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“What? Oh, right.” He’d been far from Cooper Springs. “No, they haven’t arrested anyone,” Martin replied. “The police think she was killed somewhere else and left at the bridge. That’s what I know.”
Martin had been considering replacing the bridge. Not that it would right the terrible wrong Lizzy Harlow had suffered, but it was in bad shape anyway, decrepit from years of exposure to the elements. And, it seemed to him, a fresh start might be in order. A new span maybe wouldn’t remind Cooper Springs residents of a tragedy every time they crossed it. If it had been him left out there, he wouldn’t want people to think about him being brutalized and murdered when they were heading to the beach; he’d rather be remembered for his life.
He set the final box, labeledDVDs and cables,down next to the small couch he’d purchased online. The couch was an odd shade of gold, but it fit perfectly in front of the living room window. He’d never be able to fall asleep on the thing while rewatching his favorite junk TV shows and catching up on other programs he’d missed, but he liked it.
“Last box,” he said with satisfaction. Unloading the van hadn’t taken as long as he’d thought it would; there was something good to be said about downsizing.
Charley plopped onto the couch with a thump and then sat forward. “Not too bad,” he said before grabbing the DVD box and pulling it toward himself. He flipped the lid open. “What have we got here?” Reaching in, he pulled out Martin’s box set ofThe Bourne Identity. “Matt Damon. Not bad, not bad.” Setting those to one side, he picked out a couple more. “Silence of the Lambs,American Psycho. Martin, do you have a dark side you’re hiding from us?”
“Like I would admit it to you if I did,” Martin said, snatching the movies back and tossing them in the box.
Ignoring him, Charley dug further. “Homicide,Law and Order,CSI. Martin has a crime kink. But no porn. Sad.”
“And all I can get you to watch are documentaries about vanishing species,” Simon said. “Pot, kettle, the two meet again.”
Straightening up, Martin’s spine popped like a firecracker.
“How’s the back, old man?” Simon teased, wincing while he rubbed the small of his own.
“There’s a beer in my future and maybe an aspirin. And I’m only eight years older than you”—Martin shot Simon a glare—“and probably in better shape.” Especially since the scare he’d had last spring. “Definitely in better shape.”
He’d spotted the real estate listing while he’d been recuperating—in between bingeing true crime shows—and hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind. The longer the property had sat on the market, the more Martin had felt it was waiting for him. Nothing like a cardiac event to get a person off their ass.
And the passing of his Aunt Heidi. He’d learned after her death that she’d left him the entirety of her estate.“I see you fading away—just like I did. I don’t want that for you, Martin.”
Heeding Heidi’s last wishes, Martin had taken his inheritance, sold his house, and now… now, here he was. He almost couldn’t believe he’d actually done it. Simon wasn’t the only one who thought he’d made a terrible choice, leaving a tenured position at a major research university for a run-down resort. Frankly, there were days when Martin doubted his own sanity. He’d spent two decades working in a field that studied rocks, things that changed very little in a human lifespan. And Martin had gone and changedeverythingabout his life. So, yeah, he worried in the dark of night that he’d made a reckless decision.
Yet here he was, moving forward instead of staying the same. And somehow, he knew Aunt Heidi was proud of him.
Raising one hand, Simon flipped him off and then winced. “Oh, that hurt.”
“You need a hot pad? I have one around here somewhere.” Martin looked around again at the stacks taking up the small space. There were boxes in all the rooms, and he had no idea where much of anything was. At least they’d gotten his bed set up first thing, so he didn’t need to worry about where he was going to sleep.
“No.” Simon glared at him. “I don’t need a hot pad,Dad.”
Charley’s eyes widened. He eyed Martin in a way that had him crossing his arms over his chest.
“It never occurred to me before, Martin, but you do have that Daddy vibe,” he said with a revolting leer. “All the boys in town will be flocking to you.”
“Fuck off harder and farther, Charley,” Martin growled. Stretching his back and arms again, he got a whiff of himself. He was going to need a shower before he unearthed his bed and collapsed onto it. But first, food. “I promised you guys drinks and dinner. Are you ready to check out the pub?”
The least he owed his friends was dinner and drinks. After arriving in town, the three of them had spent the morning making his new living quarters somewhat livable and the early afternoon transferring the boxes containing Martin’s belongings from the moving truck into the cabin.
Charley batted his eyes. “Lead the way, Daddy.”
Simon snickered. Martin glared and pushed him out the door.
NICK - THE ENEMY MOVES IN
Fact: There are 18 volcanoes in the United States that have the potential to erupt, all in Alaska, Hawaii, and the West Coast.
And then there’s Nick Waugh.
NickhatedMartin Purdy. Of all the people in the world—in the entire fucking world—how was it possible thatProfessorMartin Purdy had been the person who’d swooped in and bought the resort?
Martin Fucking Purdy.
Nick had kept an eye on Purdy and his two friends most of the day, but he’d finally decided he needed a breather around midafternoon and made his way over to the Steam Donkey for some conversation. He’d been there about forty minutes when Purdy and crew waltzed in.
