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“Former detective,” Casey says.
“Still in some form of law enforcement, like your husband there.” Belinda waggles her gray brows. “All very mysterious. I’ve been voting forspies, but Robyn tells me I read too many novels.”
“We’d make pretty lousy spies if everyone realizes we’re law enforcement.”
“Ah, but that’s the trick, see? We only know because we’re all as curious as cats out here. No sense trying to hide anything from us.”
There’s a lead there, but it’d be too jarring, and Casey only nods and lays her paddle over the bow, resting comfortably.
“Well,” Casey says, “I can guarantee we aren’t private investigators. That might help with what I’m about to say.”
“Ah.” Belinda nods, still unruffled. “Busman’s holiday? Working on your vacation?”
“Curiosity is an occupational hazard.” Casey takes out the letter. “We found this at the lodge.”
I paddle close enough for Casey to lean over and hand the letter to Belinda. The older woman unfolds it. There’s a pause. Then she claps a hand to her mouth, her eyes tearing.
“Robyn!” she calls.
“I’m sorry if—” Casey begins.
“It’s fine,” Belinda says.
“You have a right to your privacy.”
“Maybe, but really, itisfine. It’s been so long that no one cares. There just hasn’t been any reason to come out of the woodwork. Too much hassle, and for all I know, I’d face charges for causing a fuss.”
“You wouldn’t,” Casey says. “You didn’t stage your disappearance. You left an abusive marriage. No law against that.”
Another woman appears. She’s a head taller than Belinda, with a spare build and a dark, silver-streaked braid. Belinda passes her the note.
“A blast from the past, huh?” Belinda squeezes Robyn’s arm. Then she turns to us. “Wait. You found this at the lodge?”
“Er, seems it’s confession time,” Robyn says.
Belinda pivots to face her.
“I, uh, lost the letter,” Robyn says. “I read it, and I put it into my pocket. When I got to where you were waiting, I forgot all about it until the next day when I realized it was gone. That’s why I rushed back that morning. I spent hours searching for it while what’s-his-name was bellowing and stomping about searching foryou. I never did find this damn thing.” Robyn shakes the letter. “Can you imagine how many sleepless nights it caused me, certain it’d end up in the wrong hands? I only hoped it fell in the forest where no one would see it. Apparently not.”
“Wait,” Casey says. “You dropped it?”
“It fell out of my pocket, yes.”
“But we found it in an old soda bottle shoved into a log. That’s why we went looking—it seemed as if the recipient never retrieved it, which was worrying.”
Both women frown at us.
“A message in a bottle?” Robyn says.
Belinda laughs. “Then I guess itwasfound—by someone who thought that’d be a fun discovery. Put an old love letter in a bottle and hide it in a log. I feel like we owe you some kind of prize for finding it.”
“And extra credit for finding us,” Robyn says. “Would you join us for coffee? I just put the pot on.”
“We don’t want to be a bother,” Casey says.
“Please, join us,” Belinda says. “I’m dying to know how you tracked me down.”
9
