Page 91 of Bitterroot Lake


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The rented SUV was parked where Holly had left it, listing to one side. The crack she’d heard had been Renee, shooting out a tire.

Another vehicle was approaching, though she couldn’t see the road. She ducked behind the SUV, peerin

g through the windows. Out of nowhere came a streak of energy. A black-and-white dog, poking his nose at her. “Shep,” she whispered, grateful but confused.

A sheriff’s SUV came into view, another behind it, the drivers stopping well back of the ice house, as if according to a plan. Her cousin slipped out of the lead vehicle, gun in hand, gesturing to his uniformed deputy with the other.

“Leo!” she called, crawling out from behind the SUV. “Leo.” Then she ran to him, the dog behind her. Explanations tumbled out of her as she pointed to the ice house door and a whimpering Renee Harper.

“You okay? You’re not hurt?” he asked.

“Yes. No. But where’s Holly?”

No time for answers, as Leo and the deputy took charge. By the time they had Renee cuffed and were checking out her injuries, George arrived, emerging from the woods to stand next to Sarah. He ran his gnarled fingers over the dog’s ears, a shotgun in his other hand. For the first time, she noticed the ancient Chevy truck parked behind the small, square white house.

And then she heard her name and Holly came racing around the end of the pond, past the homestead shack, and into her arms. More deputies arrived, followed by EMTs, and once again, the two sisters watched an ambulance leave the woods and speed down the North Shore Road to town.

“She’ll live,” Leo said. They’d moved off the lane and into the woods, giving the deputies and medics room to do their jobs. “Whatever you stabbed her with was sharp enough to hurt like hell and make her bleed like crazy, but not enough to do any serious damage.”

“Thank God,” Sarah said. “I want her to die in prison, and not any time soon. I assume the gun belonged to Lucas. I tucked it on top of the rear tire, in the wheel well. I left the ice splitting fork under the car.” She pointed and a deputy trotted over to her vehicle.

Still gripping the heavy black flashlight she’d grabbed in the lodge, Holly explained how she’d gone into the smaller, secondary storage room. When she heard voices, she peeked into the larger room and saw Renee confronting Sarah.

“I didn’t know if she had a gun, but I knew she meant trouble. No cell signal, so I sprinted out the back and around to our car, but it had the flat. I checked Renee’s car”—she gestured at the blue sedan parked beside the ice house—“but she’d taken her keys. I didn’t see George’s truck so I ran down to the lodge, intending to grab Nic or Janine’s car and drive up to where I could call for help. Didn’t know I could still run like that.”

“Holly, honey,” George said. “I’ve got a landline. And I never lock my doors. You coulda gone in.”

“Now you tell me.” Turned out Nic and Janine had managed to splice the landline at the lodge and got it working, so Holly called Leo. Who was already on his way—moments after Holly left, George had arrived home after dropping off his great-granddaughter.

“I saw two vehicles I didn’t recognize,” he said. “Not that I’m one to worry about trespassers, but I been seeing that blue car prowling around and it felt hinky. I didn’t wanta go over there myself, after sitting on those damned aluminum bleachers for hours, but the dog was clueing on danger. So I called you,” he said to Leo. “Forgot for a moment you’re a McCaskill and I’ve got my beef with your family.”

His old grudge, flared up from news of the recent purchase. How much had Renee told him? “We’ll sort that out later, George,” Sarah said.

“Then I heard the gunshot, so I grabbed this.” George gestured with the shotgun, then continued. “But you three had things in hand, like true McCaskills. You, sir, are a damn fine sheriff,” he said to Leo before turning to the sisters. “And you are my neighbors and friends no matter what. No matter what.”

“No matter what,” Sarah agreed, and glanced down. There, on the duff of the forest floor, amid the pine needles and spruce cones and bits of moss, lay three shiny bright pennies.

EPILOGUE

Two Weeks Later

Thirty-five days. Or was it thirty-six? Was she losing count? Her therapist had said she would, eventually, but what Sarah hadn’t anticipated was the mingled sense of peace and sadness that brought.

Jeremy was still dead. But she was alive. She stood on the grass near the water’s edge, the sunlight rippling the water as it rocked gently over the colored cobble, and lifted her face to the sun. Raised her hands high above her head, then swept them down and bowed low. Moved through the familiar poses, feeling her muscles stretch.

The world bowed you now and then. Bent you over, brought you to your knees. The pain was like a sharp wind that tossed you from the safe nest you’d labored to build, shattered the glass you’d kept between yourself and the world. If you were lucky, you came through it with your eyes and your heart open. She felt the sun warm her skin. Brighter, warmer, and stronger every day.

Abby had flown in two days ago. Yesterday, they’d hauled the old canoe down to the water and paddled along the shore. They were going riding this afternoon, out to Granite Chapel, and picking Noah up tonight. The day after Renee Harper was charged with the murder of Lucas Erickson and attempted murder for the shot she took at Sarah, the McCaskills finally had their family meeting and opened up the trunks that held their secrets. The three siblings, Brooke, and Peggy had sat around the kitchen table and talked over “the Knuffle Bunny deal” and the future of the lodge. They’d invited Leo, who, bless him, had said thanks but the fate of the family holdings was up to them, and he and his brother would be content with whatever they decided. Connor agreed with Sarah that they would tell George everything about the land purchase and encourage him to stay on the property, living in the house on the lake if he chose, but that they would keep their theories about his grandfather and Anja to themselves.

Peggy confessed her hope that Holly would return to Deer Park. And that Sarah would actively protect Jeremy’s investment in McCaskill Land and Lumber by getting more involved in the company, and that she would invest both time and money in Whitetail Lodge. Rebuild herself and her life here on the shores of Bitterroot Lake.

Too soon to say. But the way Abby had immediately been drawn to Janine’s cooking and her plans for the space in town, Sarah wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to stay in Deer Park for the summer. She’d quickly fallen for Bastet and the adoration was mutual. The cat’s owners had not been located, and it seemed clear that wherever she’d come from, however she got here, she too was meant to be at Whitetail Lodge. Sarah was not looking forward to her first wedding anniversary alone, but she vowed that she and her children would celebrate Father’s Day together, no matter what or where.

Janine had left her job in Missoula and moved into one of the cabins. Nothing could be done about the attack—too long ago, the assailant now dead. But Leo had given her the department’s official apology, and she’d accepted it. Sarah had gone with her to order a stone for her mother’s grave, which wasn’t far from Anja’s, and they’d visited both.

Holly hadn’t decided yet whether to accept Becca Smalley Kolsrud’s job offer. Right now, she was busy cataloguing the letters, journals, and other ephemera they’d found in the carriage house. Caro’s trunk was just the beginning. One day, one project at a time, the sisters were rebuilding their trust in each other.

Nic had gone back to Billings, taking, Sarah was sure, those rusty needle-nose pliers with her. Once school was out, she and Kim would return with Tempe for a week or two.

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