Wolfhunter River (Stillhouse Lake #3)(64)

“Mom?” Lanny’s watching me. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” I tell her.

That’s when my phone rings. It’s Connor.

And he tells me Sam’s under arrest.





11

SAM

The manager of the lodge tells us the best path to follow for a safe, unchallenging hike—one that’ll last a couple of hours at most and bring us back in a loop. Connor doesn’t seem that interested at first, though he’s happy to be tagging along. But the quiet of the forest turns out to be just what he needs, and it eases some of the vibrating tension inside me too. Something about the green, fresh smell of the air, the flickering shade, the sound of birds singing. Makes you forget all the bullshit for a while. Even if it’s bullshit of your own making.

We walk up the trail a bit, and I stop to point out an almost-invisible snake—nonpoisonous, so I let him get closer than I would have otherwise. The snake flees without any show of anger, and we keep going.

“That was cool,” Connor says.

“It was.”

“I’d like to have a pet snake. That’d be interesting.”

“Sure,” I say. “You know you have to feed him what he’d eat out here, right? Bugs, mice, things like that.”

“I could catch them around the lake,” he says. “It’d be okay.”

I try to guess how Gwen would feel about that and fail. Though odds are, if Connor really is interested, she’d be 100 percent behind that enthusiasm, even if it means having live mice in the house.

Lanny might not be quite as accepting. I don’t enjoy thinking about the epic battles, or the inevitable Save the Mice campaign.

While I’m thinking about that, though, Connor says, “Can I ask you a real question? For real?”

“How do you ask a fake question?”

He gives me a look that tells me he isn’t amused. And he’s serious. “Are you and Mom staying together or not?”

“Wow.”

“Will you tell me?”

“Buddy, I would if I had a good answer for it.”

“Don’t say It’s complicated. It’s not. You either love her or you don’t. And if you don’t, you shouldn’t make her think you do.”

I think about that. We walk on in silence for a while. Connor silently points out a frog by the side of the trail, watching us with unblinking eyes. It hops off into leaf litter as we pass.

“Okay,” I finally tell him, “it’s not complicated. But it is hard. You get why, right?”

“Because of your sister,” he says. “Yeah.”

“And because she can’t forget it. Neither can I. So . . . long term, will we be together? I hope we will. But I can’t make you that promise.” Especially now. Especially with Miranda and all that ugly, stained past coming back like a sewage flood to sweep us away.

“Well, you should promise,” he says. “Because then you’ll stay no matter what. You don’t break your promises.”

I feel a fist close around my heart and squeeze. “I want to,” I tell him. “And it’d be a real easy thing to do, because I love your mom, and I love you and your sister.”

“But you won’t promise,” he says, and kicks a rock.

“Not yet,” I say. “Ask me again at the end of the week.”

He gives me an odd look. Wary. “Why? What happens at the end of the week?”

“That’s just it,” I say. “Hell if I know. That’s the point.”

He gives me a little shove. I give it back. I get a rare, clear laugh from him. “You’re kind of dumb, did you know that?” he says.

“Only kind of?” I make a snap decision. “Come on. Follow me.”

“But—” He points straight ahead as I veer off. “The trail’s that way.”

“Yep,” I say. “Come on. Let’s get lost for a while.”

We go for about fifteen minutes, and then Connor spots a deer. He starts to speak, and I put a finger to my lips and slowly sink into a crouch behind the brush. He follows suit, carefully mirroring me. I stay very still as the deer comes closer. Closer. I wonder if anyone’s ever taken this kid hunting; it was something that bonded me and my adoptive father closely in my teen years. Then I think again about whether or not that would be a good idea, given the inevitable associations with his dad’s murders. And the way he killed.

This kid’s already had enough death in his life.

We sit crouched in the brush and watch the deer as it crops plants and scrapes at the ground for more. She’s a pretty doe, and we just appreciate her for a while. When she wanders off, we stand up, and I realize that there’s a new path, barely used, going in a different direction. It’s not an officially marked trail, more likely a game trail.

“Can we?” Connor asks, and points to it.

“Sure,” I say. “And if we get lost, what are you going to do?”

He pulls a compass from his pocket. It’s attached to a small key chain with a carabiner on it, and he clips the carabiner onto his belt loop. “Go southeast,” he says.

“Why?”

“Is this a test?”

“Yeah. So?”