Free The Sixth Man by David Baldacci

man, a burly fellow with soft white hair and a tanned face, over a cup of coffee at a gas station within sight of the lodge. He wore a bright red flannel shirt and new jeans.
    “The cops just came in and told everyone to clear out?” asked Michelle.
    The wife nodded. She was slender, wiry, and looked like she could work her larger husband into the ground. “After they gave them the third degree and searched their underwear drawers. Some of our guests have been coming here for decades, too. They had nothing to do with that man dying.”
    “Well, those guests may never come back after this,” said the husband miserably.
    “And the dead man, this Bergin guy, he’d just arrived that day?” prompted Sean.
    “That’s right,” said the husband.
    “But we’d seen him before, of course,” added the woman.
    Sean pounced. “So he’d been up here before?”
    “Twice before,” said the husband.
    “Did you know what for?” asked Michelle.
    “Wasn’t for the hunting or fishing,” answered the wife.
    “He was a lawyer,” opined the husband.
    “Any idea what he was doing up here?” asked Sean.
    The husband studied him. “You folks aren’t from around here.”
    “No, we just came up yesterday. Staying at Martha’s Inn. Mrs. Burke is really nice.”
    Michelle stifled a snort.
    “Yeah, she’s a real nice gal,” said the husband in a way that made his wife purse her lips.
    “I’ve never been around a murder before,” said Michelle. “Pretty eerie. But I love those true crime shows.”
    Sean added, “I wonder why anyone would want to kill a lawyer. He was probably just up here on vacation.”
    The wife started to say something, but then looked at her husband questioningly.
    He said, “He wasn’t here on vacation. He was Edgar Roy’s lawyer.”
    “Edgar Roy?” Sean said blankly.
    “Serial killer they got up at Cutter’s Rock. Waiting to be tried. Local paper did a big story on it when they brought him here. They say he’s nuts. I say he’s just playacting so they won’t send him back to Virginia and execute him.”
    “My God,” said Michelle. “What’d he do?”
    “Murdered a bunch of people and buried them on his farm,” replied the wife, as she shuddered. “He’s not a man. Wild animal, more like it.”
    “And this Bergin fellow was his lawyer?” said Sean. “So he had to go to this Cutter’s Rock place and talk to this guy?”
    “Well, I guess he had to if he was representing him,” said the husband. He looked at his wife. “And the man’s not been convicted yet.”
    “He’s as guilty as sin and everyone knows it,” his wife shot back.
    “Well, anyway, I guess it takes all kinds to make a world. Wouldn’t have figured a fellow like Bergin would be a lawyer for the likes of a person like that.”
    “So you got to know him?” asked Michelle eagerly. She looked at Sean and feigned naïve excitement about such serious business. “I mean this is so creepy, it’s like a TV show or something.”
    The husband nodded. “Yeah, I guess it is. Anyway, the lodgeisn’t a large place. Not many guests even when we’re full up. Bergin would come down for breakfast and such. We were close in age. Natural that we would talk about stuff. Interesting fellow.”
    Sean said, “And he just told you what he was doing up here? Thought he’d keep that confidential, being a lawyer.”
    “Well, not at first and not in so many words. But he asked for directions to Cutter’s Rock one time, and I asked him why he was going up there. And that’s when he told me what he was doing.”
    Michelle said excitedly, “Gosh, maybe he was going up to Cutter’s Rock when he was killed?”
    “No, don’t think so,” said the husband.
    “Because he’d already been there,” said the wife.
    “How do you know that?” asked Sean.
    The husband answered. “He told me he was heading up there right away. When he checked in he was in a hurry. His flight had been late and he needed to get up to Cutter’s