Page 26 of The Summer Guests

“I’ll add it to the thousand other things I need to review.” Jo glanced up as one of her officers walked into the room. “Mike, could you show these visitors out of the building?”

Mike took two steps toward them and froze as the visitors all turned to face him. He might have been armed with a weapon and a badge, but four gray-haired citizens were more than he was trained to deal with.

“We’ll show ourselves out, thank you,” Ingrid said with a smile. “But we’ll be back.”

Chapter 12

Susan

She could hear them talking downstairs, their voices somber and muffled, trying not to disturb her. On her dresser was the lunch tray that Elizabeth had brought up hours earlier, still untouched. A chicken sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup, neither of which she could stomach. Certainly not the soup, so bright red, like blood. She heard someone knocking on the door downstairs, and then a new voice joined the others. Arthur Fox. Oh God, more people in the house. She knew they were all trying to be supportive, trying to ease her pain, but their efforts only irritated her. Their sideways, pitying looks. Their repeated attempts to feed her, ply her with repetitive cups of tea. She didn’t want tea; she wanted her daughter. She wanted to smell Zoe’s hair, hear her laugh, feel that silky cheek against hers.

“Horrible business,” she heard Arthur say downstairs, before his voice dropped back to a murmur. Arthur had assumed command over the situation, as if it was his usual place in any pyramid. He’d called friends he knew in the Maine State Police and asked about Jo Thibodeau and whether she was up to the task. He’d inquired about access to tracker dogs. Dogs trained to find the living, not the dead, he’d assured her, although she knew dogs were used for both purposes. No one had mentioned cadaver dogs, not to Susan. They wouldn’t dare.

She thought about their first night here at Moonview, how Zoe had come out of the shower with her skin flushed and sweet smelling and had curled up beside Susan in bed. A good night cuddle, the kind they used to have when Zoe was eight years old and they were still raw with grief over Matthew’s death. That first day here, with the Conover family and their neighbors, had felt overwhelming, and both Susan and Zoe wanted the quiet comfort of a familiar embrace. Now, sitting on the bed and hugging only herself, she could still feel Zoe in her arms.

You must be alive. I’d feel it if you weren’t. Wouldn’t I?

There was a soft rap on the door. She looked up to see Brooke standing in the doorway. “Susan? Is it okay to come in?”

Susan nodded. Sat up straighter.

“I wanted to show you the poster design, to make sure it’s okay with you before we print them. Ethan thinks they look fine, but I thought you should take a look too.” Brooke held out a sheet of paper.

Susan stared at a photo of Zoe smiling from the page.

Missing

Zoe Hellman Conover, age 15, Brown hair, brown eyes, 5 feet, 3 inches, 105 pounds

Last seen June 21 in Purity, Maine

“A reward,” said Susan. “There should be a reward.”

“That’s what Kit thinks, too, but Elizabeth says any decent person would respond, reward or not. And Colin said we’d then have to decide how big a reward, and it would all just delay getting these printed.”

Of course Colin the money manwouldbe the one to focus on numbers and logistics. Her brother-in-law was all about efficiency.

“We think we should print maybe fifty to start,” said Brooke. “We’ll fan out tomorrow and post them all over town.”

“And up and down the coast too?”

“Of course.” Brooke sighed. “I wish there was something more I could do, besides putting up posters. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if Kitwent missing. How I’d be able to cope.” She sat down on the bed next to Susan. “God, it all seems pointless now. This stupid ceremony.”

“What?”

“George’s memorial service. It’s still set for Thursday, as if it matters. But all these people are planning to come, and Elizabeth says it’s too late to call it off.”

Susan had completely forgotten about her father-in-law’s memorial service. That was the reason they’d all come to Maine in the first place, to honor George Conover’s wish to have his ashes scattered here. If not for George, they’d be safely home in Boston.It’s his fault this has happened,she thought, although she knew it was unreasonable to blame a dead man.

“You don’t have to go to the service,” said Brooke. “We’d understand if you choose not to.”

“I can’t go. I need to stay here, in case the police ...”

“Of course. Do you want me to stay here with you?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Because I wouldn’t mind, not at all. I’m not really that keen to go anyway. I mean, I liked George well enough. He was always kind to me, but he was a hard man to really get close to. Twenty years in this family, and I’mstilltrying to figure them out.” She gave Susan’s hand a sympathetic squeeze. “I’m sorry we haven’t had the chance to spend much time together, with you and Ethan in Boston and our family in Manhattan. I was hoping these two weeks would be that chance. And Colin was really looking forward to spending time with Ethan. But now ...” Brooke sighed.

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