Readers and critics have been enchanted by Mary McGarry Morris’s unforgettable characters and masterly use of suspense in her four earlier novels, including the bestselling Songs in Ordinary Time . In her latest tour de force, Gordon Loomis returns to a changed world after twenty-five years in prison. His old neighborhood is blighted by drug dealers; his brother is eager to help but is too caught up in his own life; his loyal friend Delores makes him realize that he’s just as afraid of relationships as he is of going back to jail; and his inherent decency draws the attention of a hungry child whose survival threatens the fragile balance that is Gordon’s freedom. Compelling and taut, suspenseful and compassionate, A Hole in the Universe will continue to resonate long after the last page is turned. On the web: http://www.marymcgarrymorris.com Richly atmospheric. bristling with dialogue, so tightened with suspense it threatens to snap Morris is a master. -- The Washington Post Few contemporary American writers can absorb readers so fully and with such immediacy... [as] the brilliant Mary McGarry Morris. -- Los Angeles Times Mary McGarry Morris is the author of Vanished , which was a finalist for the National Book Award and the PEN/Faulkner Award; A Dangerous Woman , which was chosen by Time as of of the five best novels of 1991; Songs in Ordinary Time , an Oprah's Book Club Selection and national bestseller, and the critically acclaimed Fiona Range and A Hole in the Universe . She lives in Andover, Massachussetts. On the web: http://www.marymcgarrymorris.com CHAPTER 1 “The way to look at it is, that was somebody else, some eighteen-year-old kid with the same name. It wasn’t you.” His brother, Dennis, sat at the foot of the bed, watching him in the mirror.“Who was it, then?” Gordon Loomis squinted through the blur of sweat. The jug-eared face was the same, bland, the deep chin cleft its only discernible feature. He dragged his starched sleeve across his forehead. He still wasn’t used to the heat of a proper room. The closeness of his brother’s voice seemed the only air to breathe.“You know what I mean!” Dennis said. “And besides, people forget. I mean, twenty-five years! That’s like what? A lifetime ago when you think of it. Nobody’s the same person they were then, just like you’re not.”“But I am. I’m still the same,” Gordon said. His thick fingers struggled with the tiny collar button. Three hundred and fifty pounds, six and a half feet tall. Just as big then—“Loomer,” because he took up so much space. Because of the way he leaned so close to hear. Because he never knew quite what to do with himself or where he belonged.“No, you’re not! For one thing, you used to be a complete slob, and now look.” Dennis laughed, pointing at Gordon’s hairbrush, the comb placed in the exact center row of bristles. “What do you call this? Obsessive-compulsive? Anal retentive?” He meant the rows of coins stacked heads up, the sleek black flashlight, and still in its box the blue tie Dennis had bought for him to wear today. Gordon had laid it all out last night. Some things he could control. Most he could not, like this job interview.He took deep breaths to block out the nasally thrum of Dennis’s voice. “I don’t get it. Lisa and I had you all set up in Mom and Dad’s room. So why’d you go and move your stuff in here? It’s the smallest room in the house.”“It’s my bedroom,” Gordon grunted, chin raised and straining, the button almost fastened. “Was your bedroom. Was—twenty-five years ago. But life moves on, Gordon! Right? It does, doesn’t it?” His brother’s pained smile rose like a welt on his lean, boyish face.Gordon knew better than to answer. His younger brother was as thin-skinned and mercurial as he was generous. It couldn’t have been easy all these years with his greatest desire, Gordon’s freedom, so fraught with expectations of disaster. In the week that Gordon had been home, Dennis had criticized his every decision. His brother’s confidence in him was strongest with visitors’ Plexiglas between them.“It’s so damn dark back here.” Dennis looked out the window into the leaf-tented patch of shade, the old tree’s crown grown bigger than the yard. Now Gordon would hear how he should have gone to California: he’d have a fresh start there, complete anonymity.“Damn!” he muttered, and Dennis started toward him just as the button went through.“You’re so nervous!” Dennis handed him the tie. “It’s just an interview. What’s there to be nervous about?”Gordon turned his damp collar over the tie. The interview was too soon. He wasn’t ready. Freedom was like this new suit Dennis had bought for him. It might look a perfect fit, but it felt as if it belonged to someone else. Gordon tried to knot the tie, then yanked it apart. “I never could do this!” He threw it down on the bureau.“C’mon, big guy,” Dennis coaxed, slipping it back around Gordon’s neck. “Hey! After all you’ve been through, this’ll be a piece of cake! You’ll do fine!