Page 84 of The Catcher
“In control.”
“That’s right. You must think two steps ahead of youradversary. You must consider the consequences. Make a rash move, and it could be your downfall.”
“Is that self-talk, or are you just projecting?” she said.
He laughed. “Do you know what your problem is?”
“I’m sure you are all too willing to tell me.”
“Your emotions rule you. Just like your mother. And you saw how that turned out for her.” He stared right into her eyes. “One day, you will understand when I hand over the reins of this company to you. Don’t make me reconsider,” he said, turning away from her. “So, you will continue to be my eyes and ears. And Natalie,” Luther said, skirting around his desk. “Do away with the ripped jeans. You’re an Ashford. Dress like one!”
After Natalie was gone,Luther exited the study, opening large French doors that led to a patio balcony. Seated nearby, waiting at a round table, still sipping coffee, was Hugh Sutherland. Luther glanced at the money laundering case files from the State Police emptied into the stainless-steel Solo Stove.
“Are these all of them?” Luther asked.
“From his home. Yes.”
“You make it sound like there could be more.”
“I never worked for State.”
“Then can you be sure they didn’t make a digital copy?”
Hugh sighed and sipped his drink before setting it on the table. “Based on my conversation with our insider, I’m positive.”
Luther nodded as he took a tin of cigars from his pocket and stuck one between his lips. He also removed a box of matches from his suit pocket. He flipped the lid, which had the Ashford Royale Casino logo, and tore off a match.
“She’s grown attached to your son,” Luther said.
Hugh looked at him. “And that is a problem?”
Luther looked out thoughtfully across High Peaks Lake. “We’ll see,” he said before striking a match and lighting the end of his cigar. He then tossed the match into the stove and watched the flame eat away at the papers, destroying all records of the past investigation.
30
Noah scanned the headline of theAdirondack Daily Enterprise, the words blurring together as his eyes struggled to focus. “Joshua Anderson: What made a school guidance counselor kill?” The familiar pattern played out before him: psychologists offering opinions on the killer’s mental state, media sensationalizing and speculating on overlooked factors, neighbors expressing astonishment, and the self-righteous wagging judgmental fingers.
It was a scene he had witnessed countless times before, the aftermath of a deadly killing spree laid bare for all to see. But behind the headlines and sensationalism lay a truth often overlooked — the pain that had driven Joshua Anderson over the edge. It wasn’t justified, but it was understandable.
After losing a child to suicide after bouts of bullying, picking up the pieces was a painful process. The media rarely covered the actual impact it had on those leftbehind. After all, stories of parents forming foundations and charities to raise awareness about bullying were few and far between — hardly the clickbait material that drove media attention.
In the aftermath of tragedy, for every parent who managed to find a silver lining, others saw only dark clouds. While most never acted upon their despair and anger, occasionally, a mother or father would succumb to their grief. In a final entry within Elizabeth’s journals, her father had laid bare his reasons. He refused to let his daughter be forgotten or to have the actual reasons behind her decision to end her life dismissed as mere mental illness. In his own way, he had ensured her memory endured by combining a passion they both shared — geocaching — with her love forThe Catcher in the Rye,sending a message that resonated far beyond their community. Just as the killer of John Lennon had become infamous for his deadly actions and association with a book, so too would Joshua’s actions not go unnoticed. In the end, four teens were dead; three had survived, with one ironically saved by McKenzie. Nicholas Wilson was back in treatment, and according to McKenzie, who visited the boy daily, he was making progress.
Noah closed the newspaper, the weight of the world bearing down on him as he lay in his hospital bed, his lower legs and hands a canvas of burns.
He glanced out his window toward the mountains.
The fall in the Adirondacks was beautiful, but beneath its scenic veneer lay a darkness that no amount of autumn foliage could conceal, and few would ever know. As hedrifted into thought, Noah couldn’t help but wonder how many more lives would be lost before society woke up to the reality of its cruelty.
Noah glanced over to the partially opened door after hearing a knock. He shifted slightly in his bed, surprised to see Callie, carrying a colorful bouquet of flowers. “Hey, you,” she greeted him with a warm smile.
Callie entered, her long brunette hair cascading down her shoulders in loose waves, framing her delicate features. Her icy blue eyes sparkled with warmth as she greeted him with a smile. She wore a fitted black blazer over a crisp white blouse and tailored black pants that accentuated her slender frame. A silver necklace adorned her neck, adding a touch of elegance to her ensemble.
“Thorne,” he responded, returning a smile.
“I brought you flowers, but I see others beat me to the punch,” Callie remarked, gesturing towards the numerous vases already adorning the room.
“No, that’s all McKenzie. Yeah, when he placed the order over the phone, they couldn’t understand his accent and thought he wanted twelve dozen,” Noah explained with a chuckle.
