Page 113 of This is Why We Lied

“Yes, sorry. Frank Johnson. I’m married to Monica. We’re friends with Will and Sara.”

Faith doubted that. “Have you seen Will?”

“Not for a while, but could you tell him that Monica finally turned a corner?”

Faith’s cop brain woke up. “What was wrong with her?”

“She had a little too much to drink last night. She’s better now, but it was rough there for a while.” His laugh was sharp. He was clearly relieved. “She finally managed to keep down some ginger ale. I think she was dehydrated. But it would still be good if Sara had time to look at her, right? Better safe than sorry. Do you think she’d mind?”

“I know she wouldn’t. She’ll be here soon.” Faith had to get away from this chatterbox. “Did Will go into the family’s house?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. I didn’t see where he went. I can help you look if—”

“It’s probably best for you to stay with your wife.”

“Yes, right. Maybe I could—”

“Thank you.”

Faith turned toward the main house to make it clear the conversation was over. She could hear Frank’s plodding footsteps as he headed back the way he’d come. The eerie feeling returned as Faith walked across the open space. The area was quaint with the flowers and benches and pavers, but also someone had violently died here, so Faith was a little nervous that no one was around.

Where was Will? For that matter, where was Kevin Rayman? The agent was in charge of the North Georgia field office while his boss attended a conference. Faith told herself that Kevin wasn’t some rookie off the street. He knew how to handle himself. So did Will. Even with one hand. So why had Faith broken out into a cold sweat?

This place was getting to her. It felt like that Shirley Jackson story right before the lottery numbers were called. She made herself take a deep breath and slowly let it go. Will and Kevin were probably at the dining hall. It was always better to isolate people when you interrogated them. Knowing Will, he had already found Mercy’s killer.

A brown tabby blocked her way up the porch stairs. He was twisted on his back, front and rear paws going in opposite directions, as a ray of sunshine hit his belly. Faith leaned down to give him some pets. She instantly felt her stress level drop a few notches. She silently made a list of things she needed to do. At the top was locating a map. Faith had to figure out where Mercy’s screams had come from and develop a more solid timeline. Then, she needed to figure out the best possible route that Mercy had taken down to the bachelor cottages. Maybe Faith would get lucky and find the broken knife handle on her way.

The front door opened. An older woman with long, stringy gray hair came out onto the porch. She was petite, almost doll-like. Faith guessed this was Mercy’s mother.

Bitty stared down at her from the top of the stairs. “Are you a police officer?”

“Special Agent Faith Mitchell.” Faith tried to establish a rapport. “I was just consulting with Hercult Purrot here.”

“We don’t name the cats. They’re here for rodent control.”

Faith tried not to wince. The woman’s voice was high-pitched like a little girl’s. “Is my partner inside? Will Trent?”

“I don’t know where he is. I can tell you I don’t appreciate him and his wife checking in under false pretenses.”

Faith wasn’t going to get into that. “I’m very sorry about your daughter, Mrs. McAlpine. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Yes, I do,” the woman snapped. “When can I talk to Dave?”

Faith would consider Bitty’s priorities later. For now, she needed to tread carefully. She didn’t know if communications had been re-established to the lodge. Penny had promised to keep Dave’s release a secret, but then again, she’d freely rattled a lot of skeletons in the McAlpine closet.

Faith told Bitty, “Dave’s still in the hospital. You can call his room if you like.”

“The phones are out. Internet, too.” Bitty’s hands went to her tiny hips. “I will never believe Dave had anything to do with this. That boy has his demons, but he wouldn’t hurt Mercy. Not like that.”

Faith asked, “Who else would have a motive?”

“Motive?” She sounded appalled. “I don’t even know what that means. We’re a family business. Our guests are educated, wealthy people. No one has a motive. Someone could’ve easily come up from town. Have you thought about that?”

Faith had thought about that, but it seemed very unlikely. Mercy seldom went into town. She had told Sara that her enemies were all up here. Plus, she had died on the property.

Still, Faith asked, “Who in town would want to murder her?”

“She’s pissed off so many people, there’s no telling who. We’ve had a lot of strangers coming into town lately, I can tell you that. Most of ’em have criminal records back in Mexico or Guatemala. Any one of them’s probably a crazy ax murderer.”