“Oh, hush! Watch the game.” Pam turned to the court.
Jake half-watched the game, contentedly. Bottom line, he was happy to be alive. His stomach still hurt from time to time, but he’d even started running with Ryan. In fact, he’d already lost two pounds. Well, it was a start.
Jake sensed the worst was over. Dr. Dave had pleaded guilty to both murders and was sentenced to life without parole, thus avoiding the death penalty. The media had moved on almost instantly, though the gossip lingered in their development, at school, in social media, and in the financial-services community. They would forever be the family who had left the scene of a hit-and-run, but they tried to hold their heads high. Jake hadn’t lost his certification, and Amy and almost all of his employees stayed with him. His remaining clients were making money, so he hoped that word-of-mouth would attract new ones. If it didn’t, he’d stay small or start over. He’d learned there were worse things in life than losing your job.
Pam nudged him, pointing to the court. “Honey, look. Tiffany’s going to shoot.”
“She’ll miss.”
“Don’t be that way.”
“Please. They always miss. The final scores are, like, three to two.”
Pam hit his leg playfully. “Aw, but she’s so cute. I love that little girl.”
“That’s true. She’s adorable.” Jake watched Tiffany shove the basketball two-handed into the air, then it fell to the court, bouncing away.
“Oh well.” Pam chuckled, shaking her head. Both teams raced after the ball, tumbling over one another, a rolling mob of flailing arms and outstretched fingers.
“Looks like a shoe sale at Nordstrom’s,” Jake said, and Pam laughed, which pleased him no end. They were back in therapy, putting their marriage back together, sometimes with Ryan, too. Pam had been depressed for months, but had begun to come around after the headlines died down. The local law firms didn’t make her a job offer, so she was working as a contract lawyer, writing briefs for the big, white-shoe firms in Philly. They wouldn’t put her name on the papers, but they were happy to have her brainpower. They’d considered moving away from Concord Chase, but decided against it, unanimously. It wouldn’t work in the age of Facebook, and they were through with family secrets.
Ryan had gotten through a predictably difficult junior year, with the school and the team in turmoil. The Chasers lost to Lower Merion in the championship, and the basketball recruiters never called Ryan again, though he’d weathered the social storm at school and kept his grades up. The assistant-coaching gig had fulfilled his community service obligation, but he’d already finished the required hours. He’d found a calling in coaching and landed a summer job assistant-coaching in the playground league, for the Concord Chase Rec Department. He was even talking about applying to colleges closer to home. Pam was relieved he wouldn’t be leaving the nest completely, and Jake acted like he was happy on her behalf, but he was happy for himself. He loved spending time with Ryan, and it turned out that he didn’t have to compete with Call of Duty. On the contrary, he learned to play video games.
Jake watched Ryan calling to the kids on the sidelines, and his heart swelled with pride. He went to all the games, just to watch Ryan, and felt as if he was finally gaining ground with their son. Ryan, Pam, and he spent more time together than ever before, maybe because nobody else would talk to them. Turned out there was nothing like a public shunning to bring a family closer.
The cheering crowd leapt to its feet, and one of the girls on the opposing team blew past a Gardenia Guardian and actually scored a basket. Jake watched as the little Guardian burst into tears, ran off the court, and beelined to Ryan. Ryan bent down, gave her a big hug, then talked to her and sent her back into the game.
Pam let out a sympathetic moan. “Aw, that’s Talisa, the poor kid. She feels terrible.”
“Yes, but look at our son,” Jake said, with a quiet satisfaction. He fast-forwarded into the future, to the time when Ryan became a father to his own child. Jake could see how loving Ryan would be, and how kind. They had both wanted to meet with Kathleen’s parents to apologize, but the Lindstroms had declined the meeting, and it had been Ryan’s idea to plant a weeping willow in their backyard, as their private memorial to Kathleen. Suddenly Jake’s heart lifted, easing a burden that he hadn’t realized he was carrying until this very moment. He had made so many mistakes as a father, but in the end, he’d done one thing right. He’d been a better father than his own, and Ryan would be the best father of all.
