Snow Bound

by Blake Crouch

Having dealt with many cops as a defense attorney, he’d come to regard them as authority junkies, an unimaginative and reactionary bunch prone to forming fast, unmovable opinions.

The words hit Will like drops of acid, and it struck him that following a tragedy, grief comes in waves, each bigger than the previous, each carrying a new component of pain.

where only a tinge of light lingered in the sky, lying across the horizon like the last thread of day.

he knew he wasn’t even close to the pain yet. But he could sense it lurking on the outskirts. It would be waiting for him in the morning when he opened his eyes to face this nightmare all over again.

The reality that Devlin would probably die within the next five years was something he looked square in the eye every day.

Devi is not dying alone. You cannot let that happen. She is your purpose. Your heart.

You talk to me now, we might have some wiggle room with the DA.” Will felt the gravitational force of the detective’s eyes trying to coax something out of him. The air buzzed with Swicegood’s desire to hear it, and Will suddenly understood how a person could make a false confession.

But once I’ve got a body, Will, it’s over for you. Life. Or maybe they strap you to the execution table in Florence, put a needle in your arm. I hope you buried her deep, because the coyotes will find her. Sniff out the rot. Dig her up. And someone will stumble across the bones, and that’ll be that. But I don’t need the body. You know why? Because everyone knows she’s dead. And the little secret about juries? About society? They want closure. Wrongs righted. Threads tied up. People like you swept away into prison, out of sight, so they don’t have to think about depravity while they’re tucking their little ones into bed at night. You want to take a chance on a jury? You want to stand there on verdict day, your knees quaking, your life, your daughter’s, in the hands of twelve strangers who might be willing to trade reasonable doubt for closure? You up for that, Will?” Will stood up, trembling with rage. He didn’t know if his wife was alive or dead, and this man was accusing him of her murder. “I didn’t kill my wife, and I don’t know where any of this is coming from. You charging me, Teddy?” “Where’d you bury her?” “Are you charging me?” Swicegood cleared his throat. “I’ll be talking to the DA first thing in the—” “Then I’m done here. Am I free to go?” Swicegood chewed his bottom lip. “For the moment.”

Three A.M. is one of the few comfortable hours in Ajo in the summertime, a cool, fleeting reprieve.

at how quickly, when the wrong stars align, it all comes apart.

They had no idea, but overly salty sweat is a major indicator of cystic fibrosis.

The girl was diagnosed when she was two years old, and every day for the last fourteen years, the man had given his daughter CPT, chest physical therapy. The therapy broke up mucus in her lungs, made it easier for her to breathe, helped to stave off infection.

In 1991, a large contingent of this elite military force deserted and went into business with the drug traffickers. I guess the profit margins were too lucrative. Today, they’re known as the Alphas, a gang of high-paid mercenaries, primarily tasked with protecting loads of cocaine, heroin, and marijuana smuggled into America by the Gulf Cartel. No one knows how many there are, but estimates run from one hundred to two hundred members.