Apparently he hadn’t known I lived here now. Cordova got out of the cruiser and opened the rear door for me. I got out, stretching my legs. My head still pounded. “You interviewed Nancy Stein the day the Dentman boy drowned in the lake, didn’t you?” I asked him. “Huh?” It was probably the last thing he expected me to say. I shook my head. “Never mind.” Glancing at my house, I spotted Adam standing in the front doorway. “Christ.” “Yeah, well, you just take it easy,” Cordova said, climbing inside the car. “And you should probably go get your head checked out.” For one insane moment, I forgot about the bump on my head and assumed Cordova was recommending I consult with a psychotherapist. As I walked up the gravel path to the house, my brother’s formidable presence in the doorway like impending doom, I could hear the police car heading toward Main Street. Despite the cold, I was sweating. My shirt stuck to my chest, and I felt rivulets of perspiration running down the sides of my ribs from my armpits.
What do You think about Floating Staircase (2011)?
