Judgment Ridge was less than a mile from the Pattis’ house, just off the main road that connected the neighboring town of Chelsea to Interstate 91. One of the hills was called Judgment Ridge, named for a defunct ski area once located there. Vershire’s name was an amalgam of Vermont and New Hampshire, owing to the abundance of hills offer- JUDGMENT RIDGE 5 ing views from the former to the latter, some fifteen miles away across the Connecticut River. It was successful enough to allow them to purchase their getaway home in the town of Vershire, on the eastern side of Vermont, halfway between Massachusetts and Canada. Patti and his wife, Diane, also forty-seven and a native New Yorker, lived and worked on Long Island, running an agency that provided services for infants and toddlers with special needs. As his only child and namesake approached manhood, Patti wanted Andy to know the embrace of untamed woods, the snap of a fish latching onto a hook, the smell of fresh-cut trees, the ping of a tin can pierced by a well-aimed bullet. Though raised in a cookie-cutter suburb of tract houses and strip malls, as a teenager Patti had grown enchanted by the mountains and forests of Vermont. He was a lifelong New Yorker with the accent and toothpick-chewing habit to prove it. A ndrew Patti was forty-seven, a trim, good-looking man of medium height, with thick, dark hair flecked with gray. They stood for a moment face to face, inches apart, separated by only a pane of glass, each waiting to see what the other would do. Can you help me out?” the stranger answered just as roughly. The weak rays of a bug-yellow porch light cast a sickly glare on his pale skin. His hands were half-clenched like bear claws, his eyes wide and intense. The young man-maybe in his late teens, Patti thought- leaned in close, his hot breath leaving vapor clouds on the glass. He was about six feet tall, lanky, dressed in a white T-shirt, black cargo pants, and black military boots. On his front porch stood a young man Patti had never seen before. With his empty left hand he pushed aside the blind covering the nine small windows on the upper half of the door. Patti walked slowly to the door, holding the Glock out of sight, tucked close against the right rear pocket of his faded jeans. With a quick flip of his thumb, he unsnapped the safety latch and 4 MITCHELL ZUCKOFF AND DICK LEHR slid the matte black gun from its leather holster. As Patti stood, he reached under the untucked hem of his work shirt for the nine-millimeter Glock pistol he always wore on his right hip. Someone must be in trouble or looking for trouble. It was too late for visitors, and the knocks were too sharp, too insistent to come from the hand of a friend. Startled, Patti rose to his feet, silently motioning to Andy to stay put. A staccato burst of pounding on the front door interrupted him in mid-sentence. from an adventure story about a hunter pursuing a wise and elusive buck. Burning logs hissed and popped in the redbrick fireplace as Patti read aloud to Andy Jr. Jailhouse Snitch Something Wicked This Way Comes “Slit Her Throat!” Hope and Hopelessness 285 305 341 357 Epilogue 379 Notes on Sources 391 Selected Bibliography 411 Acknowledgments About the Authors Praise Other Books by Mitchell Zuckoff and Dick Lehr Credits Cover Copyright About the Publisher 415 Part I 1 A Stranger at the Door A t just past ten on a cool summer night, Andrew Patti nestled with his eleven-year-old son on a worn blue sofa in the living room of their Vermont vacation home. Two SOG SEAL 2000 Knives On the Run A Chelsea Embrace Two Graduations 198 152 159 180 227 246 272 Part III 18. Smarter Than Everybody Dead Ends and College Dumpsters You’re Just a German Vasque Boots 129 14. A Stranger at the Door Chelsea An American Dream Why Didn’t You Jump Him? Trescott Road “Susanne? Susanne?” Snow and Blood 3 11 22 37 45 59 83 Part II 8. Family-my sons, Nick and Christian, and all the Lehrs and Rossis who are their grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Mitchell Zuckoff and Dick Lehr Judgment THE TRUE STORY BEHIND THE DARTMOUTH MURDERS Ridge FOR Suzanne -M.Z.
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