Bitterroot Lake

Who killed Lucas Erickson?

And was it one of us?

SATURDAY

Twenty-Two Days

31

“Still no luck.” Sarah dropped the rusty needle-nose pliers on the kitchen counter, along with the coil of old phone wire she’d snared from the mill’s tool room on her way out Friday afternoon. “I guess I do need glasses.”

“And no chance the tech guys make house calls on Saturday,” Holly said. She was dressed casually, in leggings and an oversized T-shirt, and purple running shoes with no socks. “You ready to go?”

“Five minutes,” Sarah said, and raced upstairs to change. She’d meant to scrub her once-white shoes before the games, but there wasn’t time. Despite her fears that they’d roused the ghosts of the lodge, she’d slept soundly and woke to clear blue skies and a calm lake. She’d taken her coffee down to the shore, away from the others, to have a little talk with Jeremy—or rather, the part of him that lived in her mind. Then she’d tried unsuccessfully to splice the wires in the phone box.

“You sleeping on the job?” she asked her dead husband. “I could use some help here.”

No reply. Which was probably a good sign, all things considered.

Now they drove toward town, Holly at the wheel so Sarah could text the kids. The balloon she and Vonda had tied to Michael Brown’s cross bobbed lightly above the wild grasses.

They passed power company crews working on downed lines and road department crews slinging branches into a giant chipper.

“It could be years before all this storm damage is cleaned up,” Holly said, pointing at a fallen spruce, its root ball the size of a Volkswagen bug. “So many owners don’t live here. Not that they don’t care, but they’re not eyes-on. And it’s hard to make all the arrangements long-distance.”

“Becca’s real estate agency does property management too. They have more work than they can handle.”

For all that she hated the finagling, Connor, Lucas, and Jeremy had saved Porcupine Ridge, but there were still a few other large holdings in the area. What would happen to them in the long run? And then there were the residential properties. The Hoyt place, with its lake house, two smaller houses, and outbuildings, would be safe in her family’s hands. As Becca had said yesterday, some of these old homesteads would be cherished for what they were, but others were ripe for trophy homes and overdevelopment.

Everyone here is excited to see you! Sarah texted her daughter. We need to make plans! The plan had been that the kids would come here with her to sprinkle some of Jeremy’s ashes on Bitterroot Lake. Now she understood, more than ever, why he’d been so insistent that she bring a bit of him back to Montana.

Dot, dot, dot, her far-off daughter replying.

What? No! I promised I’d start my summer job the week after finals!!!

She pushed CALL. Abby picked up on the first ring. “Hi, honey. We’re heading into town to watch your cousins’ soccer games. What are you up to?”

“Trying to finish my paper for psych. Tonight’s the Meryton ball.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten. Sounds like fun. And your dress is perfect.” Abby had sent her photos from the visit to the costume shop with her roommates, English majors who’d talked her into attending the Jane Austen Club’s annual dance party. Easy to do, with Abby’s love of pretty dresses.

Two weeks until Abby finished her first year of college. So much happening so fast, and no way to slow it down.

“I miss Dad, Mom.”

Twenty-two days. When was it supposed to get easier?

“I know, honey. I do too.” They’d turned off the highway toward Deer Park and the south end of the lake came into view. “I know you’re excited about the job and about getting back to Seattle, but I’m only asking you to come here for a few days. Spend some time with your grandmother and your cousins. We’ve been sorting out the family stuff. Aunt Holly found some great dresses in an old trunk, though you might have to fight her for them.”

“Mom, you’re not staying there, are you?”

Was she?

“A little longer, anyway. When you and your brother get here …”

“Oh, good luck with that. Mom, you have to come home. You can’t stay in that dusty old place. What would I—how would I—” She broke off, and Sarah heard girl chatter in the background. “I have to go. But Mom, you have to come home. You have to.”

The line went dead.