The Disappearance of Stephanie Mailer: A gripping new thriller with a killer twist by Joël Dicker (ebook reader play store .txt) 📕

sat there for a while, then, on the way back home, I couldn’t stop myself from dropping by Derek and Darla’s. I don’t know if it was because I needed to see Derek, or because I didn’t want to be alone. And apart from him I had nobody.

It was around eight o’clock when I reached their house. I stood for a while at the door, reluctant to ring the bell. From outside, I could hear cheerful conversation and yelling from the kitchen, where they were having dinner. Every Sunday, Derek and his family had pizza.

I approached the window discreetly and looked in at the meal. Derek’s three children were still in high school. The eldest would be going to college the following year. Suddenly, one of them noticed I was there. They all turned toward the window and stared at me.

Derek came out of the house, still munching, his paper napkin in his hand.

“Jesse, what are you doing out here? Come in and eat with us.”

“No, thanks. I’m not very hungry. Listen, strange things are happening in Orphea.”

“Jesse,” Derek sighed, “don’t tell me you spent your weekend up there!”

I gave him a quick rundown.

“It’s beyond doubt now,” I said. “Stephanie did find out something new about the murders in 1994.”

“That’s just speculation, Jesse.”

“What about the note saying ‘Darkest Night’found in Stephanie’s car, the same as the paper in the empty file? What about the link she made with the theater festival—which started in the summer of 1994, if you remember? Isn’t that concrete enough for you?”

“You see the links you want to see, Jesse! Don’t you realize what it would mean to reopen that case? It’d mean we screwed up.”

“Well, maybe we did! Stephanie said we missed an obvious detail.”

“But where did we go wrong?” Derek said. “Tell me where we went wrong, Jesse! You remember how hard we worked, how conscientious we were. We put together a cast-iron case. I think it’s because you’re leaving the force that you’re brooding on these ugly memories. We can’t turn the clock back, we can’t undo what we did! So why are you doing this to us?”

“Because we have no choice!”

“No, Jesse, we don’t have to do anything! Tomorrow’s your last day as a police officer. Why do you want to stick your nose back in a pile of shit that’s no concern of yours anymore?”

“I’m planning to postpone my departure. I can’t leave the force like this. I can’t live with this on my conscience!”

“Well, I can!”

He made to go back inside, as if trying to put an end to this conver-sation he didn’t want to have.

“Help me, Derek!” I said. “If tomorrow I don’t bring the major solid evidence of the link between Stephanie Mailer and the 1994 investigation, he’ll force me to close the case for good.”

He turned. “Why are you doing this, Jesse?” he said. “Why do you want to dig up all this crap?”

“Team up with me, Derek.”

“Why are you trying to drag me back into this? I haven’t been out in the field in twenty years, Jesse.”

“Because you’re the best I know, Derek. You were always better than me. You should have been captain of our unit, not me.”

“Don’t come here and judge me, Jesse, don’t lecture me about how I should have handled my career. You know perfectly well why I’ve spent the last twenty years behind a desk handling paperwork.”

“I think this is an opportunity for us to put things right, Derek.”

“There’s nothing we can put right, Jesse. You’re welcome to come inside and share our pizza, but I don’t want to talk about that case anymore. It’s over.”

He opened the front door of his house.

“I envy you, Derek,” I said.

He turned again.

“You envy me? What could you possibly envy?”

“The fact that you love and are loved.”

He shook his head wearily. “Jesse, Natasha’s been gone for twenty years. You should have rebuilt your life a long time ago. Sometimes, I get the feeling it’s like you’re waiting for her to come back.”

“Every day, Derek. Every day, I tell myself she’ll be back. Every time I walk through the door of my apartment I hope I’ll find her there.”

He sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry. You should see someone.”

He went back inside, and I walked back to my car. As I was about to drive away, Darla came out of the house and ran toward me. She seemed angry and I knew why. I lowered my window.

“Don’t do this to him, Jesse!” she cried. “Don’t come here and awaken the ghosts of the past.”

“Listen, Darla—”

“No, Jesse, you listen! Derek doesn’t deserve you doing this to him. Leave him alone about that case. Don’t do this to him. You’re not welcome here if it’s just to stir up the past. Do I need to remind you what happened twenty years ago?”

“No, Darla, you don’t need to remind me. Nobody needs to remind me. I remember it every fucking day, Darla, do you hear me? Every fucking morning when I wake up and every night when I go to sleep.”

She gave me a sad look and I saw that she regretted having brought up the subject.

“I’m sorry, Jesse. Come inside and eat, there’s still pizza and I made a tiramisu.”

“No, thanks. I’m going home.”

I drove away.

Back home, I poured myself a drink and took out a folder I hadn’t touched in a long time. Inside were press clippings from 1994, in no particular order. I looked through them for a long time until one of them caught my attention.

POLICE HAIL A HERO

Sergeant Derek Scott was decorated yesterday at a ceremony at the troop headquarters of the State Police for his bravery in saving the life of his partner, Inspector Jesse Rosenberg, while arresting a murderer for the killing of four people in the Hamptons during the summer.

The doorbell dragged me from my thoughts. I looked at my watch. Who could it be this late? I picked up my pistol, which I had put