boots and hu ng his coat up in the mudroom, Allie was already slipping the egg onto a sl ice of toast.
She placed her hand on the back of his neck as he settled heavily at the kitc hen table, rubbing his face with his hands. "Tired?" she asked. Cam made an indistinguishable noise in the back of his throat. He picked up h is fork just as Allie laid the steaming plate in front of him. His mouth wate red at the sight of the hot food, but he carefully set the fork on the edge o f the plate and turned back to Allie.
She was at the sink, scraping the frying pan. She had a thing about letting food sit in a frying pan, and was obsessive about scrubbing it clean the sec ond it came off the stove. Her shoulders were tense with effort, but she was humming.
"Allie," he said, but she didn't hear him over the running water. "Allie!" She turned around quickly, pressing up against the basin of the sink as if he'
d scared the hell out of her instead of just raising his voice. "What's the ma tter with your egg?"
49
"Nothing." Cam took a deep breath. "Allie," he said, "do you think he was ri ght?"
Allie slid into the chair across from her husband. There was no question i n her mind what he was asking. "Do you?"
Cam stared at her so forcefully Allie could feel his gaze. She covered her chest with her palms, picturing in a quick flash Cam's mouth drawing deep a t her breast the night before. "I don't know," he admitted. "But my hands a re tied. He killed a woman; we've got the body. He's got scratches on his f ace and Hugo found skin cells that match up under Maggie MacDonald's finger nails." He paused a moment, cocking his head. "If I was dying of cancer and in god-awful pain and I asked you to kill me, would you do it?" Allie didn't hesitate. "Yes. But then I'd kill myself, too." Cam's mouth fell open. "Because you'd murdered me?"
"No," Allie said. "Because you'd be dead." 71 If'vA. put her toothbrush down at the edge of the sink and stared L VJ. a t the medicine cabinet one more time. She'd done it before at other people's houses--peeked inside--but this was a little different. This wasn't simple curiosity, but a burning desire to put together the pieces. And it seemed pa tently wrong to invade the privacy of a woman who had gone out of her way to give her employment and shelter all in one day.
Mia opened the mirrored door, watching her own image lengthen and swerve a nd then fall away to a neat array of glass shelves.
Tylenol, and iodine, and syrup of ipecac. Gauze pads and Band-Aids and La ura Ashley perfume. Ban deodorant, Brut aftershave. Kaopectate. The only prescription medicine she recognized was a form of penicillin. Well, that, and the birth control pills. She had used the same kind at one point. Mia took out the shell-shaped box and ran her finger over the lid. She flipp ed open the pills and counted the number missing.
It occurred to her that if she pushed a couple of pills out with her thumb and washed them down the drain, she could quite possibly change the life of Cameron and Allie MacDonald. She quickly snapped the lid shut and put it b ack in the medicine cabinet, shaking with this sense of power. Jodi Picoult
As Cam put down his empty glass, Allie refilled it. "It's Murder One," he sa id, as if he could not believe it himself. "He knew he was going to do it; h e drove to a specific goddamned town to do it; and he voluntarily admitted t o killing her." He shook his head. "I don't know what Jamie thought I could do for him," he said. "I've got to assume it was a premeditated killing."
"A lot of people aren't going to see it that way." Cam stood up and wrapped his arms around her. She fit just under his chin. " Too bad you're only the wife of a clan chief. You'd make the perfect politic al mate."
"Cam," Allie said slowly, as if a thought had just occurred to her, "I made f uneral decorations. Cemetery baskets and things like that. Well, actually, Mi a did."
Cam nodded. "You're the town florist. No one's going to
She placed her hand on the back of his neck as he settled heavily at the kitc hen table, rubbing his face with his hands. "Tired?" she asked. Cam made an indistinguishable noise in the back of his throat. He picked up h is fork just as Allie laid the steaming plate in front of him. His mouth wate red at the sight of the hot food, but he carefully set the fork on the edge o f the plate and turned back to Allie.
She was at the sink, scraping the frying pan. She had a thing about letting food sit in a frying pan, and was obsessive about scrubbing it clean the sec ond it came off the stove. Her shoulders were tense with effort, but she was humming.
"Allie," he said, but she didn't hear him over the running water. "Allie!" She turned around quickly, pressing up against the basin of the sink as if he'
d scared the hell out of her instead of just raising his voice. "What's the ma tter with your egg?"
49
"Nothing." Cam took a deep breath. "Allie," he said, "do you think he was ri ght?"
Allie slid into the chair across from her husband. There was no question i n her mind what he was asking. "Do you?"
Cam stared at her so forcefully Allie could feel his gaze. She covered her chest with her palms, picturing in a quick flash Cam's mouth drawing deep a t her breast the night before. "I don't know," he admitted. "But my hands a re tied. He killed a woman; we've got the body. He's got scratches on his f ace and Hugo found skin cells that match up under Maggie MacDonald's finger nails." He paused a moment, cocking his head. "If I was dying of cancer and in god-awful pain and I asked you to kill me, would you do it?" Allie didn't hesitate. "Yes. But then I'd kill myself, too." Cam's mouth fell open. "Because you'd murdered me?"
"No," Allie said. "Because you'd be dead." 71 If'vA. put her toothbrush down at the edge of the sink and stared L VJ. a t the medicine cabinet one more time. She'd done it before at other people's houses--peeked inside--but this was a little different. This wasn't simple curiosity, but a burning desire to put together the pieces. And it seemed pa tently wrong to invade the privacy of a woman who had gone out of her way to give her employment and shelter all in one day.
Mia opened the mirrored door, watching her own image lengthen and swerve a nd then fall away to a neat array of glass shelves.
Tylenol, and iodine, and syrup of ipecac. Gauze pads and Band-Aids and La ura Ashley perfume. Ban deodorant, Brut aftershave. Kaopectate. The only prescription medicine she recognized was a form of penicillin. Well, that, and the birth control pills. She had used the same kind at one point. Mia took out the shell-shaped box and ran her finger over the lid. She flipp ed open the pills and counted the number missing.
It occurred to her that if she pushed a couple of pills out with her thumb and washed them down the drain, she could quite possibly change the life of Cameron and Allie MacDonald. She quickly snapped the lid shut and put it b ack in the medicine cabinet, shaking with this sense of power. Jodi Picoult
As Cam put down his empty glass, Allie refilled it. "It's Murder One," he sa id, as if he could not believe it himself. "He knew he was going to do it; h e drove to a specific goddamned town to do it; and he voluntarily admitted t o killing her." He shook his head. "I don't know what Jamie thought I could do for him," he said. "I've got to assume it was a premeditated killing."
"A lot of people aren't going to see it that way." Cam stood up and wrapped his arms around her. She fit just under his chin. " Too bad you're only the wife of a clan chief. You'd make the perfect politic al mate."
"Cam," Allie said slowly, as if a thought had just occurred to her, "I made f uneral decorations. Cemetery baskets and things like that. Well, actually, Mi a did."
Cam nodded. "You're the town florist. No one's going to
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