Page 12 of The Chain House

“He’s been known to do that, yes.”

“And with the theories going around that Oliver Crown and that entire world Mallard Malone has created in his books, that it was all started by a cult …”

“I suppose we’ll find out when the final book comes out,” he said. “Although I’ve heard rumors the release date has been moved back. And that Malone hasn’t even given the book to his editor yet.”

“I took the entire series to your dad,” she said matter-of-factly. “I placed the box on his porch, knocked on his door, and ran. I’m sure he knows it was me, though.”

“I saw the books at my dad’s,” he said. “Why’d you do it?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“You don’t still think he’s Mallard Malone, do you?”

“No,” she said. “Just trying to stay connected, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Like I said …”

“You think you knew him from somewhere?”

“Not just that.” She turned sideways, leaned an elbow on the railing and faced him. “I’m good at reading people.”

“Most artists are.”

“I’d like to think I’m an expert at reading reactions, facial expressions. Like right now,” she said, taking another swig of beer. “The confused look on your face tells me you’re wondering where in the hell I’m going with this.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“The day I confronted him after class,” she said, “I could tell right away that he recognized me from somewhere too. He was shocked to see me.”

“How so?”

“Like, even though I was trying to place him from somewhere, he knew exactly who I was. And because of it, I think he couldn’t wait for me to go away. I made him nervous.”

“Doesn’t take much to make him nervous.” Sam glanced at her; she was studying him again. He said, “What?”

“You really don’t know who I am?”

“You’re Jennifer Daley? Unless you were lying earlier.”

She shook her head incredulously and laughed. “What kind of a filmmaker are you?”

Again, he couldn’t tell if she was joking and said nothing.

“How far have you gotten in your documentary?” she asked.

“Mostly covering Sal’s history, the forming of the cult itself,” Sam said. “I was just starting to dive deep into the Hawthorne family when I got the email from the prison, giving me the go-ahead on the interview.”

“Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“What?”

“I mean … you’re a twenty-six-year-old amateur filmmaker, a virtual no-name, and you land an interview every news channel on the planet is trying to score?”

Suddenly defensive, he said, “I made a good pitch.”

They both laughed at that, and Sam said, “Trust me, I’ve been thinking the same thing.”