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Authors: John Saul

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“They were making threats,” Bettina said. “They seemed to think that somehow the accident was Sarah and Nick’s fault. …”

Her voice trailed off, but Kate was sure there was more—much more—to the story. “And?” she prompted.

“And they left,” Bettina said, her eyes never leaving Kate’s.

“Left,” Kate repeated. She glanced from Bettina to the other people in the room. “I’m not sure I’m following you. The sheriff and the Garveys came out here accusing Sarah and—Nick, is it?—of causing an accident that killed the sheriff’s son, and they just
… left?
Where did they go?”

“I don’t know,” Bettina replied. “But I don’t think they’ll be back.” Before Kate could say anything else, Lily Dunnigan spoke.

“There’s something else you should know. Sarah is Bettina’s daughter.” She fell silent for a moment, then seemed to gather herself. “Bettina’s and my husband’s. She is Nick’s half sister.” Kate stared at Lily Dunnigan, stunned, but Lily wasn’t finished. “Shep raped her,” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “While I was pregnant with Nick, the man I was married to came out here and raped Bettina. Which I suppose at least explains why he always hated her.”

“And you said he was here last night, too?”

Lily nodded. “He was going to take Nick back to the hospital.” She took her son’s hand protectively, almost as if afraid Kate might try to take him away. “Nick’s had problems ever since he was little, and Shep—” She cut herself off, apparently deciding she might be saying too much. Then her voice hardened. “Shep wanted to have Nick committed again.”

For a long moment Kate studied the four people around her. “And they all left and you don’t know where they went?”

“Actually none of us really knows exactly what happened last night,” Bettina said. “This is a strange house—”

“It’s a
great
house,” Nick broke in. “And I was never crazy. I just—” He hesitated, glanced at Sarah, then went on. “—I just have a sort of talent, kind of like Sarah. She can draw things, and I can … I don’t know—sort of visualize and hear them, I guess.”

Kate’s mind was churning, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. It would be easy to prove whether Bettina was Sarah’s mother—either adoption records or a DNA test would do it—but now that she was looking at both of them sitting side by side, she was sure what the outcome would be. As for the rest of it … “I understand two deputies have already been here this morning?”

Bettina nodded. “We told them exactly what we told you, that the people they were looking for were here, and they left. They searched the house and the garage and everywhere else.”

“Looking for what?” Kate asked. “Surely they didn’t think—”

“I have no idea what the deputies thought,” Bettina broke in. “But I’m sure they’ll be back, and there will be all kinds of other people with them. And I’m sure people will talk. But the fact of the matter is, none of us have any idea where Dan West and Shep Dunnigan and Mitch and Angie Garvey went.” She paused for a moment, then went on. “And frankly, we don’t really care, either, as long as they don’t come back. And they won’t—
that
, we’re pretty sure of.”

“How can you be so sure?” Kate countered. “If you don’t know where they went, how can you be sure they won’t be back?”

Before Bettina could answer Kate’s question, Nick Dunnigan said, “This house. It didn’t like them. It’s a great house, and it likes us, but it didn’t like them. It didn’t like them at all. And there were reasons why.”

Kate sat back in the chair, preparing herself for what she was certain was going to be a long story. “I’m listening,” she said.

Epilogue

T
his was not how it was supposed to be!

Tiffany Garvey was not supposed to be standing in a hot kitchen, sweat dripping down her back as she tried to make the baby eat at least one spoonful of the disgusting pureed peas the brat’s miserable mother insisted she feed it.

And Tiffany Garvey was certainly not supposed to be taking orders from anyone like Rowena Matheson, who’d only taken her and Zach in because instead of paying for staff, she’d found out the county would pay her to take in foster children.

Foster children!

Tiffany silently cursed her parents as Brian Matheson the Third spat more peas on the front of her blouse.

Brian Matheson the Third! What a pile of crap—Brian Matheson the
Turd
was more like it.

And it was all her parents’ fault. If they hadn’t taken off while she was still in the hospital after Sarah Crane and Nick Dunnigan tried to kill her, she’d be home where she belonged.

And Sarah and Nick would be in Juvenile Hall, or wherever they sent people like them. But no—they’d gotten off scot-free, even though they’d killed Conner West, and probably Conner’s dad and Nick’s father, too.

Maybe even her own parents!

