The Night Visitor Read Online Free PDF Page A

first wife, Abigail Barrett.”
    “That’s right. Boo Barrett. She’s dead, isn’t she?”
    “Ages ago, of cancer. I love following the Tates. It’s like watching the British royals.”

    Junior, listen to them. Talking like this stuff matters. Like nothing bad will ever happen to that family of rich jerks. Like they’re blessed. This is her world. See her true colors?
    Danny smoothed the front of his jacket, touching the gun stuck inside his waistband. It felt good. Hard and real.
    Tonight, in front of all her beautiful people, she’s going to say, “I’m Rory Langtry and I’m a murderer.” And I’ll be judge, jury, and executioner. Finally, my brother, you can die in peace. I’ll see you on the other side, ’cause I know there’s no way I’m getting out of here alive.
    There was a crush of people outside the villa’s gates. Media had gathered and were taking photos and interviewing celebrities. Dark-suited security guards oversaw the scene but were primarily concerned with keeping the paparazzi in line. Danny tagged along behind a group of younger people, smiling and laughing with them.
    Guests checked in at a row of tables staffed by women and men dressed according to the ball’s theme. A photographer shot pictures of all the guests and logged names on a small audio recorder.
    The villa’s apple-green front lawn was bordered by tall poplars. Mounds of pastel impatiens were set against foxgloves blooming with spires of bell-shaped white blossoms. Fountains in a reflecting pool rippled the water over sapphire-blue tiles. A red carpet had been unrolled along the driveway all the way up to the villa.
    Danny picked up his table number. The photographer took his picture, held up the audio recorder, and asked his name. Danny brushed past him and proceeded up the red carpet with a jaunty stride. A gentle breeze tickled the fine hairs on his face. He was far from the party in the upper garden, but he heard music, talking, and laughter. He took in everything, enjoying his abnormally acute senses, feeling privileged to have received this gift, even at the cost of great personal sacrifice.

    This makes it worth it, Junior. Living times two makes it so worth it—everything that’s happened, and everything that’s gonna happen.
    He picked out Rory’s voice from the cacophony even though she wasn’t near. “Welcome to the TOV ball. Thanks for coming. Hello. Nice to see you.”
    Walking toward the villa, Danny tuned in to her voice, shutting out everything else. She couldn’t see him. He was too far away. She wouldn’t recognize him anyway, he figured. But he could see her.
    Too skinny for me, Junior. You always liked the skinny blondes.
    He smiled.
    Keep trying, bro. You’re not even a flicker in her mind.
    He felt a hand on his elbow.
    “Excuse me. Can you tell me where I might find the ladies’ room?” The man was asking for his wife, who was standing next to him.
    “What? You think I work here?”
    “Forgive me. I’m terribly sorry.”
    “Pendejo.”
    The couple frowned when Danny uttered the Spanish expletive and hurried away. Danny turned toward Rory to see her walk to the edge of the steps, scanning the crowd, a hand shielding her eyes against the setting sun. He could sense her anxiety, feel it palpitating through the air, like an off-key note in an otherwise perfect concerto.
    “Son of a bitch, Junior.”

    Danny ducked into a flower bed and squeezed between the poplars.
    “You’ve got more juice left than I thought, my brother. I don’t want this to end before it starts. You can’t stop it. I know you don’t think I’m doing the right thing, but you gotta trust me.”

9
    Tom heard ribald laughter and smelled cigar smoke coming from Richard Tate’s office in a corner of the villa. He approached the French doors and, through the glass panes, saw that the room was crowded with men. As soon as he stepped onto the brick porch, someone inside pulled a door open for him.
    Richard Alvin Tate