The air was cold and clear and smelled like turned earth and fallen leaves, the kind of smell that had no city equivalent. The clearing behind the tree line was larger than it had looked from the window. Sixty yards across, maybe more, ringed by ash and oak and birch, the grass long and going yellow. The trees were full color. Amber and copper and deep reds that looked as if they’d been painted in. It was the kind of October scene that appeared in touristy brochures on peak fall foliage tours.
She walked the perimeter, following much the same path as Shadow had earlier, noting things like layout, entry and exit points, and the paw prints that had been left behind in the soft ground. Not because she had to, but because that was what she had been trained to do. Details mattered.
Some people called it strange. She called it a useful skill for a medicolegal death investigator.
Standing in the middle of the clearing, she looked up at a sky that was shockingly blue between the branches. Almost the exact shade of the eyes of the guy she’d spilled coffee on, in fact.
Nope. She wasn’t going to think about him or the shade of his eyes. Wasn’t going to think about him at all.
Her supervisor had called it a problem, this inability to let things go until she had answers.
She walked back to the house.
Frank was in the living room, the paper set aside, reading one of the books from the shelf. He didn't look up. She hung the flannelback on the peg and took her book to the chair and they sat in companionable silence.
Outside, the light was already beginning to shift, turning golden a little earlier each day at this time of year.
Her phone buzzed on the side table. She looked at the screen. Her mother. Again. She ignored it. She’d done her due diligence by texting that she was alive and fine. That was all her mother needed to know.
4
A SENSE OF MISSED OPPORTUNITY
PATRICK
Patrick wason his second cup of coffee when Garrett came downstairs with a length of copper pipe. His cousin from Birch Falls was a good man to have around under any circumstance, but as someone who’d been working for his dad’s construction and renovation company since he could hold a hammer, he was especially useful in their fixer-upper.
Eventually, this would become not only their shared living space, but their customer-facing center of operations as well. Once they became official and opened their doors for business, that was. They were still working out the details, but itwasgoing to happen.
“Guest bathroom is temporarily out of commission,” Garrett said, by way of greeting.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad enough that I should've done it in August.” He set the pipe on the counter and poured himself a coffee. “Shouldn’t take me long once we’ve got the parts. Any chance you’re going into town today?”
“I could swing by the home center after the estate clean-out. Make me a list.”
Garrett glanced around, grabbed a takeout receipt from the counter, and scribbled a few lines on the back. “Thanks. I’d go myself, but I’ll be working late tonight getting the Thompson’s roof done before the rain hits. Speaking of, better pick up more buckets too.”
“On it.”
Garrett tossed back the last of his coffee and left. “Later.”
Patrick wasn’t far behind.
The estate jobtook longer than expected. Not only had the elderly resident been a hoarder, but her micro-managing daughter kept getting in the way, changing her mind about what she wanted to keep, what she wanted to sell, and what she wanted to donate.
The sight of the café made him think of his last visit there and the woman who’d been creeping into his thoughts ever since. Last night. This morning. Fifteen minutes ago.
He checked his watch. It was about the same time of day, and yeah, he could use a coffee.
Only a few tables were occupied. The counter was quiet. Jess looked up from the register when the door opened, andsomething in her expression shifted when she saw him. There it was. A spark of hope he’d done nothing to encourage.
“Wow, twice in one week,” she said with a flirty smile, suggesting that maybe he wasn’t coming in just for the coffee. “Large dark roast, right?”
“Right.”
She turned and started making it, smiling at him over her shoulder. “For here or to go?”