“Jake.” Pam leaned over, excited. “Look!”
“I’m watching, I’m watching.” Jake came out of his reverie.
“Not at the game, at the stands.” Pam pointed across the court. “Look over there. Do you see what I see? Third row up, in the pink ball cap, with the white tank top. Isn’t that Sabrina?”
“Yes.” Jake nodded, matter-of-factly.
“What’s she doing here? Is something going on between her and Ryan?”
“Well, he was worried she friend-zoned him, but he’s taking her out tonight. It’s their first date but she texts him constantly from Friends Central camp, where she’s a counselor-in-training. She writes funny texts and he likes that—”
“Wait. How do you know all this?” Pam looked at him, wide-eyed.
“I’m baller, honey. I’m baller G.”
“What?” Pam burst into laughter, and Jake wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead and catching a scent of her gardenia perfume. His wife was the most wonderful woman he had ever known, and he felt so grateful to be her Husband Material.
Just my luck.
Acknowledgments
I usually love to write my acknowledgments, but not this time, because we at St. Martin’s Press have just lost our beloved publisher and friend Matthew Shear to cancer. This novel is dedicated to him, because I loved him and owe him so much, in so many ways. Permit me to tell you about him, because he was someone who loved books.
Matthew was simply a warm and wonderful man, with a big heart and an even bigger grin. He was a hugger. If you sat next to him at dinner, you knew you were going to have the best time of anyone at the table. He was honest and real and fun. He had great judgment. He loved life. He was witty, but no snob. He was the smartest guy in the room, but not a show-off. He could talk about books all day long, but he talked more about his wife of thirty-some years, Sabrina, and his two daughters, Hayley and Lindsey. As much as he loved to talk, he was a great listener. He listened intently when you spoke, and anyone who knew him can picture his direct, dark-eyed gaze while he listened as easily as they can recall the distinctive sound of his laugh, which was loud and joyful. It wasn’t a musical laugh. Musical is overrated, as far as laughs go.
Matthew was also a brilliant publisher, and if you don’t know what a publisher does, the answer is: everything. In my case, when I first came to St. Martin’s Press, Matthew took me under his wing and told me that the house would take great care of me, and it has. He read each of my manuscripts and called or emailed to tell me what he liked in each one. He looked at my book covers with new eyes and changed them so they would reach a wider audience. He weighed in on any newspaper ad for my books, tweaking the taglines, and he moved my publication dates around to get my books in stores when it was best. He took me out of mass market paperback, where I had been published for twenty-odd years, and put me into trade paperback, which got a book of mine on the bestseller list for sixteen weeks, a sales record for me. The move was a radical change for a suspense author at the time, but now has become common. Most of all, he treated my daughter Francesca and me with respect and affection, and considered our opinions—as if we were his partners, not merely his authors. He helped develop the careers of so many authors like me, all because he loved our books and us.
Matthew Shear was larger-than-life, and so he will survive death. Those of us who knew him will never forget him. And we will always love him. In time, we will go on, because he’d want us to, and in so doing, we honor him. So
I will thank that great group of wonderful people at St. Martin’s, all of whom he loved as his office family, most especially, my incredible editor and dear friend, Jennifer Enderlin, as well as our truly fearless leader, John Sargent, the divine Sally Richardson, and the great crew of Matt Baldacci, Jeanne-Marie Hudson, Brian Heller, Steve Kleckner, Steve Cohen, Jeff Dodes, Jeff Capshew, Nancy Trypuc, Kim Ludlam, John Murphy, John Karle, Rob Grom, Paul Hochman, Stephanie Davis, Caitlin Dareff, and all the wonderful sales reps. Thanks to adorable cover designer, Michael Storrings. Thanks to Mary Beth Roche, Laura Wilson, Esther Bochner, Brant Janeway, and all the great people in audiobooks. I love and appreciate all of you.
