No Safe House Read Online Free Page B

one that makes much sense, but a reason nonetheless.”
    There were beads of sweat on Cynthia’s beer bottle. “Hot one today,” I said. “Wonder if it’s going to be nice this weekend. Maybe we could all do something together.”
    I went to reach for her phone so I could open the weather app, check the forecast, the sort of thing I did at home all the time if my phone wasn’t nearby. But before I could grab it, Cynthia moved the phone to the other arm of the chair, beyond my reach.
    “I heard it’s going to be nice,” she said. “Why don’t we talk on Saturday.”
    Barney went down the other side with the gas mower.
    “He said he hopes we work things out,” I said.
    Cynthia closed her eyes for two seconds and sighed. “I swear, I really haven’t said a thing. But he puts things together, sees you coming over but not staying. Likes to offer advice. Seize the day, that kind of thing.”
    “What’s his story?”
    “I don’t know. Mid-sixties, never married, lives alone. Likes to tell everyone how his leg got busted up in a car accident back inthe seventies, hasn’t walked right since. He’s kind of sad, actually. He’s okay. I listen to him talk, try not to hurt his feelings. I might have a plugged toilet one night and need him to come over.”
    “Does he live here?”
    Cynthia shook her head. “No. There’s a young guy across the hall from me—there’s a hell of a story there I’ll tell you sometime. And on the first floor, there’s Winnifred—swear to God,
Winnifred
—who works for the library, and across the hall from her another sad sack named Orland. Older than Barney, lives alone, hardly anyone ever comes to see him.” She forced a grin. “It’s the House of the Damned, I tell you. They’re all here living alone. They’ve got no one.”
    “You do,” I said.
    Cynthia looked away. “I didn’t mean it that—”
    There was a sudden noise from the house. Someone coming down a flight of stairs, fast.
    The door swung open and a man, late twenties to early thirties, slim, dark hair, stepped out. He spotted Cynthia before noticing me.
    “Hey, good-lookin’,” he said. “What’s shakin’?”
    “Hi, Nate,” Cynthia said, an awkward smile on her face. “I’d like you to meet someone.”
    “Oh, hey,” he said, his eyes landing on me. “Another friend dropping by?”
    “This is Terry. My husband. Terry, this is Nathaniel. My across-the-hall neighbor.” Her eyebrows popped up briefly as she looked at me. This was the guy there was a hell of a story about.
    His face quickly flushed, and it took him maybe a tenth of a second to decide to extend a hand. “Good to meet you. Heard a lot about you.”
    I glanced at Cynthia, but she wasn’t looking at me.
    “Where you off to?” Cynthia asked. “You don’t walk dogs this late in the day, do you? Isn’t everyone home by now?”
    “Just going out for something to eat,” Nathaniel said.
    “You have dogs?” I asked.
    He smiled sheepishly. “Not here, and they’re not mine. That’s what I do. I’ve got a dog-walking business. Go from house to house through the day, take my clients’ mutts out for a stroll while their owners are at work.” He shrugged. “I’ve had a small career change. But I’m sure Cyn—I’m sure your wife has told you all about that.”
    I looked at Cynthia again, expectantly this time.
    “I haven’t,” Cynthia said. “Don’t let us hold you up.”
    “Again, nice to meet you,” he said to me, then trotted down the stairs, got behind the wheel of the Caddy, and took off on North Street.
    “A dog walker with a Cadillac?” I said.
    “Long story. Short version goes like this. Hit it big in the phone app business, market went south for a while, lost it all, had a nervous breakdown, now walks dogs for people every day while he gets his life back together.”
    I nodded. This house seemed to be a place where people came to regroup.
    “Well,” I said.
    Neither of us spoke for the better part of a