Killer Weekend Read Free

using, for Christ sakes." He winked: a mannerism Walt found intentionally offensive.
       They stood half in the house. A man with bad acne scars approached from the open kitchen. He was dressed like a preppie, wearing a white shirt, no tie, a blue blazer, blue jeans, and loafers. He offered his hand to Walt while still too far away for them to shake.
       "Adam Dryer," he said.
       "At last," Walt said. The man tried a little too hard with the handshake.
       "You guys have not met?" an astonished Patrick Cutter asked.
       "Not face-to-face," Dryer said, still shaking Walt's hand. "But if e-mail were any judge, we're practically married."
       "Mr. Cutter mentioned a credible threat," Walt said, getting free of the man's eager hand.
       "Did he?" Dryer asked, looking at Cutter disappointedly. "Have you met the AG?" Dryer stepped out of Walt's line of sight.
       Elizabeth Shaler was on the phone in the kitchen. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Walt, and she waved enthusiastically, then pointed to the phone and scrunched up her face into complaint. She wore a sleeveless white shirt with a simple string of pearls. The countertop blocked sight of the rest of her, but she hadn't added a pound. If anything, he thought she looked a little too thin and not a day older than when the two of them had been in this house together under much different circumstances.
       "I guess you have," Dryer said, seeing Shaler's reaction. He sounded almost jealous.
       "It's a small town," Walt said.
       "Or was," Cutter added, trying too hard to be friendly, "until people like me moved in. Right, Sheriff?"
       "Everybody, take a deep breath," Walt said. "Everything's fine. I want to hear about this threat. But first, I think I'm being summoned."
       In fact, Liz Shaler was waving him over to her and pointing down the hallway. She placed the phone down, gave Walt an affectionate hug, and said to Dryer, "I'm going to steal him for a minute."
       As she led him by the hand, Walt felt a pain in his gut just beneath the scar. Liz Shaler sensed this somehow and inquired, "Too familiar?"
       "I'm fine."
       "It's been too long," she said, closing the door of a small study behind him. "Oh my God, how good it is to see you!"
       She devoted her full attention to him. If it was an act, she was profoundly gifted.
       "And you, Mrs. Shaler."
       "Liz. Please. Are you kidding me? It's Walt, not Sheriff. Is that okay?"
       "I prefer it."
       "Really good to see you. So much has happened," she said. "Where to begin?"
       Walt felt she owed him none of this and was about to say so, but her energy silenced him.
       "I appreciated your note," she said. "About Charlie."
       "It was a tragedy. I wasn't even sure you'd see my note. That it would get through to you."
       "It did. You never met him, did you?"
       "No, ma'am."
       "But your note was very kind, as if you had. It meant a great deal to me. And stop it with the ma'am!"
       Walt fought back a smile. He said, "We stay in here too long and Dryer's going to have me vetted."
       "You would have liked him—Charlie. And he, you. He knew all about you—about your saving me."
       "Hardly."
       "Of course you did," she said. "Do you suppose Adam Dryer doesn't know?"
       "I would doubt it."
       "Isn't that strange? And should I tell him?"
       "Your decision entirely," he said.
       "You'd rather I didn't," she said. "I can see it in your eyes. Gosh, it's good to see you. Isn't it strange how something like that connects two people? I feel like . . . Well, I'm gushing. Forgive me."
       "It's an honor to be part of your security detail."
       "Oh . . . please. I loathe the Secret Service. Not the men themselves—they're just doing a job—but being watched and accounted for twenty-four/seven. It's absolutely oppressive."
       "We're going to have a tight net around you this weekend. I hope you're still speaking to me