Page 109 of Running to You

“We should call the police.” She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “We can’t just leave her there.”

“Michael said he’d take care of it.”

Michael seemed able to take care of a lot of things for a guy who claimed to be a salesman.

He had secrets, but he’d done nothing but help them. He’d do right by her neighbor.

“Her husband died when I was in college. They lived in that house as long as I can remember. Her kids…” Eliza’s voice hitched. “What a horrible way to lose someone you love.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed her shoulders. “It’s incredibly selfish to say, but thank God it wasn’t you.”

“Or my mom. But the house…”

“Can be replaced,” Sam said. “And so can everything in it.”

“I know. You’re right. I just hate that I brought that on Mom. And Mrs. Jensen.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” He held her close even as she tried to push away. “It wasn’t, Eliza.”

“Of course it was. Of course it was my fault.”

She seemed to have cried all the tears she had for the day. Her voice was emotionless.

“You didn’t do that to your house, sweetheart. You didn’t kill Mrs. Jensen.”

“They were there because of me.”

“That doesn’t make it your fault.” He brushed his hands down her hair. He liked it long, liked the silky feeling between his fingers. So many things had changed between them, but she still fit perfectly in his arms.

“Did I ever tell you why we moved to Maine?”

The change of subject surprised him. “I don’t think so.”

“Back in Arkansas, we lived in the house Mom grew up in. Her parents left it to her when they died. Her closest friend since childhood lived next door. Miss Marianne. She was so funny and so kind. She could make Mom laugh until she cried. Mom was happy back then.”

Sam couldn’t imagine that. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a genuine smile on Linda Pelletier’s face.

“Marianne had a daughter who was my age. Kristen. We were best friends.

“When we were eight, we were playing in the woods at the edge of the property. We went farther than we usually did, all the way to the little creek. It was at the bottom of a steep hill, maybe ten, fifteen feet down.”

“A long way for a little girl.”

“Seemed like it. It was summer, hot and humid. The crickets were chirping, the tree frogs singing. Kristen started to climb down, but I stopped her. We weren’t supposed to play down there.”

“Why?”

Eliza’s shoulder lifted and fell against his chest. “Mom said it was dangerous. But I’d gone down the path with Dad, and I hadn’t seen anything dangerous. I figured Mom probably thought I’d drown. But Kristen and I had been taking swim lessons for years, and the creek was so shallow we could see the bottom. And I wanted to show Kristen the creek. I wanted to put my toes in the water and cool off. So I ignored Mom’s warnings.”

Sam could imagine the scene. Two little girls climbing down. Maybe it was the events of the day, or maybe the thought of the steep descent, but his chest tightened.

“We caught frogs, big fat slimy things that squished out of our fingers. We laughed and splashed each other. I knew that when I got home, Mom was going to kill me, but I was having too much fun to care. I was hopping from rock to rock, ruining my new shoes. And then Kristen screamed.”

Yup. He’d known something was coming.

“She was on the shore, holding onto her ankle. That’s when I saw the snake slithering away.”

Oh, no.