Cora’s head spun. “Do you think they want to kidnap you?”
“Or Charles. Or maybe she’s blackmailing my father. I
don’t know.”
“Do you think you ought to leave? If she knows where
you are . . .”
“I’ll send a wire to my father. She knows where we live at
home, too, so going back there wouldn’t solve the problem. I want
to keep it from Charles, but it’s probably safer if everyone is on
guard. We’ll talk with them about it. Besides, if Constance hasn’t
done anything yet, we’re probably safe for the time being. Right?”
Cora couldn’t find it in herself to agree. Nothing felt safe in
her town anymore.
Las Vegas, Nevada
October, 1948
twelve
A
RTHUR, NEEDED TO GET RID OF THOMAS AND CHARLES.
It was either that, or run away. Arthur could not bear
the thought of leaving Cora and Minnie behind, nor
could he devise a way to convince them to run with him.
But it was very clear to him now that whatever forces
were converging on this town, Thomas and Charles were
already tangled. He would not let Minnie and Cora be caught
as well.
He paced in his small attic room, a path well worn by his feet.
Dust motes hung lazily in the golden patches of dawn’s new light,
eddying and resettling every time he disturbed them.
The case called to him from its grave. There were lists in there,
connections his father had made. His mother kept the lists tacked
up, read them to herself. Mostly it was places but also names, and