Read Light of Day for Free Online

all the questions.
    â€œChrist almighty, Jackie.” The voice seemed to fade before the last word was said. There was a deep gasp and then, “Danny? Dead?” coming sadly, weakly, as though the news alone had sapped what remained of his energy. Jack could hear Grace’s “Oh my God” as the old man asked, “How can he be dead?” the voice cracking now. “I can’t comprehend it. Christ almighty.”
    There was more than disbelief in the voice, more than sadness, more than grief, although that was all there, but it was something else that started deep inside his throat, a mournful, guttural sound, that came with the exhalation of his breath. It was the sound of an old man feeling the death of his only grandson. “My God, Jackie, suicide…My God…” sounding pained and full of sorrow. “Maybe it was an accident.”
    â€œThe detective doesn’t think so.” Jack held on to the phone and said nothing else. He listened to his father sobbing and gasping and sobbing again, and Grace crying and saying muffled, inaudible things. Then the old voice said, “Danny was a very complex kid. Complex and complicated for his age, hell, from the day he was born. Even before Annewalked out.” He paused to clear his throat. “She made a mess of his life, leaving him the way she did.”
    It startled Jack to hear Anne’s name. They never talked about her, at least not when they talked about Danny.
    His father said, “I don’t know—who knows what was going on inside of him. Who can say after this, but a little boy doesn’t get over being abandoned like that. Your mother always said Anne damaged him irrevocably.” When he breathed in it sounded like dry leaves scattering in the wind. “Danny had a tough time. Tougher than we realized.” He struggled with another breath. “Oh God, Jackie, I love that boy so much.” Jack cried with him.
    They cried for Danny, who had found living unbearable, and they cried for each other as well: the father who had outlived his son, the grandfather who had outlived his grandson. This wasn’t a conversation they ever anticipated having. It was Danny who one day would have had to be told his grandfather died, not this, which is what the old man was saying while he cried and lost his breath and started to cough and wheeze and make hacking sounds from deep inside his chest, until there was no sound at all.
    â€œDad?” Jack shouted into the phone.
    His father didn’t answer.
    â€œDad?”
    His father coughed a few times and cleared his throat. He said, “You shouldn’t be alone now, Jackie. I want you to get on a plane and fly out here. You’ll stay with us. We’ll take care of each other.”
    â€œI’ve got to stay here.” Jack wiped his eyes, adjusted the pillow behind his head while Mutt nuzzled the crook of his arm.
    His father said, “This is no time to be by yourself, Jackie. We belong together.”
    â€œI can’t.”
    â€œOf course you can.”
    â€œI’ve got to stay here.”
    â€œWe have to go through this together. You’ll be bouncing off the walls alone in the house.”
    â€œI’d be bouncing off the walls in New York, too. I can’t leave.”
    â€œGet on a plane—”
    â€œListen to me—”
    â€œListen to me . You’ll rattle around, chewing yourself up until you’re raw and out of your mind. I want you here with me. You won’t have to do a thing. My travel agent will book the flight.” He may not have been in the strongest voice today, but the old man could still fight, and there was no placating him; there was no patronizing. But it was also this: his father needed his son.
    But Jack insisted, “I can’t.”
    â€œDon’t be like that, Jackie.”
    â€œI can’t come to New York. Not until I get Danny out of the morgue.”
    â€œI’m