Now onto the experts and kind souls who helped me with Keep Quiet. Any and all mistakes herein are mine. I’m a former lawyer, but criminal law wasn’t my field, and my first thanks go to a supersmart and dedicated public servant, Nicholas Casenta, Esq., Chief Deputy District Attorney of the Chester County District Attorney’s Office. Nick has helped me with every book so far, including this one, and I throw hard questions at Nick, at all hours of the day and night, via panicky email. His answers are always spot-on, superbly well-reasoned, and incredibly helpful, and I couldn’t be more grateful to him. Thank you so very much, Nick!
Thanks to Binney Weitlisbach, Betty Tafel, and Holly Palermo, of Haverford Trust, who took the time to answer all my dumb questions about financial planning. Thanks to Chief Gene Dooley and Detective Patricia Logic of the West Whiteland Township Police Department, and Chief John M. Narcise, Lieutenant Robert P. Klinger, Detective Stephen Jones, Officer Andrew J. Wahn, and Nancy Sheehan of the Willistown Township Police Department, who took their valuable time to answer my dumb questions about police procedure. Thanks to Dr. Nicole Kimze, who took her valuable time to answer my dumb questions about medical procedures. Thanks to Michael Skinner, Esq.
Thanks to Doug Young of the Lower Merion School District, and his lovely staff. Doug is an amazing young man, who took his time to explain the techniques and Zen of basketball and basketball recruiting to me, as well as what life is like on a great basketball team in a great school like my alma mater, Lower Merion High School. Doug played on the same team as Kobe Bryant, and they are both rock stars to me. Thanks to Aces Nation, for being so welcoming to me, and congratulations to the championship-winning Aces!
Thanks and love to my wonderful agent and friend Molly Friedrich, who has guided me for so long now, and to the amazing Lucy Carson and Molly Schulman.
Thanks and love to my dedicated and wonderful assistant and best friend Laura Leonard. She’s invaluable in every way and has been for more than twenty years. Thanks, too, to my great assistant and friend Nan Daley, who helped so much with the research on this book and supports me every way she can.
Thank you very much to my family, and to my amazing daughter Francesca, for everything.
But my final thanks, as my first thanks, go to Matthew Shear.
I am eternally grateful.
Also by Lisa Scottoline
Fiction
Accused
Don’t Go
Come Home
Save Me
Think Twice
Look Again
Lady Killer
Daddy’s Girl
Dirty Blonde
Devil’s Corner
Killer Smile
Dead Ringer
Courting Trouble
The Vendetta Defense
Moment of Truth
Mistaken Identity
Rough Justice
Legal Tender
Running from the Law
Final Appeal
Everywhere That Mary Went
Nonfiction (with Francesca Serritella)
Meet Me at Emotional Baggage Claim
Best Friends, Occasional Enemies
My Nest Isn’t Empty, It Just Has More Closet Space
Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog
About the Author
LISA SCOTTOLINE is a New York Times bestselling and Edgar Award–winning author of twenty-one novels. She has 30 million copies of her books in print in the United States, and she has been published in thirty-five countries. She has served as the president of Mystery Writers of America, and her thrillers have been optioned for television and film. She also writes a weekly humor column with her daughter, Francesca Serritella, for The Philadelphia Inquirer, and those critically acclaimed stories have been adapted into a series of memoirs, the first of which is entitled Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog. She lives in the Philadelphia area with an array of disobedient pets.
Visit www.scottoline.com or follow Lisa on Facebook or Twitter at @LisaScottoline.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
KEEP QUIET. Copyright © 2014 by Smart Blonde, LLC. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Michael Storrings
Cover photographs: couple © Moment/Corbis; boy © Photoalto/Odilon Dimier/Getty Images; porch © Michael Rickard/Shutterstock.com; park © Igorsky/Shutterstock.com
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-01009-4 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-4204-5 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781466842045
First Edition: April 2014
“Lisa Scottoline is one of the very best writers at work today.… This is a story that is heavily muscled, emotional, and relevant. They don’t come any better.”
—Michael Connelly
ENJOY LISTENING TO LISA SCOTTOLINE!
Audiobooks available on CD and for digital download Click here to listen to excerpts from the audiobooks.
Follow us:
Visit www.macmillanaudio.com
Lisa Scottoline, Keep Quiet
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends