Another shot showed a fuzzy view of the back end of a truck. Circles of light, like spotlights, illuminated the vehicle. Rescue workers wearing longish coats covered with reflective tape hovered around the wreck.

I slammed the picture facedown on the quilt. My mother’s Ford. I tried to breathe. I flipped to the next shot. The profile of a crowd gazing at some sight on the ground below. In the foreground was a twisted and broken guardrail. Perhaps the spectators stood on the edge of a quarry and looked with horror or curiosity at the sight of a truck that had just crashed to the bottom. I squinted, recognizing the Johnson/Baker duo in the mix.

What did all of it mean? I stuck the last stack in the rear of the box, fit the lid, and set it on the floor beneath the window, next to the one Candice had given me earlier—the box with the photos of me and Mom and our short years together.

I opened my cell phone and dialed Candice’s number. Endless ringing. Of course. She had caller ID and wasn’t about to answer. Though she’d said she would be going away—Canada, wasn’t it? Perhaps she’d already left.

Brad would know what to do. I craned for a peek out the bedroom window, kicking the photo boxes aside to get a better view. Brad’s vehicle was missing. He must still be down at Puppa’s barn.

I scooped up the photo box nearest the wall and headed downstairs. The mix of voices indicated the women had returned. I stopped in the archway. Samantha and Missy worked at putting a meal together. Hannah did card tricks at the counter. Gerard was awake and leaning back against the sink with Andrew clinging to one hip. The sight seemed incongruent with my former impressions of the man. Yet over the weeks he’d become increasingly more comfortable with the Mr. Mom thing. Now he looked like a natural.

“Hey, Tish.” Samantha glanced at me in between measuring flour and dumping it in a bowl.

“Hey.” I gripped the box to my chest and headed toward the kitchen door. “I’m going to Puppa’s for a while. See ya.”

I scooted out before anyone could question my mission.

Just before I reached my vehicle, a voice called my name.

I turned. Melissa walked toward me.

She touched my free arm. “I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done. I didn’t realize when I first talked to you back in February what a savior you’d be. Because of you, I’m safe. And my kids are safe. When I told Hannah that her daddy was dead, do you know what she said to me? ‘Now he can’t hurt us anymore, Mumma.’ Even a four-year-old had more sense than me.” She raised her brows and looked at me intently. “Thank you. For everything.” The last word dripped with meaning.

I looked at her pretty face, beaming with future hope, and realized from her tone that she thought I killed Drake. She assumed, like everyone else must, that once a murderer, always a murderer. I backed away from her, wordless, and got in the Explorer. In my rearview mirror I watched her practically skip back to the house. I turned the curve out of sight of the lodge and gunned the engine, flying through potholes and testing the durability of my shock absorbers.

I turned onto the highway, then a few minutes later veered left at the cider mill sign, turning down to Candice’s house. I pounded on the front door. No answer.

“Candice?” I called, walking around to the back. The porch door hung open. I went in. Muddy feet had trekked through the place. I went from room to room, horrified at the chaos scattered throughout the once spotless farmhouse. The office had taken the brunt of it. Camera equipment, photos, and bills scattered the floor. Drawers had been pulled open and left askew. The pictures from the walls had been smashed against the desk, leaving a pile of glass and twisted frames on the carpet.

Someone had searched the place—no doubt looking for the black box. My heart thundered in my chest.

I raced toward the back door, but slowed at the sound of an approaching vehicle. I peered around the back corner of the house. It was Jim Hawley’s rusty diesel. I made a snap decision and headed to his truck.

“Hey, Jim,” I greeted him as if nothing were wrong.

“And how is Miss Amble today?” His posture and voice were laid back.

“Good. Are you looking for Candice?”

“Nope. She left earlier for a trip. I’m just here to shut the water off and check the locks.”

“Someone got here before you, Jim. The place is a mess.”

He swore under his breath. “Some people just can’t let the past be past. Always got to be dredging up old stuff. Even when Candice is doing her best to make things right.”

I wondered if he knew Candice had shot and killed somebody not long ago. Maybe in his mind that fell in the category of making things right. “Who do you think would do something like that?”

“Majestic, probably. Ever since you showed up around here again, he’s been getting his undies all in a bundle. Candice kept trying to tell him you’re no threat, but he quit listening to her when he figured out she was angling to fold up her end of the operation and turn him in.” He blushed under his gray beard. “But you won’t tell anyone I told you that, right?”

“Not a soul. Gotta go!” I waved and ran for my SUV. I put the pedal to the metal, narrowly missing an oncoming car as I blew onto the highway toward my grandfather’s house.

Steam billowed out my ears. Candice hadn’t so much lied to me as much as she’d sheltered me from a few important details, such as the fact that Frank Majestic—the man my father had turned in so long ago—also considered me a threat. It sure would have been nice to know that information before I took the box from Candice with a promise to deliver it to my grandfather. And what about her claim that she was a professional photographer? I hadn’t realized she meant behind the lens of a spy-cam.

I glanced at the box of photos on the seat next to me. Candice had obviously catalogued a couple decades of incriminating evidence, including the night my mother met with my father at the Watering Hole. I wish Candice would have told me she’d been there. She must have known that Baker and Johnson were the men my dad saw waiting for him before he ran out the back door. And the two deadbeats had been at the edge of the quarry when there was nothing but taillights showing at the bottom. No wonder Homer Johnson had been so certain my mother had killed herself. He’d actually witnessed the crash and had the gall to lie about it.

