Page 54 of Buried in the Woods Below

“How did he take it?”

“He just laughed and said, ‘We’ll see about that’ and grabbed his fishing rod and hopped on his boat.”

Eric stares out at the lake, distant, as the girls sprawl in the grass beside him, dreaming up shapes in the clouds. The lines on his forehead are deeper, the bags under his eyes fuller, his normally ruddy skin paler. As if he’s been carrying an unknown weight, and it’s finally breaking him. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something and then shuts it. Then he shakes his head and muscles a smile onto his face, turns to me, and says, “Enough talk about Russ Neuman. It’s a beautiful day. You should enjoy it. I’ll take over with the girls. Go have fun.”

“Are you sure?” I’m being polite, but I could definitely use a break from these two, and people in general. After several hours of socializing, I’m toast.

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, well, since it sounds like Russ is out fishing, I might use this opportunity to take another hike. I’m not looking to run into him again.”

“I don’t blame you.” His face brightens, and he raises a finger. “Hang on, I’ve got an idea.” He disappears inside for a moment and then reemerges, holding a leather belt that, upon closer inspection, conceals a hunting knife.

He hands it to me with a wink. “Just in case you run into Russ or any other unwelcome creatures.”

I unsheathe the knife. The sharp, serrated blade glistens in the sunlight.

“Thanks?” I say, with an intentional question mark, half amused and half uneasy.

“You’re very welcome.” He pauses, then reaches out, gently brushing a stray hair from my face. Our eyes lock for a moment before he looks away and clears his throat. “Now get out of here. If you go now, it should be smooth sailing.”

Before I can say more, Penelope tugs at his shirt. “Daddy, come play hide-and-seek with us.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, jogging off and teasing over his shoulder. “Maybe you can find me some more of those dolls you love so much.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” I say.

He grins, and I give him a dorky wave as I walk away. It’s like I’m a teenager with braces all over again. As I hop up the steps to the house, I look back to steal one last glance at him, half hoping he’ll look back.

He does.

But as I take my eye off the step, my foot catches and I trip. I throw my hands out in front of me and catch my fall, barely avoiding a total disaster. Blood rushes to my face. I look back at Eric, and he’s polite enough to turn his head toward the lake and pretend he didn’t see it, which somehow makes it worse.

Char-klutz strikes again.

Chapter 27

Fifteen minutes later, I’m trekking toward the Big Island Nature Park, a hunting knife awkwardly strapped around my blue running shorts and hidden beneath a neon tank top. I laugh to myself. I look ridiculous—like a yoga instructor who finally snapped and went feral.

Tugging the hem of my shirt down to cover the belt, I wade through the elms, fending off the mosquitoes, mentally noting landmarks as I go. I try to avoid dwelling on why I’m carrying a knife in the first place.

Instead, I sort through the questions that have been clawing at my mind.

Who killed Marjorie Neuman? The police dropped the case, but they clearly thought she had been murdered.

Who left the “LEAVE. OR ELSE.” note? Most likely Russ Neuman, but we can’t be sure, thanks to Eric’s insistence on “going rustic” without cameras or phones. Could Vivek have left it? Trying to bully me off the island? He didn’t seem surprised when I canoed up to his house. But he couldn’t have known I was staying at the Parkers’, could he?

How did Heathcliff die? We’re still waiting on the vet’s report, but I agree with Eric: It probably wasn’t Russ. The guy looked genuinely confused when I mentioned a dog. Would the twins kill their own pet? I wouldn’t put it past them.

Could all of this be connected somehow?

The thought yanks me back to my past.

I was eleven. My dad had taken me out on the lake at sunset. We cruised through golden water, the maples darkening on the shore. I was sipping a Squirt, my dad nursing a beer. Just as we were heading home, I saw a splash.

Arms flailing in the water.

I told my dad to stop. Someone was drowning.