, let’s go.
The wall of vines had been exactly as Ray described it, a tall impenetrable drapery of coiling green that hung from the trees and sprouted from the ground simultaneously, its sticky shafts so covered with the dry husks of thousands of insects that in certain places the vines themselves appeared like lengths of tightly knotted rope. The very look of it, Kinley remembered now, had unnerved him so much that he’d actually drawn back, his breath now coming in short, agonized gasps.
I think we’d better stop, Kinley.
Why?
You need to get back. I think you may need a doctor.
No.
You can’t really get to the old house anyway. There’s no break in the vines.
But I want …
No.
Ray had said it just that firmly. There was to be no argument in the matter. They would go no further. Then he’d taken Kinley by the arm and led him away, the great wall of green disappearing behind him forever.
“Forever,” Kinley whispered now, realizing that they’d never tried to find the old shack after that, but had simply let it sink, first from their conversation, then from their boyhood plans, and finally from their remembered hopes.
The phone rang again around ten. It was Serena again.
“I just wanted to tell you about the autopsy,” she said. “My mother called to let me know, and I thought you might want to hear about it, too.”
“Yes, I do.”
“It was a heart attack,” Serena said. “Massive. That’s what the doctor said. Massive.”
“So he died quickly,” Kinley said before he could stop himself.
“And so young,” Serena said. “I guess that’s why they wanted an autopsy.”
“Who did?”
“Mr. Warfield,” Serena said, “the District Attorney, the man he worked for.”
“Yeah. He didn’t run for Sheriff again. Didn’t he tell you that?”
“No.”
“Well, I guess he just got tired of it, decided not to run. That’s when he took this job with the District Attorney.”
“I see.”
“Anyway, Mr. Warfield wanted an autopsy.”
“It’s probably a good idea.”
“You know about this kind of thing, I guess. From your work, I mean.”
“A little.”
“He was a good man,” Serena said. “I’m just sorry he had to die alone, way down in the canyon.” She hesitated a moment, then added, “Looking for something, I guess. What do you think it was?”
Kinley shook his head silently. Maybe just a way through the vines, he thought.
The Chatham School Affair
A Bantam Book
PUBLISHING HISTORY
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1996 by Thomas H. Cook.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 96-4021
For information address: Bantam Books.
Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Random House, Inc., New York, New York.
eISBN: 978-0-307-43483-8
v3.0
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Part 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Part 2
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Part 3
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Part 4
Chapter 16
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Part 5
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
About the Author
Copyright