Second Honeymoon

Chapter 117

AT THE SOUND of the shot, Ken’s cap went flying. Then he got the message and went down on the ground. Then he was crawling away, then running.

As I dove behind the nearest headstone, I felt a hot sting through my calf. Ned had no intention of missing me twice.

“Drop it!” I suddenly heard.

I’d barely scrambled to my knees, ready for a good old-fashioned standoff, when I turned to see Ned and his Browning Hi-Power Mark III pistol. He must have sprinted from his hiding place in order to reach me so fast.

Slowly, I dropped my Glock to the ground. After he gave it a swift kick across the wet grass, Ned turned and smiled.

“Well, if it isn’t John O’Hara,” he said.

I faked a smile in response, spreading my palms. “The one and only.”

That made him chuckle. “Good one,” he said. “Clever.”

“Unfortunately, not as clever as you.”

“Very true,” he said. “Although I give you credit for getting this far.”

The odd thing was, he actually seemed sincere about that. As motivated as he was by revenge, it was as if he still wanted a fair fight. Hence his clues; the way he’d been almost testing Sarah and me.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” I asked.

“I’d be lying if I said I knew for sure. But I guess I knew the same way you did. Math.”

I didn’t follow.

“It’s called a Fibonacci sequence,” he continued. “When the next number in a series is always the sum of the two numbers that precede it. Five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one, thirty-four. In a way, it’s the premise for all deductive reasoning.”

I stared up at Ned, listening to his every word. Take away the gun aimed at my chest and he could’ve been giving a lecture back at UCLA. Where was the anger? The hatred of me? He was calm. Too calm. I couldn’t find an opening.

“It’s really a shame,” I said, shaking my head. “You know, what might have been.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’ll bite,” he said. “What do you mean?”

“I know what happened when you and Nora were children, the whole terrible story. Even how your mother took the blame for you.”

“So?” he asked. It was his first twitch. His quick blink that told me time didn’t heal all wounds.

“So imagine what might have been had your father not been a monster,” I said. “How different your and Nora’s life would’ve been.”

“Don’t forget about your life, too,” he said. “Or what remains of it.” He motioned to the bloody grass beneath my knee. “How’s your leg doing?”

“Don’t worry; I’ll live,” I answered.

He chuckled again. “Another good one,” he said. “I bet you made my sister laugh, too. Before you killed her.”