Page 9

Behind me on the kitchen charger, my cell phone springs to life, buzzing with a string of incoming texts. I ignore it, and so does Micah.
“What time was what, when I got up?”
“No. When you went down to get whatever it was you left in the boat.”
“Oh. Sometime just after six thirty, I think. The sky was still dark, but it was beginning to lighten up at the bottom. I yelled for you on the way up the hill, but I’m pretty sure you were already gone.”
He sips his coffee and nods, both as confirmation and as a sign for me to continue.
“Anyway, I didn’t see her until I was climbing out of the boat. She was facedown under the dock, and like I told the operator, she looked like she’s been there a while. I didn’t touch her.”
My cell phone starts up again, the ringtone for my brother, and Micah tips his head in its direction. “You need to get that?”
I shake my head. “It’s just Chet.”
Micah knows Chet, too, and he can probably guess what he’s calling to say. A long-winded account of some self-inflicted disaster, a desperate plea for a loan—and he always calls it a loan even though everybody on the planet knows he’ll never pay me back. Like everyone else in this mountain town, Chet thinks I’ve hit the jackpot.
I step around the counter to my phone, tap the screen to Ignore and flip the side button to Silent. Two seconds later, it lights up again.
I let it clatter back onto the charger just in time for Micah’s next question. “Were y’all home last night?”
“Yes. We got home around five, I think. Maybe a little later. We came by boat, and before you ask, she wasn’t there when we docked. Paul was driving, and he would have seen.”
I think back to how carefully he slid the boat up to the dock, how he leaned over the edge to tie the ropes and hoist me out, and I’m sure of my answer. I didn’t notice anything in the water, but Paul would have. He pays attention to everything.
“Okay, so how about once you were inside? Did either of you hear anything out of the ordinary on the lake? Voices. Splashing, maybe, or the hum of a boat engine?”
“It was cold, and there aren’t that many boats still out on the water, so I definitely would have noticed the sound of an engine.” I pause, trying to remember. “I don’t think so. Did you?”
The question is a valid one. Micah’s house is at the top of the cove, and though it’s tucked behind some trees and sits back farther from the waterline, the back deck offers an uninterrupted view down the length of the lake. If anybody’d been out there on the water, or even smack in front of our dock, he would have seen and heard it, too.
“No. Didn’t see anything, either. No boat lights, or the flickering of a flashlight.”
Again, I shake my head. “But we went upstairs earlier than usual. I don’t know what time, exactly. It was dark, I remember that much.”
Dark falls early behind the pines, but still. Thanks to our champagne celebration, we went to bed soon after supper.
Micah is gearing up for his next question when the front door opens and in runs Paul, covered in sweat and mud. He sees me and skids to a stop, leaving orange and brown smears on the hardwoods. The mud is caked down his entire right side, from his hair all the way down to his shoes like he slid feetfirst down a clay slide, and there’s a cut above his right eye, smack in the middle of a nasty purple lump.
“What happened to you? Are you okay?”
“Are you?” He takes me in with wide, bulging eyes. “I saw the cars outside and I thought...” A tremor makes its way up his spine, and he slumps against a table, leaning on it with a filthy palm.“Jesus.”
Paul’s reaction might seem extreme, if he hadn’t been here before, returning from a run to find a horde of cops fishing a body out of the water. Only the last time it happened, it was summer and the body belonged to his wife. She drowned during an early-morning swim.
“Are you okay?” I say, moving closer. “That cut looks—”
The words dissolve into a squeal when he snatches me to him, jerking me against his body, hard with cold and fear. “You could have warned me, asshole,” he says to Micah over my head. “Those cars out there about gave me a heart attack.”
I press my palm to Paul’s chest, where his heart thumps hard against the skin. His remark may have carried a hint of jest, but his tone didn’t. It came out sharp and angry, but Micah doesn’t take the bait. That’s another great thing about Micah Hunt; he never takes the bait—except maybe with his father.
His voice is calm and matter-of-fact. “I had my father send someone out looking for you, but I’m guessing by your reaction they didn’t have much luck. Take your phone with you next time like a normal person, so people can reach you in case of an emergency.”
Paul’s eyes narrow on the last word. He releases me, sending me a look heavy with meaning.
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” I smile to let him know I understand he’s not just asking about me. He’s asking about the baby, too. I push up on my toes, leaning in for a better look at the cut, dirty and oozing fresh blood down his brow. “Honey, this looks bad. It’s deep, and it needs to be cleaned.”
“It’s nothing. It barely hurts.” He dabs a sleeve to his brow, winces when it comes away red.