“You’ve been in here before?”
She grins. “Phrogging didn’t start with Julie’s age group.”
“No shit?” I laugh.
“No shit. But you don’t have to mention that to Becky. The Iversons owned this place then.” She eyes my glass of wine. “I have to drive back to Three Rivers, but after spending the day with our family, I’d love a glass of whatever you have.”
“Coming up.”
As I pour the finest wine the Dollar Store has to offer into a glass, I ask, “How is Julie?”
Chapter
Thirty-Five
Liv and I sit in the Adirondack chairs on the front porch overlooking the lake and sip wine. Above us, leaves rustle in the tall trees. The evening sun breaks through the maturing foliage, delivering a pleasant temperature through its rays. The roar of a motor fills our ears as one of the fishing boats starts its engine. The man at the hand motor directs it away across the calm water, leaving a V-shaped wake.
“I see why you’re staying here,” Liv says. “It’s more peaceful than Mom and Dad’s.”
“Dad doesn’t want me around.”
“I don’t know what’s up with him,” Liv says. “He’s stressed about Julie for sure, but he’s been stressed for a while.”
“Work?” I ask.
Liv lays her head against the tall back of the Adirondack chair with a sigh. “I don’t know. Before all this happened, he went off about the deer incident.”
I shake my head. “Upset that mom could have beenhurt? He’s been warning about deer for as long as I can recall.”
“He seemed mostly upset about his truck.”
“Oh shit. That’s stupid. That relic has to be nearly as old as Julie.”
“Seventeen years, I think,” Liv says. “It’s why Ollie agreed to fix it. But with the age of the model, he’s having issues getting the right parts.”
I change the subject. Honestly, I don’t care about Dad’s truck. “How is Julie? Has she said anything?”
“It’s difficult for her to speak. She’s hoarse from whatever was done to her neck. She won’t eat much, but she drinks a lot of water. Annabelle came and talked to her this evening. I guess Manes is trying to keep the other departments away for as long as possible. I thought it was cool he sent Annabelle. Who knew he could be sensitive?”
“Annabelle? I saw her out by the McKenna farm this afternoon.”
Liv puts her wine glass on the small table and stares at me. “Why were you out there?”
Pursing my lips, I shrug. “I guess I’m curious. I want to know who did this to her and Marty.”
“Jillian, not only is the Blue Gil Sheriff’s Department on this, but the county sheriff and state police have been called in. I doubt you can do anything that they can’t.”
Clenching my jaw, I stare out at the glistening water. The fisherman’s wake is gone; the resulting waves have long since rippled upon the shoreline.
As Liv tells me about Julie’s interview, I ponder thewaves. Created by a small motor, they continued until gone.
Was Craig’s death the motor, the creation of the waves that claimed Marty and almost claimed Julie?
According to Liv, who learned her information from Mom, Julie doesn’t recall anything beyond the bonfire. She remembers arriving at the party and can name some of the people in attendance: her friends, Austin, and a few older graduates. “She mentioned your neighbor,” Liv adds.
“My neighbor? You mean Keith Gilbert?”
Liv nods. “Julie mentioned him and Mrs. Coach.”