I took the curve past Port Silvan. The pictures in the black box had been Candice’s life insurance policy. What would happen now that they were out of her hands?

I stared at the road ahead. Why did I even care?

The lake house looked serene as ever against the blue backdrop of Silvan Bay. I parked in the circle drive, one front tire cockeyed on the curb. Inside, Great-Grandma Olivia sat on her high-back chair in the living room.

“Hi, Grandma.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Have you seen Puppa around?”

She looked at the box under my arm. “What’s in there? A gun? Have you come to kill your old grandmother as well?”

I shook my head. “Don’t be silly. I haven’t killed anyone.”

“That’s not what I heard. It’s all over town. Drake Belmont’s dead and you killed him because of that Melissa woman.”

I plunked onto the couch, the box of photos burning a hole in my lap. “Oh, Great-Gram. It’s all just a bunch of gossip. Why do you even listen?”

“I make it my business to know what’s going on in this town. The Belmonts and Russos were among the founding families. It’s my duty to see that Port Silvan stays civilized.”

I looked at the frail old woman. Her shoulders were hunched with the weight of her obligation.

“Grandma Olivia,” I said softly, “did you overhear me telling Puppa about Melissa that day in your bedroom?”

She nodded and looked to the floor. “I knew a good girl like Melissa would never leave her husband. I made an anonymous call to the state police and told them what Drake was doing—and what he was doing to her.” She played with the gold locket dangling from her neck. “I remember how hard it was to look in the mirror every morning when someone you loved was so cruel.”

“Making that call must have been hard. But it gave Melissa the chance she needed to try to get her life together.” I set the box of photos aside and kneeled next to her, patting her shoulder.

She clenched a fist in her lap. “I didn’t know I’d start all this trouble. I just wanted to help Melissa. But then you tried to help and now you’re in trouble too. First they burned down your little barn. Now Drake’s dead. It’s just like the time your mother tried to help Jacob. Look what happened to her.” She wrung her hands in her lap. “I feel so terrible, Patricia. I know your mother didn’t turn in Sid. I’m the one that made that phone call. I figured time in jail would convince him to stay out of the drugs. How was I to know Sid’s drug boss would start that house fire? The police didn’t even have a chance to arrest him or he’d still be alive today.”

“No, Great-Gram, that fire had nothing to do with you. You aren’t to blame for any of that. Okay?”

“I’ll always feel responsible. And now I’ve put you in danger too. I should have learned.”

I couldn’t tell her about Candice’s part in the fire and Drake’s death without upsetting her more. “Listen.” I took Olivia’s hands in mine and looked her straight in the eye. “I’m a Belmont and Russo too.” It felt good to claim my full heritage. “How about if I take over your job? If you hear of anything going wrong in this town, you tell me about it and I’ll fix it. Okay? You deserve some time off.”

Olivia’s lip quivered. Her eyes teared up. “Yes. I think that will be okay. You handled Drake, didn’t you? And that was the right thing to do. Melissa shouldn’t have had to live like I had to all those years.”

I hugged her from the side. “You’ve been so brave your whole life. You made it through so much. I’m so proud of you.”

She was all tears by now and couldn’t even open her eyes. She clung to my shoulder. “Thank you, Patricia.”

After she calmed somewhat, I grabbed some tissue from the dispenser on the end table and helped her dry her face. “I’m so lucky to know you.” I dabbed at the deep crow’s feet around her eyes. “I’d like to hear more about your life sometime. How about Thursdays we get together?”

Olivia nodded.

Then, despite the crushing urgency of the box of photos, I boiled water and made two cups of tea.

We were laughing over a horse named Sarge that once belonged to Olivia’s father, when Puppa, Joel, and Brad walked into the room.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

My grandfather answered. “I just got a call from Candice.”

“Is she okay? I was just at her house, and—”

He cut me off. “She says you have a box that belongs to her.”

“Yes. She asked me to give it to you. I have it right there.” I pointed to the sofa.

Grandfather’s eyes darted to the box and back to me. “Did you look through it?”

I swallowed. “That would be like opening somebody else’s mail.”

“We’ll take it from here. You better get back to the lodge,” Puppa said.

“Why? What’s going on? Is Candice going to be alright?”

Brad gently steered me out the front door and to my vehicle. “I’ll drop by later and fill you in. Everything’s going to be okay.” He dipped his head and kissed me. My lips tried to keep his as he pulled away. He slammed the door shut. “Hurry home, Tish.”

37

In my rearview mirror, I watched Brad walk into the house. The newly awakened adult in me felt indignant at the treatment I’d gotten from the men, as if I weren’t mature enough to handle the details regarding Candice’s situation. Puppa hadn’t spoken to her in years. And what did Joel and Brad even know about her? Maybe she’d lied to me, killed a few men in her life, and told me to get a new boyfriend, but we’d also had a lot of good times together. If she needed help, I should be the one to give it.

I drove up Puppa’s drive toward the highway, slowing to see my gentle mare. Heaven Hill Gold grazed in green pastures by still waters, a place I hoped to land someday. I smiled with excitement. Tomorrow Brad and I would go to town, he’d pop the question, and then perhaps I’d begin to see glimpses of my own green pastures.

I pulled onto the main road. I hadn’t spent as much time as I would have liked to with my pretty pony. Life always seemed to get in the way. I made a promise over my shoulder as I drove off that I’d be down to visit every day—starting tomorrow.