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She smiles and even with this dead body hanging over us, she seems back to her usual, light self. Maybe it’s because we found our suspect, although his death raises more questions than it answers. All of which I hope to find when we search his house.
“Sure, let me grab my gear.”
Making our way from Eureka to Rockville requires navigating a labyrinth of country roads through the marshlands between the islands. It’s a cool day, and the windows are down. Country music plays softly on the radio, and Britt threads her fingers in the breeze as we pass mile after mile of red cedars, live oaks, loblolly pines, and palmettos.
I think about yesterday at the fair and today in the courthouse, and I exhale a laugh. “I think my brother’s trying to wear me down.”
She looks over at me. “How so?”
“I think he’s being nice, offering to keep Owen, so he can trick me into going to church with him.”
Her cheeks lift with her laugh, and she leans her head against the back of the seat. “Why would he want to trick you into going to church?”
My hand rests on top of the steering wheel, and I look out over the tall grasses growing thick in the marsh.
“After our dad died, he got really into all that stuff. He likes to give me a hard time because I don’t believe.” Exhaling heavily, I look down at my lap. “Mom’s right there with him, saying Owen needs dreams and magic in his life.”
Britt turns in her seat to face me. “Your mom said that?”
“Yeah.” I lift my chin with a bitter laugh.
“My mom would never believe anyone in your family felt that way.” I can’t comment on the topic of her mom, and she continues. “Your dad fought so hard to keep my gran from being mayor. Mom still hasn’t forgiven him for it.”
It’s a sting from our past, and I’m not sure how much it bothers her. “He realized he was wrong about Edna. The two of them were actually friends before he died.”
“I know.” Her voice is quiet, and I reach over to take her hand.
“She cares about the town, and my dad learned it from working with her. He thought she would be irresponsible and run it into the ground. He thought she’d turn Eureka into a laughingstock.” Sliding my thumb along the side of her hand, I say what I’m not sure he ever did. “He was wrong.”
She lifts her chin, looking up at me with so much vulnerability, her small hand in mine. “Sometimes you can be wrong about people.”
Her words settle around us like a blanket, until the GPS system interrupts, telling us we’re almost to our road. I give her hand a squeeze and return mine to the wheel. We take a narrow dirt road like so many others in this area, leading deeper into the forest, to a tiny cabin under a copse of pine trees.
Pulling up to the place, I shift the truck into park and kill the engine. We’re quiet for a moment, waiting to see if anyone will emerge. When no one does, I take my gun out of its holster and glance over at Britt.
“Wait here while I make sure it’s empty.”
Her eyes are serious, and she takes out her phone, holding it in her hand. “I’m ready to call for backup if we need it.”
Without another word, I slide out of the truck and close the door, walking slowly towards the porch. The windows are dark, and the only sound is the birds chirping overhead, the insects buzzing on the ground.
My boots thump on the wooden planks, and I knock loudly on the front door. “Anybody home?”
I wait, listening closely for the sound of shuffling or voices. Still, only the noise of birds and insects answer. Reaching out, I put my hand on the doorknob and turn it slowly. The door is unlocked, and it falls open easily, thumping against the wall.
I look back at Britt, whose eyes haven’t left me. Giving her a nod, I take a step forward, through the door, looking all around to see if another human is on the premises.
When I’m sure they’re not, I step onto the porch again and signal to her it’s all clear. She opens the door and slides out, carrying her camera as she trots up the stairs.
“That was intense.” A shaky laugh is in her tone.
I give her arm a squeeze. “You can never be too careful. People move out here because they don’t trust anyone. They’ll meet you at the door with a shotgun.”
“I hear that.”
Stepping through the small space, it looks like any other old hermit’s shack. There’s a couch and a reclining chair in front of a flatscreen television. The kitchen has a spindly wooden table and chairs, and the gas stove is ancient.
Britt takes a few quick photos then touches my arm. “I’m going to look around outside.”
