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“Well,” Keith said. “That settles it. No police.”

TWELVE

SAMANTHA

As if she’d been watching us, sensing the conflict, waiting for the others to leave me alone, Linda had suddenly appeared right beside me, following Emily back around to the deck. Her curious, confident expression definitely suggested she’d been watching us, even if she hadn’t heard what we’d said.

“What was he digging for?” she asked.

I felt my lips part slightly. I clamped them back together. I couldn’t appear shocked or upset by her question. She couldn’t know I was scared that she’d find out what we’d done. Worried about what she would think of me.

“Which one is your husband? The hot guy who was digging, or the other one?”

Her description of Patrick, alongside her lingering question to which I had no response, made me feel as if my face was on fire, the red-tinted inflammation of my cheeks and lips announcing that I was about to lie. It was like talking to my own mother, feeling as if she could read my thoughts at times.

“Well? Is he yours?”

“He’s my husband.” I gave her a hopeful smile.

She moved closer. “And what was he digging for? If you’re looking for gold, you need to brush up on geography. You should have stopped in Placerville for that. But you need to know, the only gold left in California surfaces in minuscule flakes. Doesn’t stop the tourists from wading through creeks and chipping away at granite, thinking they’ll find a nugget worth millions.” She laughed.

I still had no idea what to say. My mind wouldn’t function. Every time I tried to express myself since that moment when I’d looked at his body in the pool, my brain would freeze on a single word, or image. I couldn’t seem to access the thoughts and words I needed. Maybe the real problem was I was trying to conjure up a believable lie, and since I rarely lied in my day-to-day conversations, it didn’t come easily.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Linda said. “You wouldn’t be the first ones, if you thought you’d find gold embedded in the boulders on your property.”

“He’s a firefighter,” I said. “There were piles of pine needles and he wanted to spread them out so there’s less risk of fire danger.”

Linda smirked. “If you say so.”

“I should⁠—”

“When we arranged for the sale of my property to you, I thought you’d be good neighbors, even though you aren’t here full time. In the mountains, neighbors are important. There are more threats out here than in the suburbs.”

“I know. We’re are good neighbors, I promise.” I gave her a hopeful smile.

“I can’t escape the feeling you’re lying.”

My face flushed again. “I’m not a liar.”

“Maybe not, but it feels like you’re lying now. You expect me to believe he was using a pick to scatter pine needles? I’m not stupid, so please show me some respect. If you don’t want to say why, then tell me that.”

“He was doing fire mitigation.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m very curious to know what he was digging for. He seemed almost frantic about it.”

I laughed, but the sound was high-pitched, exposing how uncomfortable I was. I took a few steps away from her.

“I’ll have to ask him myself. Because I really am curious.”

“Were you watching us?”

“In the mountains, privacy is sometimes a luxury. There are wild animals that have been known to find their way into people’s homes—raccoons, bears. And the weather is an entity unto itself. Neighbors are important. Critical, I would say.” She moved toward me, closing the gap I’d created.

“You’ll be able to count on us for anything that comes up,” I said. “But… were you spying on us?” I laughed, trying to give my question a less accusatory tone.

“I wasn’t spying on you, Samantha. I was on my front porch, and I saw your husband with a pick and shovel. He was attacking the earth as if someone was buried alive under there and he had to get them out before they suffocated.”

I laughed again, my tone reaching an almost hysterical pitch now. “You have an imagination.” Did she? Or had she seen us pull the body out of the pool?