Page 39 of Silent Bones

Sharp. Insistent.

Wrapped in a towel, he padded across the hardwood.

Another knock.

“I know you’re in there. I heard you,” came the voice from outside.

He sighed. “What is it, Dad?” he called, swinging open the door.

“No ‘hi, how are you,’ no offer to come in and have breakfast?” Hugh Sutherland stood on the porch in his usual half-casual button-up and loafers, frowning at the towel. “This generation. No manners.”

“I have to leave. Don’t have time.”

“That’s fine. This won’t take long.” Hugh brushed past him, uninvited, as always.

Noah watched him walk straight to the kitchen and help himself to the coffee already brewed.

“I heard the kids are staying with Kerri or was that Gretchen? I never know what is happening. No one tells me. Why didn’t you call me and ask for help?” Hugh asked.

“We’ve discussed this.”

“Oh yes, your obsession with Luther Ashford,” Hugh said, pouring coffee. “Son, it’s getting old. And I’m not getting younger. That heart attack?—”

“You mean the panic attack?”

Hugh waved it off. “The doctor doesn’t know for certain.”

“Right. What does he know? Just a guy who went to med school.”

Noah moved back into the bedroom and started dressing while Hugh monologued from the kitchen.

“As your father, I have a right to see my grandchildren.”

“And I have a right to the truth,” Noah called back.

“About?”

“Alicia’s death. And, what you know about Lena.”

“Oh, we are not rehashing all of that again, are we?”

“Did you know someone stole a box of evidence from my house while I was at the hospital? State and county case files. The same night someone boxed me in at the hospital parking lot. Now, if you were me, what would you conclude?”

Hugh sipped calmly from his mug. “That someone doesn’t want you digging where you shouldn’t.”

He held out the second mug. Noah didn’t take it.

“So maybe instead of saying it to your face,” Hugh continued, “they figured you were smart enough to take the hint.”

Noah squinted at him. “What are you afraid of, Dad?”

“Afraid?” Hugh walked into the sunroom. “Me? You’re speaking in riddles again.”

Noah followed. “What does Luther Ashford have over your head? Are you doing his dirty work?”

Hugh chuckled. “Ah, Noah. Always searching for monsters where there are none.” He stared out at the lake. The surface was glass. Not a ripple in sight.

“Admit it, you and I never really saw eye to eye,” Noah said quietly.