Page 37

Colly squinted into the sunrise. The empty highway stretched before her, dark and straight, while high above it, red-tailed hawks wheeled against a windy sky. Already the vultures roosting on fenceposts had begun to unfurl their dusky wings, warming them in the swelling light.

A glance in the rearview mirror showed Satchel napping against the car door. Even in sleep, he clutched the ant farm, protective of its delicate lacework of tunnels and nests. He had cried when she’d woken him in the predawn darkness. Couldn’t they stay just one more day? Just till lunchtime? But Colly held firm. She had said her goodbyes. She couldn’t bear the thought of running into anyone she knew and having to say them again.

Iris had held a farewell cookout the evening before. Practically everyone was invited: Avery, Niall Shaw, Earla Cobb, Jimmy Meggs—and, of course, Talford Maybrey. It felt strange to be there without Lowell or Brenda. Despite everything, Colly knew she would miss having a sister-in-law as an ally against Iris’s frigid courtesy. Last night, however, Iris had been warm and gracious.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she’d said when the two of them were alone in the kitchen. “Willis can finally rest in peace.” She laid a hand on Colly’s arm. “I hope you’ll come back soon. Satchel needs family. Besides,” she added with a melancholy smile, “you’re the only daughter I have left.” Then, Iris hugged her—not her usual stiff clinch but a long, affectionate embrace that Colly returned clumsily.

Back outside, she’d looked around. Niall stood chatting with Avery and Earla. Colly wandered to the grill, where Russ, in a denim apron, was cooking hot dogs for the kids. A platter of raw steaks waited on the table nearby.

“Need any help?” Colly asked.

“Propane’s nearly out. Come with me to grab another canister? There’s something I need to say.”

Apprehensive but curious, she followed him around the house and down the footpath to the barn, waiting in the breezeway while he ducked into a storeroom and emerged with a fresh propane tank.

He set it down and dusted his hands. “I’m quitting the force.”

“Seriously?”

“You were right—I shouldn’t be a cop anymore.”

“What will you do?”

“Momma’s asked me to supervise the turbine plant. Who knows? Maybe I’ll develop a knack for it. At least I won’t rob her blind.” He grinned, looking so much like Randy that Colly was taken aback, though the experience was less gut-wrenching than it had been.

Russ’s expression sobered. “I know I disappointed you on this case. I disappointed myself.” He swallowed noisily. “I care about you, Colly. More than care. I have for a long time—since before Randy died, if I’m honest. Maybe it’s a mistake to tell you. I would’ve taken it to my grave if Randy hadn’t—” Russ exhaled. “A few times since you got here, I’ve thought you might feel something, too.” He was watching her closely. Hopefully. Finally, he looked away. “Did I misread the signals?”

“I don’t know,” Colly said slowly. “I probably sent mixed signals. But things are clearer now.”

“Clearer?”

She sighed. “I loved—I love Randy. You look so damn much like him that I can’t help feeling something. But if we got together, I don’t think I could separate the two of you in my head. Randy’s ghost would always be there.”

Russ was quiet for a moment. “I get it. Don’t worry, I won’t make a nuisance of myself.” His face was impassive, but his throat worked. “We’re still friends?”

In answer, she kissed him quickly on the cheek and slipped her arm through his. They walked back to the patio in silence. Russ seemed depressed. But the party was lively, and to Colly’s relief he soon grew more cheerful. While he grilled the steaks, she helped Iris fix the younger children’s plates. Niall and Talford were sipping cocktails and chatting near the waterfall at the deep end of the pool. She resisted joining them. Instead, she sat down on a deckchair beside Avery.

“I want to thank you for spending so much time with Satchel while I was laid up,” Colly said. “And for all your help on the case.”

“Can’t believe it’s over. Everyone got it wrong, and you solved it in less than a week.”

“I couldn’t have done it alone.”

Avery reddened but looked pleased.

Colly lowered her voice. “About what you told me the other night—”

Avery’s shoulders tensed. She started to speak, but stopped herself.

“I’m not going to report you, in case you were wondering.”

“Why not?”

Colly sighed. “I know what it’s like to make a mistake and have someone die because of it. You were eight years old.”

Avery chewed her lip. “Legally—”

“The law’s not a precision instrument. Human decency’s got to be considered, too. Besides,” Colly added, “you’ve lost enough.”

Avery looked away. “I still miss them both, you know. Mom and Adam. It’s been twenty years, but still... And the weird thing is, I can’t remember them—not really. I’m not even sure what I’m missing anymore. They’re just an idea I’ve built in my head.” She wiped her cheek with the cuff of her sleeve. “How can you miss something you can’t remember?”

