Page 49

Izzy

I need to talk to someone or I might burst. I can’t carry all these secrets by myself anymore.

I have only one logical choice for a confidante: Taylor.

We bonded over Fiona’s passive-aggressiveness at the start of this vacation; she entrusted me to investigate Lucas (sort of, since she didn’t confide the full story); plus, she’s the only female around who is close to my age.

So Taylor it is.

Before I track her down, I have to take care of the kids. There seems to be no limit on the amount of cereal or the number of cartoons they can consume.

David acts like nothing happened at all. He drinks his orange juice standing as close to me as he did last night; his gold chain glittering before me like a cruel taunt.

“I went for a run this morning, doing my usual non-sanctioned hunt for Fiona, and saw one of the cops on the trail. He told me today is the last day of the search.”

His voice is flat, like he’s describing what he had for breakfast. This guy changes faster than New England weather, which makes him mercurial and dangerous. He’s clearly trying to tell me something with his easygoing attitude and newfound willingness to keep his shirt on indoors.

I get his message loud and clear: if I play along, follow his rules, and don’t make trouble, he’ll let it all go.

And maybe I should oblige. But I keep wondering if I should give my DNA to the po lice so they can match it to the bones.

Was it David’s hand on the shovel that buried my aunt’s body?

If I were a Magic 8 Ball, I’d say, “Signs point to yes.”

As afternoon nears, David settles in to watch Moana with the twins, and I find Nutmeg resting on a patch of shady grass outside with Taylor lounging nearby on a yellow Adirondack chair, writing in her journal.

She’s wearing white shorts and a cozy sweatshirt because the lake air is a little cooler today.

Even though the sun isn’t as strong, I keep sunglasses on to hide the dark circles under my eyes. Sleep was elusive last night.

“Working on a new poem?” I ask.

Taylor nods. “Yeah. I’ve had a lot on my mind. I’m really worried about my dad.”

“I can imagine,” I say. I don’t ask to read what she’s writing. If she wants to share, she’ll offer. Instead, I take the box out of my backpack to show her the repair job. “I have a few hours off,” I say. “I was going to return this to Grace, but I could use some company. Want to come along?”

Taylor studies the clasp. “He did a good job fixing it.”

“He did more than that,” I say. “Let’s walk. There’s a lot to talk about.”

Nutmeg comes with us. We set off at a quick pace down the same path we took to find the Shack.

As soon as I start talking, I can’t stop.

I’m going so fast, I’m breathless. I don’t hold anything back.

I tell her about lying to get this job so I could investigate my missing aunt, finding her picture in the secret compartment of the box that had once belonged to Anna Olsen, how David’s face was blacked out, how Lucas helped me steal David’s passcode, and what I saw on his computer before he threatened me.

Taylor is stunned. She shakes her head as if to clear her mind.

“Izzy, I’m so sorry. If I knew you had a close connection to the lake lore, I never would have taken you to where the bones were found. That must have been horrible for you.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say. “And thanks for caring. Really. I came here to learn more, so you did me a huge favor. But you know who isn’t doing me any favors?

David. He caught me snooping around his office.

Luckily, he bought my bullshit excuse for being up there, but he knows I’ve never done this job before.

And he basically implied that he’s been watching me—that there are hidden cameras in the house. ”

‘Cameras?” Taylor is rightly horrified.

“Yeah, I’m showering in the dark from now on, that’s for sure. Hopefully he doesn’t have one in the office because he’ll know I was lying. But my biggest concern is that I think he’s a killer, and I’m afraid he might actually try to hurt me.”

“That’s insane, Iz. What are you going to do?”

What I do right then is start to cry. Hot tears spill down my face and my shoulders shake.

I’m surprised by the sudden outburst of emotion.

Taylor pulls me in close and hangs on until I regain my composure.

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, and by the time we reach Grace’s little house tucked off the beaten path, I’m fully recovered.

From a distance, I see Grace gardening in her front yard.

As we get closer, I hear her humming a melancholy tune.

I feel sorry for interrupting her solitude, but I’m on a mission.

Nutmeg lets out an excited bark that gets Grace’s attention.

Her kind and wizened face lights up when she sees me approach.

“I brought you this,” I say, handing her the crutch.

Grace leans it against the house and smiles warmly. “Told you that poultice works wonders. And who’s this cutie?”

Nutmeg rises to place her paws on Grace’s denim top, leaving prints on the fabric, but Grace laughs it off as she brushes away the dirt. She scratches the dog behind her ears.

“This is Nutmeg,” I say. “And I brought my friend Taylor. We’re both staying at the lake.”

“Hi, I’m Grace.”

“We’ve actually met before, a couple times, but it’s been a while,” says Taylor, shaking Grace’s hand.

A trickle of sadness seeps into Grace’s tired eyes. “I’m sorry for not remembering,” she says.

“I think I should be apologizing,” I say, slipping my backpack off my shoulder. I undo the zipper, take out the box, and hand it to Grace, unable to meet her puzzled gaze.

“What’s this all about?” she asks, her forehead wrinkled with confusion.

“I accidentally broke the clasp when you let me look at it, so I took it back to fix it. I should have said something to you when it happened, but I was too embarrassed. Anyway, it’s fixed now, and I came to return it.”

“I hope you weren’t that upset about it. This thing is older than I am. I’m sure it’s as fragile as me, too.” Grace punctuates her comparison with a quiet laugh. “Honestly, I didn’t even notice it was gone. That’s my memory again. But I’m glad to have it back. Thank you.”

“There’s more,” I tell her.

When Grace peers into my eyes, an understanding passes between us.

Her recollection might not be what it once was, but I get the feeling that she knew about and still remembers what was inside the secret compartment.

“Come in,” she says, taking me gently by the arm.

“I’ll fix you both some tea and get Nutmeg a bowl of water. ”