Page 43 of The Summer Guests

The clank of the door being unlocked cut off his answer. He went silent as Jo walked into the detention area, keys rattling in her hand. “Sorry, Maggie.” She opened the cell door. “You have to leave.”

“We aren’t finished talking.”

“I’ve bent the rules enough. Alfond’s headed back here, and if he finds you, he’ll have my head on a platter.”

Reluctantly, Maggie rose to her feet. “We’ll stay on this, Luther. My friends and I. Just hang in there.”

Jo walked Maggie out of the cellblock and swung the door shut behind them.

“Well?” said Jo. “Did you get anything out of him?”

“Possibly.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ll get back to you later.”

“Why can’t youevergive me a simple answer?”

“Because answers aren’t always simple, Jo.” Maggie headed to the exit, then stopped. “I do have one more question. It’s about Zoe’s backpack.”

“What about it?”

“You have a list of what it contained, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Were there any feminine hygiene products?”

Jo frowned. “Why are you asking?”

“It’s just something to think about,” said Maggie, and she walked out the door.

Outside, she paused beside her truck, feeling the weight of Luther’s precarious situation as heavily as a physical burden. In the two and a half years she’d known the man, she’d seen his kindness and his courage and his utter devotion to Callie. The Luther she knew—orthoughtshe knew—would never lay a hand on a girl. Or had she lost her sharp edge as she’d grown older? Had retirement made her too trusting and gullible, just another silver-haired mark for hucksters and get-rich schemes?

No. On this, she was certain: Luther Yount did not hurt the girl. Now she had to prove it.

She opened her truck door and was about to slide in when she spotted a familiar figure walking past, on Main Street. Susan Conover moved like a woman on a mission, her gait pressured, her gaze fiercelyfocused on her destination. This was Maggie’s chance to pull the woman aside, to convince her that Luther was not the monster the Conover family believed he was.

Susan walked into the town library.

Maggie followed her.

It might be tiny, but the local library was a source of pride for the town of Purity. The 1920s brick building served as more than just a repository for books; it was also the meeting place for knitting groups and book clubs and children’s story hours, and it hosted evening lectures on topics ranging from rose gardening to astronomy. It was also where tourists and locals alike could count on reliable internet access, and against the back wall was a row of public computers.

That’s where Susan was now sitting, her hands tapping on a keyboard.

Instead of approaching her, Maggie opted to just observe her for a moment, so she picked up a copy ofBirds & Bloomsfrom the magazine rack and settled into a nearby chair. From there, she could look over Susan’s shoulder at the computer screen. Susan wasn’t perusing any of the usual websites that someone from out of town might visit, featuring local restaurants or tourist hot spots. Instead, she was reading a digitized newspaper page, and Maggie could just make out the masthead name at the top: thePurity Weekly. Susan hit print. The linked printer whirred to life, and pages rolled out.

Maggie abandoned her plan to approach her about Luther and instead shifted to surveillance mode. Another page from thePurity Weeklyappeared on Susan’s screen. More pages rolled off the printer. Why was she so intently searching the local newspaper? What was she hoping to find in those old articles?

Abruptly Susan stood up and grabbed the pages from the printer. Maggie ducked behind her birding magazine as Susan walked out. A quick glance at the computer told her Susan had logged out, and the library’s home page was back on the screen.

By the time Maggie emerged from the building, Susan was half a block away and unlocking her car door. Before the woman could slide in behind the wheel, Maggie called out: “Susan?”

Susan turned and frowned at her. Her hair was uncombed, and her blouse was a map of wrinkles. In her haggard face, Maggie saw the ravages of fear and sleepless nights.

“We met a few days ago, at Moonview. My name’s Maggie Bird.”

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