Page 24 of Shadows Reel

On my way.

Marybeth smoothed her pants with the palms of her hands and strode through the kitchen into the dining room. She checked to make sure the front door was bolted—it was—and the twenty-gauge pump-action shotgun was leaning upright in the corner near the door. Joe had insisted on it, and it was timeslike these when she remembered it was there and she was grateful. No hunter or fisherman had ever showed up and threatened her, but over the years she’d had to deal with inebriated men who wanted to come in and wait for Joe. She wouldn’t let them.

She paused at the door and leaned into the peephole. The lens distorted what she could see.

An older-model Toyota Tundra with dealer plate tags drove up to the front gate and stopped. She couldn’t yet see who was driving or how many men were inside.

Not until the driver’s door opened and the dome light came on. Then Marybeth cried out, threw back the bolt, and stepped outside.

A tall, flinty-looking female swung out of the cab and her cowboy boots dropped to the gravel. She stepped away from the open door and stretched. The light from inside the cab illuminated the side of her angular face and one almond-shaped eye. Her hair was dirty blond, streaked with pink and violet highlights.

“April,” Marybeth said. “I didn’t expect you until much later tonight.”

“I figured I’d just drive straight through from Montana.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“My cell phone died,” April said. “I forgot to bring my charger.”

That was not unusual when it came to April, Marybeth thought but didn’t say. April operated in her own universe and Marybeth knew how much that distressed Joe. One of his daughters driving alone at night without a working cell phonewould make him crazy. But this was April, after all. She could be a tough customer.

“Well, come on in,” Marybeth said, stepping aside. “Do you need any help with your things?”

“Nope,” April said, reaching into the bed of her pickup for a duffel bag. “This is all I’ve got. Except for my new dog. Can I let him come in?”

“You got a dog?”

“I got a dog.”

That’s when Marybeth saw the massive head of a jowly bull mastiff rise from the front seat and almost fill the passenger side of the windshield. Twin ropes of drool strung down from the sides of its mouth.

“Goodness, April.”

“He’s a sweetie. His name is LeDoux. You know, like Chris LeDoux.”

April called him out and LeDoux lumbered across the seat and dropped heavily to the ground beside her.

“I got a new truck, too,” she said. “I mean, an old truck that’s new to me. Pretty sweet, huh?”

“It is.”

“Do you know there’s a cow moose blocking your road? I thought she wasn’t going to let me get by.”

“She does that every night,” Marybeth said. “Especially to your dad.”

“It’s weird coming home to a place I never lived before.”

“Come into the light,” Marybeth said. “Let me see you.”

“I haven’t changed.”

But she had.

Marybeth quickly texted the news to Joe, who replied:

Don’t let her drink all of my beer.

After April claimed the larger of the two guest rooms and justified it by saying she “got there first,” Marybeth offered her a glass of wine if she’d help her in the kitchen.