Page 76 of The Souls of Lost Lake
“Au revoir,” Patty whispered, and then there was silence.
None of them moved. Gary lay against Patty, his eyes closed, tears staining his cheeks. Eddie mirrored his father.
Wren felt an ache spread through every crevice of her spirit. An ache that held hands with an inexplicable peace.
Patty had gone Home.
31
Ava
She’d heard Noah return to the parsonage late last night. She’d heard him sigh too. And it didn’t help this morning when they met at the breakfast table with each of them avoiding the other’s eyes. Noah looked downright guiltier than a man who’d spent the night gambling away his life savings, only Ava was sure the guilt had nothing to do with that. It was the fact that she was there. Sitting at the table, eating a piece of toast and fried egg with the same combination on a plate for him. Like an old married couple. But they weren’t married. There was the problem—leastways how Noah saw it.
The truth was, Ava had thought less of their unmarried predicament than she had of the predicament of Jipsy’s body and Matthew Hubbard’s death. In light of that, the parsonage pairing of the two of them seemed trivial at best. Either way, it did make for awkward eye contact in the morning, and Hanny hadn’t bustled in with some excuse to make the situation any less awkward.
“You find out anythin’?” Ava had finally broached the subject of Jipsy and the police.
“Just that Weber still has folks around town antsy, hoping you don’t show back up. There’s talk you’ve escaped justice and are already miles away from here.” Noah lifted his eyes for a brief second as he took a sip of coffee. “Others think you’re hiding out, waiting to get your next victim.”
The idea was ironic. It also didn’t help nothing. She was stuck here at the parsonage, in hiding. Noah was stuck having her here in hiding. He was bearing the brunt of her life on his shoulders. It just wasn’t fair. And that he was carryin’ it without complaint? Wasn’t right. Just wasn’t.
The more she sat, the more she dwelt on Jipsy’s death, on Matthew Hubbard’s death, and the more she knew she could not leave it all to rest on Noah’s shoulders. After Noah had withdrawn to the church to work on pastoral things, Ava made quick work of preparing. Her overalls were dry, but they were soiled and in sore need of washing. She kept on her navy-blue dress she’d worn to breakfast, tied her hair back with a ribbon, and slipped her feet into her shoes. They were still wet. She opted for bare feet, and within minutes she’d snuck from the parsonage.
Ava dodged the main street, slinking behind the buildings in the shaded alleyways. Now, a noise sent Ava sprawling against the brick wall of the general store. No one should be back here, but then that didn’t account for the fact that sometimes they stored goods on the back dock. But a quick survey assured Ava the doors to the dock were closed, and there wasn’t anyone around Ava could see. She just needed to get to the station—to the police.
Maybe it was suicide of a sort that didn’t take her life but took her hopes of a future. Still, she needed to get Noah off the hook. He was bait just dangling, and some big-toothed fish was going to bite. Noah would be eaten alive, and it wouldn’t save her any more than if he was completely out of the picture. Ava figured if she could get to the station without being seen by the people of Tempter’s Creek, she could bank on the slim hope that Officer Larson would listen to her. Give her some benefit of the doubt. He had, after all, put up a fight for her the first night the town had grouped together after Matthew had died. He could find a different solution for protecting her until this was all sorted. Or, if he wanted, he could just throw her in jail. Either way.
Ava stilled and leaned against the back wall of the general store.She wasn’t a silly girl. She knew she was beginning to carry a torch for the preacher. Fact was, it worried her. That she cared about anyone at all.
“Where’n heck have you been?” The voice behind her whispered loudly, and Ava bit back a shriek, ducking down by the corner of the store behind a sumac bush. She leveled wide eyes at the person who had spotted her. Ava’s shoulders lowered. She blew out a breath of relief.
“Ned.”
His hair seemed grayer on the sides since the last time she’d seen him ... what was it, just a week ago? Time was going too slow, and this mess was like a slow-spreading barrel of spilled maple syrup.
The lean, older man looked in all directions before squatting down next to Ava, pushing a sumac branch from his face. “Town’s gonna be right mad if they see you lurkin’ in the shrubs!” he stated.
Ava did her own quick surveyal of the area. “Don’t I know it!”
“Where’ve you been?” Ned batted the branch again as it sprang back and scratched his cheek.
“Don’t matter.” Ava trusted Ned, but she had no intention of incriminating Noah to anyone. “I need to talk to Officer Larson.”
“Whatever for?” Ned reared back. “He’d be the one to arrest you!”
“I know, but he also said there wasn’t proof I did anything to Hubbard, and it’s gotta be the same with Jipsy.”
Ned grimaced. “Jipsy. Who’da thought!”
“I bet Widower Frisk is fit to be tied.” Ava could only imagine the old man. He’d either be moanin’ in his liquor or fuming at the world.
“He’s a wrong number any way you spin it. Jipsy coulda done better than him.” Ned affirmed. “But he swears up and down he’d never have hurt her—he ever lift a hand to Jipsy when you were there?”
Ava shot Ned a quick look. “No.” No, Widower Frisk had only been rough with her. Jipsy had stood between them, and WidowerFrisk never crossed Jipsy. She had some sort of magic hold on the man. He worshiped her as much as he still had a wandering eye.
Ned scooted closer to her. Ava could smell cigarette on his clothes. He whispered conspiratorially, “I was thinkin’—if Jipsy is dead, it might be Mrs. Sanderson’s fault.”
Ava swiped at a black fly that landed on her neck. “Mrs. Sanderson? Why on earth would she have any reason to off Jipsy?”
