The Cove

didn't kill him, I didn't. Oh, God, you believe me, don't you, Sally? You don't believe I killed your father, do you?"

    There was no hesitation. Sally took her mother in her arms. "I believe you."

    "But there's so much more, Sally," Quinlan said, his voice soft and smooth, the promise of truth in that voice.

    "It's time now to get it all out. I want you to think back now. Look at Noelle and think back to that night."

    Sally drew back, her eyes on her mother. Then, slowly, she turned to Quinlan. "I now have a clear picture of my father, lying right over there, blood all over his chest. I'm sorry, James, but I don't remember anything else."

    "Your mother said you had a gun. You don't remember taking the gun with you, Sally?"

    She started to shake her head, then she stared down at her brown boots.

    Quinlan said, "It was an antique Roth-Steyr pistol your father probably bought off an old English soldier from World War I. It has a ten-round clip, ugly devil, about nine inches long."

    "Yes," Sally said slowly, moving away from him, walking toward the spot on the floor where she'd found her father's body, right in front of his huge mahogany desk. "Yes, I remember that pistol. He was very proud of it. The English ambassador gave it to him back in the 1970's. He'd done him a big favor.

    "Yes, now I can see it clearly. I remember picking it up now, holding it. I remember thinking it was heavy, that it weighed my hand down. I remember that it felt hot, like it had just been used."

    "It is heavy. The sucker weighs a bit more than three pounds. Are you looking at it, Sally?"

    She was standing there, apart from him, apart from all of them, and he knew she was remembering now, fitting those jagged memory pieces together, slowly, but he'd known she could do it.

    "It's hot, Sally," he said. "It's burning your hand. What are you going to do with it?''

    "I remember that I was glad he was dead. He was wicked. He'd hurt Noelle all those years and he'd never paid for it. He'd always done exactly what he'd wanted to do. He'd gotten me. There'd never been any justice, until then.

    "Yes, I can remember that's what I was thinking. 'You're dead, you miserable bastard, and I'm glad. Everyone is free from you now. You're dead.' "

    “Do you remember Noelle coming in? Do you remember her screaming?"

    She was looking down at her hands, flexing her fingers. "The gun is so hot. I don't know what to do with it. I can see you now, Noelle, and yes, there's Scott behind you. But you have your coats on. You weren't here at the house, you'd been out. Just Father is here, no one else.

    "You started screaming, Noelle. Scott, you didn't do a blessed thing. You looked at me like I was some sort of wild dog, like you wanted to put me down."

    "We thought you'd killed him," Scott said. "He wasn't even supposed to be at home that night. He was supposed to be in New York, but he came back unexpectedly. You grabbed that gun and you shot him."

    But Sally was just shaking her head, looking not frightened but thoughtful, her forehead furrowed. "No, I remember that when I got here I tried the front door. I didn't expect it to be unlocked, but it was. Just as I turned the knob, I heard a shot. I ran into this room and there he was, on the floor, his chest covered with blood.

    "I remember-" She paused, frowning ferociously. Then she pressed her knuckles against her forehead. "It's so vague, so fuzzy. Those damned drugs you gave me- God, I could kill you for that."

    Quinlan said, "He's in so much trouble now, Sally, that killing him would be letting him off lightly. I want to see him spend all his money on lawyers. Then I want to see him rot in prison for the rest of his miserable life. Don't worry about him. You can do this. It's all vague, but it's there. What do you see?''

    She was staring down at where his body had sprawled, arms flung out, his right palm up. So much blood. There had been so much blood. Noelle had laid a new carpet. But there'd been something strange, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, something...

    "There was someone else there," she said. "Yes, there was someone else in the room."

    "How did you get the gun?"

    She said without hesitation, "It was on the floor. He was bending down to pick it up when I came into the room. He straightened up real fast and ran to the French doors."

    She turned slowly and looked at the floor-to-ceiling windows that gave onto a patio and yard. There were high bushes and a fence