Beyond the Shadow of Night(60)

But where exactly were they being taken? Asher looked around, his eyes falling on a man a few yards away, gnawing away at a potato. Would he have any more idea what was happening?

The man noticed Asher staring at him and stopped gnawing. He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out two more small potatoes, then reached over and handed them to Asher.

Asher thanked the man, but there was no reply: he stared straight ahead again and continued gnawing away.

Then a dot of darkness appeared on Asher’s knee. Then another. He looked up and got a splash in the mouth. It tasted good. Soon the raindrops were bouncing off their heads, and Asher grabbed Rina’s arm, pointing toward a wall at one side of the square. They both stood and hurried over, settling down there with their backs leaning against the wall. Asher took his coat off and held it over both their heads. He handed Rina one of the potatoes, and they both started chewing.

For a second, Asher considered using the rain to clean the mud off his meal, but even a little mud would fill his belly a tiny bit more than the wood-like flesh of the raw potato alone, so he left it on. And the little seed sprouts added variety, as well as providing something to hook his teeth onto.

The rain continued after they’d finished eating, the drops dancing on Asher’s already soaked back. He used his wet sleeve to wipe the blood from the side of Rina’s face, and they huddled together; it was starting to get cold.

“At least we might find out what happened to Mama, Papa, and Keren,” Rina said.

Asher said nothing. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.





Chapter 19

Interview room 3, Allegheny County Jail, Pittsburgh, August 2001

Diane sat down and tried not to smile, tried not to show any signs of friendship. It was a hard habit to break, but the “friend of the family” stuff would have to go. And if it struggled, she would have to put it down.

“You got what you wanted,” she said. “Just the two of us. So tell me what happened.”

He nodded and then waited, drawing a long, wheezy breath before speaking.

“You said you wanted to know everything—everything about me, everything about your father, and the reason for his unfortunate death.”

“The reason why you murdered him, yes. But please, take your time. I really would like to know everything.”

“Very well. There’s a lot to say—more than you might think. But I want you to hear it.”

“Good.”

“He told you we were born within a few days of each other in Ukraine, didn’t he?”

“Yes, and you kind of lost touch with each other some years later. So what happened after that?”

“I’m going to tell you everything, Diane. That includes the childhood we shared, how we came to be brothers in all but blood, how we lost contact, what happened to us both in those years, and how we made contact again, which you probably already know. But I warned you there was a lot to say, and you need to hear everything to really understand the reasons behind what happened between us last week.”

“I’m not sure any of that will help me understand,” Diane said. “I get that you were close as kids and I get that life was tough for you back then. But it was tough for my father too.”

“Oh, I agree. And it didn’t get any better for a long time. We both had hard decisions to make—decisions that followed us around for the rest of our lives. But I want you to know what sort of man your father was.”

Diane peered at him, as though trying to bore holes in his face with her eyes. “Hey, he was my father. I know all about that.”

“But do you? I mean, how well did you really know your father?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Do you think he was a good man?”

She nodded immediately, then stopped, uncertain.

Yes, her father had carried her up to bed every night for a week when she’d sprained her ankle. Yes, he’d once driven her at breakneck speed to school for that ski trip and he used to take her to the swings at the local park. But there was also the way he behaved at those house parties and how he’d sabotaged her love life. In her teens she’d referred to him as General Grump whenever he got bad-tempered and grouchy. By her twenties she’d realized that the word grouchy didn’t quite cut it in this instance, and the General Grump joke had started to wear thin. In hindsight, it should have been clear to her that he was in the habit of spiraling into a pit of self-obsession or insecurity or paranoia, or a mixture of all those things. In reality, she didn’t want to think that way, and he probably wouldn’t have wanted her to think that way either.

Images of his sullen face drifted into her mind. When she had no boyfriend and he had her all to himself, he was almost a model father. Companionship, help around the home, a friendly ear and encouragement when she needed it, someone to hear her laughter when she watched TV—he ticked all those boxes. But whenever she brought a boyfriend home or went on a date, he would turn into General Grump for days afterward. He would grunt instead of speak, never get her a coffee when he was getting one for himself, and make remarks about anything she cooked—usually not even finishing it. She knew this was all down to his fear that she would leave him, a fear he’d made clear to her that day she would never forget, many years ago. In more recent times he seemed to accept Brad more readily—partly because he’d known him since he and Diane were just friends, and partly because after all these years it seemed a given that Diane would never move out of Hartmann Way.