The Psalmist (33 page)

Authors: James Lilliefors

BOOK: The Psalmist

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But then she began to hear a different voice, this one in her head: The strange intonations of August Trumble on the day they had finally caught up with him. Trumble's voice as disorienting to her as his appearanceâÂa slightly high pitch, sprinkled with odd, lilting words and inflections that seemed to belong to some earlier time in history.

She blinked in the darkness, wide-Âawake, recalling their brief exchange once again. A conversation heard by only two Âpeople.

What time do you have?

Time? Twelve forty-Âseven.

Really? No,
Trumble said.
I don't believe that's right. I daresay it's much later than that.

Then she had turned away and stepped outside the car, deciding not to engage with August Trumble again. Because something about the man wasn't right. Something she couldn't explain and didn't want to think about. The way he had spoken to her felt like a summons, sent from the recesses of some ancient, unrequited yearning, from the subterranean places he dwelled, dreaming his dark dreams of redemption, places Trumble would never really be able to leave despite his efforts to live in the open, to be one of us. Sometimes, your curiosity lets you go through those doorways; sometimes, your instincts tell you to stay on this side, knowing the door may close behind you and never open again.

Trumble wasn't finished, though. He had spoken to her one more time, saying,
I've got one thirty-Âeight or seven.

Those were the words Hunter couldn't get out of her head now. The peculiar, distinct way he pronounced themâÂthe second part,
or seven,
more drawn-Âout than the first, like a recording that had been slowed down.

One thirty-Âeight or seven.

Only now, in the darkness, she heard it differently: Without the
or.

One thirty-Âeight. Seven.

138:7.

“Shit!” She clicked on the nightstand lamp and threw back her bedspread. “Sorry,” she said to Winston, who was now covered to his head. “I have to look this up.”

As Hunter paged through the Book of Psalms, Winston sat and watched her.

And then he purred, for reasons that only Winston understood.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Laura Gross for your support, enthusiasm, and many suggestions along the way.

And to Emily Krump, whose editorial guidance was invaluable and helped to shape several of the characters in this book/series.

I am also grateful to Joseph Gamble, commander of the homicide unit of the Maryland State Police, who answered my many questions about murder investigations and provided the Chesapeake Bay “fog” comparison for cases without an ID or a suspect.

Also by James Lilliefors

The Leviathan Effect

Viral

About the Author

James Lilliefors
is the author of the geopolitical thriller novels
The Levianthan Effect
and
Viral
. A journalist and novelist who grew up near Washington DC, Lilliefors is also the author of three nonfiction books. He writes the Bowers and Hunter series for Witness. For more information go to www.jameslilliefors.com.

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www.AuthorTracker.com
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

THE PSALMIST.
Copyright Â© 2014 by James Lilliefors. All rights reserved under International and Pan-ÂAmerican Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-Âbook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-Âengineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperÂCollins e-Âbooks.

EPub Edition July 2014 ISBN: 9780062349682

Print Edition ISBN: 9780062349699

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