“I know what you mean,” Colly said quietly. Only two years had passed since she’d lost Randy and Victoria, yet already they’d begun to seem remote, somehow—a handful of memories fading like old photographs in a family album. What would Satchel remember of them when he was Avery’s age?

With an effort, she pushed the dismal thought aside. Iris was calling everyone to the table. Colly stood and laid her hand on Avery’s shoulder. “Listen, I don’t know what your long-term plans are, but you’ve got the makings of a good detective. I have lots of friends in the Houston PD. I’ll put in a recommendation for you whenever you want.”

Dinner was served on the patio. By the time they finished eating, the shadows were lengthening across the flagstones. The children went inside to eat ice cream and watch a movie, and the adults settled into lounge chairs by the pool with cups of coffee and thick slices of strawberry shortcake. Colly slipped quietly away from the group and headed down the footpath through the crape myrtle thicket. As she emerged into the open, she heard a voice from behind, calling her name.

Niall was striding quickly after her.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

Colly hesitated. “It’s nearly dark. There’s something I have to do before I go home.”

“Want company?”

Colly wavered. It was her final unfinished business, something she’d imagined doing alone. But she found herself nodding. Niall walked beside her in comfortable silence. They passed the tennis courts and started down the long, shallow slope beyond. Halfway to the bottom, Colly veered from the path, cutting across the winter-brown turf towards the ancient oak that stood on the hillside, spreading its branches over a cluster of white tombstones.

Niall hung back respectfully as Colly picked her way among the graves until she reached a trio of stones that were whiter than the rest. She stood by Willis’s for a few moments, then moved on to Randy’s and Victoria’s. After a little while, she sat down on the grass in front of them and waved for Niall to join her.

“Beautiful spot,” he said quietly, sitting beside her. “What was he like, your husband?”

“Funny, sweet.” Colly smiled. “Stubborn as hell. All the Newlands are.”

“And your daughter?”

“She was just like him. And so talented. Wanted to be a chef.” Colly brushed some bits of dried leaves from the engraved letters of Victoria’s name.

“Is it hard to be here?”

“This is my first time since the funeral. Time heals all wounds, supposedly. But it doesn’t. The pain just becomes your new normal, and you figure out how to live with it.” She paused. “It’s ironic. I came here for closure. I thought I could pay my debt to the Newlands, work off my guilt, and be done with them. But everything’s messier than ever. Satchel loves it here. He’s begging to come back. Iris is already knitting him a stocking for next Christmas. One big happy family at the ranch.”

Niall laughed. “Forget it. You can’t get closure with family—that’s not how it works.”

“Randy warned me they were like a spiderweb.”

“There’s strength in a web, I guess.”

Colly sighed and ran her fingertips over a cluster of olive-green shoots poking through the brown grass, their tiny leaves splayed out like wheel spokes.

“Are those bluebonnets already?” Niall asked.

Colly nodded. Soon the hillside would be draped in a disheveled riot of purple-blue splashed with red and pink clusters of firewheel and evening primrose. “This place is gorgeous in April. But I’m not waiting around to see it.” She scrambled to her feet and dusted off the back of her jeans.

Niall followed suit. “Maybe next year.” He reached out suddenly and, taking her hand, he squeezed it tightly.

“Maybe.” Colly returned the squeeze. Then, after a brief inner tussle, she pulled her hand reluctantly away. Better to keep things simple—for now, at least.

She looked up. A few early stars were shining through the live oak’s dark, smooth leaves. “Time to go back,” she said.

“Grandma!” A shrill voice brought Colly suddenly back to the present. In the rearview mirror, Satchel’s face was flushed with sleep, but his eyes were wide awake.

“What is it, buddy?”

“I miss Maisie.”

“Who?”

“My horse, the black-and-white one. Grandma Iris said she’s mine, but she’ll keep her for me when I’m in Houston.”

“That was nice. Did you say thank you?”

Satchel shot her a reproachful look. “I’m sad we’re leaving.”

“We’ll come back soon.”

“You say that when you hope I’ll forget. But I won’t.”

“Satchel, we’ve been gone less than an hour.”

“Can we visit in July, for my birthday?” He was glaring at her in the mirror, his mouth set in a determined line that reminded her sharply of Victoria at that age.

Three weeks with the Newlands and he’s as pigheaded as the rest , Colly thought, looking back at the road. The sun was higher now. The asphalt shimmered beneath it like a golden ribbon unspooling itself across the plain. She cracked the window and let the cold air rush in, flooding the car with the chalky sagebrush-scent of the scrubland—a bracing odor, clean and sharp.

Colly laughed suddenly. “Fine, Satchel—you win. We’ll come back in July.”