The Dark Side of the River

by Brendan DuBois

About the Author: Brendan DuBois is the New York Times bestselling author of twenty-four novels, including THE FIRST LADY and THE CORNWALLS ARE GONE (March 2019), co-authored with James Patterson, along with THE SUMMER HOUSE (June 2020), and more than 180 short stories. Brendan’s short fiction has appeared in Playboy, The Saturday Evening Post, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, and numerous anthologies including “The Best American Mystery Stories of the Century”.

Excerpt

I got home that night two hours later than expected, shoulders aching, but it had been for a good cause. My boss at the supermarket had needed more pallets of groceries unloaded and those extra hours of income would be nice when it showed up in my paycheck in two weeks. I had called Mom and she said she could fend for herself for dinner, so for the next one hundred-twenty minutes, I had maneuvered the heavy pallets of plastic shrink-wrapped groceries from the cold interior of a tractor trailer truck, out to the rear storage area of the supermarket. Mindless, repetitive, grunting work, which suited me just fine.

At home I washed up in the kitchen sink, noted the time. If I ate quick and if Mom wasn’t particularly talkative, then I could have a solid hour of studying wrapped up before going to bed and getting up at four a.m. for my other job, delivering copies of the state-wide newspaper, the Union Leader, to a hundred or so sleeping customers in this part of the state. After wiping my hands on a length of paper towel—the store brand, which I bought not out of any loyalty to the store, but because it’s twenty-two cents cheaper per roll—I went out to check on Mom. She was stretched out in a reclining chair, a knitted afghan spread out over her, her eyes closed, gently snoring, glasses sliding down her nose. I took a breath, my fingers tingling. One of my other jobs, as well. Taking care of Mom. Not the kind of job I had imagined four or so years ago, but one that was dumped in my lap and one I was doing the best I could.

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