Page 102 of The Summer Guests

“All? What happened?”

“Talk to Reuben.”

Jo stood up and headed down the lawn, toward the pond. The sliver of moon had now risen above the trees, and in the dim glow, she could just make out Reuben Tarkin’s silhouette, looming above two huddled figures at the water’s edge. And she heard a keening, so faint it might have been only the whisper of the wind.

It was Brooke, murmuring: “It’sherfault. It’s allherfault.”

Brooke did not look up as Jo approached, even as Jo came to stand right beside the trio. She just kept rocking back and forth, murmuring. Water lapped and splashed against the dock. From somewhere on the pond came the haunting cry of a loon.

“She was trying to drown the woman,” said Reuben. “I saw them, dragging her out of the house. When I got here, they had her head pushed under the water. I tried to stop it, and this one, she fought me like a damn crazy woman. Then the boy, he came after me too.” Reuben shook his head. “I might’ve gotten a little rough with him, knocked out a few teeth. Oh, they’ll blame me for it. The Conovers, they always blame me.”

“Not this time,” said Jo. This time, the Conovers would finally face the consequences. She looked down at the huddled figures. “Brooke?”

Brooke did not seem to hear her. She had her arms wrapped around her son and was rocking him back and forth as she kept murmuring, “It’s all her fault.”

“How is this Susan’s fault?” asked Jo.

“Not Susan.Hers!The whore. And her baby. She said there was ababy. I thought we were done with her, but she couldn’t stay away. She had to come back and ruin everything.”

She’s talking about the lady in the lake,thought Jo. The woman who’d been lying at the bottom of Maiden Pond all these years.

“I think your son’s been hurt,” said Jo. “Let me take a look at him.”

“No.”

“He needs attention.”

“No.” Brooke’s head snapped up and her teeth gleamed in the moonlight, white and feral. “He’smyson.Itake care of him, onlyme.”

Jo glanced up to see flashing lights pulsating through the trees; Mike had arrived, and in the distance was the wail of the approaching ambulance. She would need Mike’s help to pull this woman away from her son, to book them both into the jail. And that would be only the beginning of the ordeals to come. There’d be reports to write and the Conovers’ lawyers to battle and courtrooms to navigate. But for a woman named Anna, justice would finally be served. For sixteen long years, through the cycling of the seasons, through hard freezes and spring thaws, Anna had lain hidden at the bottom of Maiden Pond, waiting to be found. Waiting for the moment a teenage girl, swimming on a warm summer’s day, would dive deep enough to glimpse the whiteness of bones.

Anna had waited long enough.

Jo took out her handcuffs.

Chapter 47

Reuben

Abigail was dying.

It would not happen this month, or next month, but the end was in sight and inevitable, as it was for everyone who walked the earth. Abigail, stoic as always, had accepted the diagnosis without hysterics, without tears, and even though she’d dreaded this first day of chemotherapy and knew she’d soon lose the long, luxuriant hair she’d always been so proud of, she had kept her head high as he’d wheeled her into the hospital. She’d even managed a smile and a wave when the nurse took her into the infusion room.

Reuben was the one who’d wiped away tears. Who’d needed to flee outside to pull himself together.

He sat on a bench in the small hospital garden, under the shade of a dogwood tree. It was a sweet little garden, maintained by hospital volunteers who kept it weeded and mulched, and on this day in June, the rugosa roses were in full bloom, spilling their fragrance into the air. He thought about what life would be like without Abigail. For him it would be easier, of course, something he felt ashamed to acknowledge, even though it was true. So much of his life had been spent caring for her—bathing her, cooking for her, driving her to her appointments—and he felt at a loss, wondering how he’d fill those hours once she wasgone. No, he wouldn’t allow himself to think of that future just yet. It was disrespectful. And also unimaginable. He’d spent so much of his life caring for Abigail’s needs, and before that for their mother’s as well, that he scarcely knew how to attend to his own. Now everything in his life was about to change.

Just as it was changing for the Conovers.

He looked toward the hospital, wondering how Susan Conover was faring. That’s when he saw Jo Thibodeau stride out of the building. They spotted each other at the same time, and because of his many unfortunate brushes with the law, he automatically tensed up at the sight of her. Instead of climbing into her patrol car, she headed straight toward him.

“Mr. Tarkin?” she said. “Are you okay?”

Her question took him aback. So did the genuine look of concern in her eyes. Bewildered, he simply nodded.

“I just wondered. Seeing that you’re here, at the hospital.”

Now he understood the reason for her question. “I brought my sister. She’s getting her first chemo today.”

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