Page 18 of The Summer Guests

“One must always entertain doubts.Nullius in verba.Take nobody’s word for it.”

“Well, I believe him.”

“Because he’s your neighbor?”

“Because he’s far too intelligent to commit such a clumsy crime.”

“Crimes of opportunity are, by definition, not well thought out,” said Ingrid. “Think about it. The girl’s sitting in his truck. They’re all alone, with no witnesses around. And he’s a big man, certainly powerful enough to—”

“Ingrid, please,” said Maggie. “This is Luther Yount we’re talking about.”

“But it’s something we need to consider, isn’t it? That we’ve miscalculated. That the man’s not who we thought he was.”

Maggie could hardly argue the point. Their prior careers had primed them to question everything and everyone. More than once in her life, Maggie had been disappointed, even shocked, by people shethoughtshe knew.

As they left the boat ramp and started up the road along the western shore, she wondered if the truth about Luther had eluded her as well. If their friendship had blinded her to a dark side he’d kept hidden from her.

They assumed search formation, staying five abreast as they walked, Declan and Maggie along one edge of the dirt road, Ingrid and Lloyd on the other edge, and Ben moving straight down the center. Brambles and tall grasses encroached on either side, and they had to move slowly, poking through the weeds for evidence. The day was already warm, and their movements stirred up clouds of gnats and mosquitoes. Anyone who came across them would think them an odd sight, five gray-haired hikers in their sun hats and boots, moving shoulder to shoulder with almost military precision, stooping to examine the occasional cigarettebutt or some other bit of refuse. Every so often, Maggie caught sight of a waterfront cottage at the bottom of a driveway, but the curtain of evergreens allowed her only a glimpse of a gabled roof or a private dock. This was the desirable side of Maiden Pond, and the cottages along this shore were impressive enough to fetch equally impressive prices, even though they stood unoccupied for most of the year.

“You’d think people living on this road would be tidier,” said Lloyd, exposing an empty beer bottle that had been hidden in the underbrush. He inserted a twig in the bottle’s mouth and lifted it for a closer look. “Heineken. This label still looks fresh. It hasn’t been lying here very long.”

Ingrid pulled a paper bag from her backpack. “It’s evidence.”

“Of littering?” said Ben.

“There’ve been a few burglaries reported on this pond. Maybe the thief got thirsty.” She held open the bag. “In it goes. With any luck, it will have some nice crisp fingerprints.”

“There’s the driveway,” said Declan. He pointed to the sign nailed to a tree.

Moonview

Absolutely No Trespassing

For a moment they considered that forbidding notice as they stared down a tunnel of overhanging branches. The house itself was out of sight, hidden by a thick curtain of evergreens. Except for the whine of mosquitoes swarming their faces, it was eerily silent here.

“If the girl made it this far, she would have walked down this driveway,” Maggie said.

Lloyd gestured to the sign. “Do you suppose they really mean it?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” sighed Ingrid. “When has a ‘No trespassing’ sign ever stopped any of us? Let’s go.”

They fanned out again, trying to move abreast as before, but the encroaching woods forced them to weave through saplings andblackberry thorns that clawed Maggie’s trouser legs. When the driveway at last opened up and the house loomed into view, they all halted, staring at the cottage known as Moonview. The owners might call their summer homescottages, but this was a sprawling lakefront home, a house that might show up in tourist brochures with the captionMaine: The way life should be.From the house, a green lawn tumbled down to the pond, where a small private dock bobbed on the water.

The day had grown hot, the bugs more persistent, and Maggie eyed the water with longing, thinking how delicious it would be to plunge into the pond now, to float on her back and just drift, gazing up at the sky. Although her farm was only a mile away, she had not gone swimming this year because she’d been working such long hours. Soon summer would roar by and then there’d be a chill in the air, and her chance to float in a pond would have to be postponed until next year.How many summers do I have left?

The front door suddenly swung open, and a man emerged. He was in his late forties, with wheat-colored hair, dressed in crisp khakis and an oxford shirt. “Can I help you?” he asked. The words might be polite, but the tone of his voice conveyed an entirely different message:What are you doing on our property?

“We’re helping in the search for Zoe Conover,” said Ingrid.

“And you are?”

“Concerned citizens.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be meeting at the boat ramp?”

“The search teams already have that area covered. But if Zoe made it this far down the road—”

“Look,” he cut in. “Our whole family’s been up since dawn, searching for her, and we’re exhausted. We don’t need amateurs tramping all over the yard. My wife’s on the phone with the police right now, so if you don’t mind leaving the property—”

---