Well, it wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right, and when she turned eighteen—

The baby’s mouth opened then and a stream of vomit shot out, hitting Tiffany square in the chest. Her own gorge rising as the nauseating smell filled her nostrils, Tiffany ran to the sink, barely reaching it in time to throw up there rather than on the floor.

The sink, at least, was a lot easier to clean than the floor, which she’d already mopped once today.

She was just rinsing the vomit off her shirt when Zach walked into the kitchen through the back door.

“Oh, jeez,” he groaned as he smelled not only the baby’s puke but his sister’s as well. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Tiffany shot back. “If—”

“Zachary?” a cold voice cut in.

They both turned to see Rowena Matheson framed in the door to the dining room, looking cool and fresh in a beige silk blouse and pants, despite the heat of the August day. Her feet were strapped into sandals Tiffany was sure had cost at least six hundred dollars, and every hair on her head was perfectly in place.

Why wouldn’t it be, Tiffany thought, when she had to wash it for her every afternoon?

“Have you fed the dogs their supper and cleaned the kennels yet?”

Tiffany shot Zach a warning look as his face reddened and the vein in his forehead began to throb exactly the way their father’s used to just before his temper exploded.

“No, ma’am,” he said, struggling to keep his voice from betraying his fury.

But Rowena read his face perfectly, and her eyes narrowed. “You know we only wanted one foster child.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Zach said.

Tiffany watched him force himself to keep his eyes down. Mrs. Matheson had told them on the first day that they were never, under any circumstances, to make eye contact with her.
You are here to make my life easier. You are not my friends or my family, and you will not expect to be treated as such. You will be respectful at all times
.

“Keeping you two together was a gift,” Mrs. Matheson went on now.
“The least you can do is show your gratitude by keeping the kennels clean. Am I perfectly clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Zach muttered.

“Then let’s not stand around the kitchen keeping your sister from her chores. She’ll keep a dinner plate warm for you.”

Zach backed wordlessly out the back door, and all ten of Brian Matheson, Jr.’s German shorthair hunting dogs began to bark. Tiffany glanced out the window as Zach picked up the shovel, a bucket, and the hose.

Rowena Matheson smiled at her baby and gave him a little wave. “Isn’t Trip the most perfect baby you’ve ever seen?” she said. “You’re very fortunate to be able to take care of him—I don’t know how many nannies applied for the job.”

Who you couldn’t have treated like slaves, Tiffany thought, keeping her expression carefully bland so Rowena couldn’t see what was in her mind.

Then Rowena came to the real point of her visit to the kitchen. “We’re ready for dinner, Tiffany,” she said. “You may serve.”

Dinner!

Was it even ready?

Tiffany glanced around the kitchen in a panic. “Right away,” she said as Rowena Matheson turned and vanished into the dining room.

Tiffany pulled the salad she’d put together an hour ago out of the refrigerator and prayed that would hold them until she could finish garnishing the soup—a cold cucumber one that had taken her all morning to prepare—with the parsley the Mathesons always demanded.

“It just doesn’t look right without it,” Rowena had explained the one time Tiffany failed to add the parsley. “And it’s not as if it’s any trouble for you.” It had been a statement, not a question, and Tiffany had already known better than to argue with either of the Mathesons about anything, even if she had the time, which she didn’t.

In fact, she had no time for anything anymore. No time for friends—which she didn’t have anymore anyway—and no time for homework and no time to be a girl.

No time, even, to call Kate Williams and complain about the home in which she and Zach had been placed.

But when she turned eighteen …

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

House of Reckoning
is John Saul’s thirty-sixth novel. His first novel,
Suffer the Children
, published in 1977, was an immediate million-copy bestseller. His other bestselling suspense novels include
Faces of Fear, In the Dark of the Night, Perfect Nightmare, Black Creek Crossing, Midnight Voices, The Manhattan Hunt Club, Nightshade, The Right Hand of Evil, The Presence, Black Lightning, The Homing
, and
Guardian
. He is also the author of the
New York Times
bestselling serial thriller
The Blackstone Chronicles
, initially published in six installments but now available in one complete volume. Saul divides his time between Seattle, Washington, and Hawaii.

House of Reckoning
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2009 by John Saul

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

B
ALLANTINE
and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

eISBN: 978-0-345-51689-3

www.ballantinebooks.com

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