Next of Kin (44 page)

‘Maybe you just didn’t learn their rules early enough.’

Finn shrugged. ‘I guess we’ll never know.’ He stepped away. ‘I’ve got to be getting home.’

Long nodded. ‘Must be nice to have a family.’ Finn just stared back, saying nothing. ‘There’s more to all this, isn’t there?’ Long asked.

It took a moment for Finn to respond. ‘Do you have something specific to ask me, Detective?’

Long stared back at Finn, and Finn could hear his own heart beating in his ears. Finally, Long let his gaze drop and he sighed heavily. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not now.’

‘Okay,’ Finn said.

‘I may be in touch, though. Later.’

Finn looked around at his surroundings. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ He pulled his car keys out of his pocket. ‘I’ll be seeing you, Detective.’

‘Yeah,’ Long replied. ‘I’ll be seeing you.’

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

‘What are you going to do?’

Finn was leaning against the railing that surrounded the roof deck of the penthouse apartment on Beacon Street Lissa and Kozlowski shared. It was a spectacular view, for which it was well worth
suffering the chill of the late October evening. Finn didn’t feel the cold anymore; he was numb.

Sally asked the question. She, Lissa and Kozlowski had listened quietly in the living room as Finn told them. He told them everything, straight through. No one interrupted him. He needed to
talk; needed to hear himself voice all that he’d learned so that he could start to truly digest it. When he was done, he sat there for a few moments in silence before going upstairs to the
roof to look out at his city. They gave him some time before they went up after him. There were chairs and a table, and they sat down in the cold. Finn, standing at the railing, heard them, but
didn’t turn around.

‘I don’t know,’ Finn said.

‘She killed a woman,’ Kozlowski said. Even with all the change Lissa and his son had brought to his life, his vision was still largely black and white.

‘She did,’ Finn said.

‘She’s your mother,’ Lissa pointed out.

‘She is.’

‘What does that matter?’ Kozlowski asked. ‘We don’t have different rules based on who it is we’re dealing with.’

‘No?’ Lissa asked. ‘If Andrew breaks the law when he’s older would you turn him in? How about me? Would you turn me in?’

‘That’s different,’ Kozlowski said.

‘How?’

Kozlowski shook his head and said, ‘It just is. We’re not talking about someone who raised him. We’re talking about someone who abandoned him. It’s different.’

‘Maybe. It still doesn’t seem right.’

‘There is no right,’ Sally said quietly. Kozlowski and Lissa looked at her. ‘There is no right thing to do here. Every option is wrong. There’s no point in talking about
it in those terms. The only thing that matters is what Finn decides to do. Whatever that is, it’s fine, because there is no better decision.’

No one said anything for a while. Finally, Finn began to talk again. He was still looking out at the expanse of the Charles River, and the Esplanade that ran dark along the near shore. In the
distance the dome of one of the main buildings at MIT shone bright. The buildings along the far side glowed warm in the autumn chill. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I used to daydream
about my parents – I used to come up with all sorts of stories about why they had left me. Silly, romantic, childish stories borrowed from Walt Disney movies and Grimms’ fairytales and
King Arthur and all that.’

‘It wasn’t that far off,’ Sally said. ‘A little darker, maybe.’

Finn gave an angry laugh. ‘A mob executioner and a society killer. Yeah, a little darker, I’d say.’

‘That’s not who they were when you were born. They were two kids. She was a princess. Trapped. He was the son of a chauffeur, and he couldn’t save her. In some ways it is a
fairy tale.’

‘Without the happily ever after.’

‘I guess that’s up to you.’ Sally walked over to the railing, stood next to Finn, a couple of feet away, looking out at the same view. ‘You look at my parents – who
they are, what they did, how I was raised – by rights I should be dead or in jail right now. I’m not. I’m not just bits and pieces of their failures. Neither are you.’

He nodded. ‘No, I’m not.’ He was still looking out over the river. ‘It’s a nice view from up here,’ he said.

‘I didn’t even know views like this existed a year ago,’ Sally agreed.

‘So,’ Lissa said from behind them. ‘What’s the answer?’

Finn turned around and looked at Lissa and Kozlowski. ‘I can’t turn her in,’ he said. ‘She’s my mother. I won’t lie for her; if the cops show up and they ask
the right questions, I’m not going to risk my life for hers. But I can’t go to them on my own.’ He thought about it for a long moment. ‘That’s the best compromise I
can come up with. I can live with that.’

Kozlowski nodded. ‘Girl’s right; there is no right or wrong here. Cops may figure this out on their own. They’ve gotta be digging into the connection between Buchanan and
McDougal. They’ll start asking questions at some point.’

‘You think?’ Finn asked.

‘Maybe.’

‘Are you going to call her? Talk to your sister, maybe? Try to reconnect with your family?’ Lissa asked.

Finn looked around at the three of them. ‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘I’ve already got a family.’

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank and acknowledge:

Trisha Jackson, whose assistance with this book has been invaluable. Thank you so much, I could not have done this without you.

All of the wonderful people at Pan Macmillan who have helped put this together on all fronts, including Thalia Suzuma, Helen Guthrie, Maria Rejt, Ali Blackburn, Stuart Wilson, Eli Dryden, Toni
Byrne, Sarah Willcox, Matt Hayes, and Michelle Taylor.

Joanie Hosp, Richard Hosp, Martha Hosp, Ted Hosp and Joan McCormick, for giving helpful comments on early drafts.

Aaron Priest, Lisa Erbach-Vance, and everyone at the Aaron Priest Literary Agency, who are the best agents and friends a writer could have.

As always, my children, Reid and Samantha, as well as family and friends too numerous to mention, but too important to forget – thank you all for your love and support.

Finally, I would like to acknowledge Ann Fessler, with whom I did a book talk and signing at Cape Cod a few years ago. Her book,
The Girls Who Went Away
, was a great resource for the
policies and practices involving adoption after the Second World War. I recommend it to anyone who is interested in further information on the subject.

David Hosp is a trial lawyer who has spent a portion of his time working pro bono on behalf of wrongly convicted individuals. He finds time to write his novels on his daily
commute by boat across Boston Harbour. He lives with his wife and family outside the city.

Critical acclaim for David Hosp

‘Hosp hits the trifecta – brilliant, brawny, and totally believable’

David Baldacci

‘Hosp is a born storyteller, a master of quirky character and detail who enthrals through the simple, but elusive, expedient of never seeming to write a dull
sentence’

Daily Telegraph

‘Brilliant . . . handled with page-igniting panache’

Daily Telegraph
Top 50 Summer Reads 2009

‘This is a knock out; Grisham with passion, even a touch of the great Michael Connelly thrown in . . . It crackles from the first page to the last and never lets up for a
second’

Daily Mail

‘A top-notch tale . . . Fast paced and gritty; Hosp knows his stuff and it shows in this suspense-filled novel’

Nelson DeMille

Also by David Hosp

Innocence

Among Thieves

Dark Harbour

The Betrayed

First published 2011 by Macmillan

This electronic edition published 2011 by Macmillan
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
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www.panmacmillan.com

ISBN 978-0-230-75939-8 PDF
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Copyright © David Hosp 2011

The right of David Hosp to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital,
optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be
liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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