Page 19 of High Frequency

“Can we go check out the new house?” she asks.

Sully mentioned the influx of trucks rumbling past the house are heading for the property in the back, which apparently belongs to Dan. I had no idea, but my uncle told me he’s building a house along the river.

For some reason, I’d always pictured Dan living at High Meadow forever. So hearing he’s building a place of his own immediately piqued my curiosity. Uncle Sully lived in one of the cabins at the ranch until he had a family and then he built this place, needing more room. I never really stopped to think maybe Dan has found someone he wants to start a family with.

There was no way I was going to ask Sully, but the first chance I had, I cornered Pippa. I tried to be casual about it, but I think she saw right through me. She mentioned he may have been seeing Shelby Vandermeer at some point—I remember her parents; they own the feedstore—but didn’t believe it was anything serious. I have to admit, that didn’t feel very good.

Still, I’m curious by nature—hence my chosen profession—so I take Carmi up on her suggestion.

“Sure, why not?”

It’s warm out, so I leave Aspen in her romper when I fit her into the baby sling, but I do rub some sunscreen on her legs and arms, and fit the little sun bonnet on her head for protection. She likes facing outward so she can kick her legs and wave her arms.

My daughter is a mover, even before she was born, she seemed to be in constant motion. She’s already rolling over and before you know it, she’ll be crawling all over the place. I get the feeling I’ll be having a hell of a time keeping her contained.

“Do you like fishing?” Carmi asks as we walk around the house to the back.

“Sure. Your dad used to take me all the time when I was younger. Taught me how to clean fish too.”

Carmi exaggerates a mock shudder and kicks at a small stone in her path.

“Why? You don’t like fishing?” I probe.

“Fishing’s fine, but not the cleaning part. Yuck.”

I grin as I let my eyes drift over the river. “Gotta clean ’em if you wanna eat them.”

“But doesn’t the blood bother you?”

I focus on my cousin.

“Not really. I mean, I don’t think about it, but I remember a friend in high school who would faint if she got a paper cut.” I veer into Carmi and bump her lightly. “What made you ask?”

“I dunno. I was thinking you probably can’t be a detective if blood bothers you.”

“Does it bother you?”

She makes a gagging sound that more than conveys her answer, and I wonder if perhaps she’d thought about becoming an investigator one day. In which case, I’d better not inform her there are much worse things than blood you can be confronted with. My mind is briefly transported back to the first autopsy I attended. Not a pleasant experience, and it doesn’t really get easier with time.

I hook my arm through hers as the sounds of construction get louder. The house can’t be too far.

“You know, I remember you used to hate broccoli when you were little, but you sure seemed to like it last night.” I give her a little squeeze. “We grow out of stuff when we get older. Who knows? Ten years from now the sight of blood may not bother you anymore.”

“I hope so.”

It’s hot out and there isn’t a lot of tree cover, so by the time we walk around the first truck parked along the side of the dirt road, Aspen is literally plastered against my front, and I am sweaty and gross. I’m tempted to turn around, but curiosity, as well as Carmi’s determined pace a few steps in front of me, drives me forward.

Until my young cousin stops abruptly and I almost bump into her.

“Wow,”she breathes.

When I follow her line of sight, I have to agree.

“Holy hotness.”

The house is not much of a house yet. The foundation is obviously in, but they’ve just begun to stack the giant logs that are apparently to make up the outside walls. A large crane sits beside the stack of lumber for the heavy lifting. The walls are two high and it looks like they’re in the process of adding the third layer of logs.

They, being five healthy, wide-shouldered, and shirtless men.

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