“Well,” she said, feeling the day slipping through her hands, knowing she would now stay and help sort through boxes. Seeing Gram tired, the way she was hunched over on the floor, and the moistness in her eyes when she had paged through the photo album, loosened something inside Jo. The compassion had been absent between them for such a long time, but Jo had a sudden urge to tell Gram she was sorry for all the terrible ways she had disappointed her. The words were there on her tongue, and yet she couldn’t force them out. She never could say what was in her heart. So instead she said, “Where do you want me to start?”

For the next few hours Jo pulled boxes of old records, books, and photo albums from the closet. She crawled underneath the porch and dragged broken beach chairs and torn umbrellas to the trash. All the while Gram did the sorting, keeping more than she had intended. Maybe it wasn’t the right time after all.

Jo tossed the last of a bent plastic chair onto the junk pile in the yard. She was dirty and hot under the glaring sun. She brushed her hands on her shorts and smoothed her tousled hair. What she wouldn’t give to jump into the cool lake water. The thought brought her full circle to Sara and her mother and the bones.

She rushed back into the cabin, letting the screen door slam behind her. “Let’s call it quits,” she said to Gram. She figured she had hauled enough trash for one day, and Gram should rest.

“But we’re not done,” Gram said.

I am, Jo thought, and left to go jump into the shower.

*   *   *

Within minutes Jo slipped into a clean T-shirt and shorts and made her way onto Lake Road, stopping once to remove a pebble from her flip-flop. When she reached the Pavilion, she wasn’t surprised to find the doors wide open. Heil wouldn’t keep his precious money-maker closed for four days, not four whole days.

She walked around the back of the Pavilion to the set of stairs that led to the bar. The parking lot was nearly empty, even though the beach was open. Small clusters of families scattered their chairs and blankets on the sand. Their oily bodies baked in the hot sun, but no one was swimming. How could they even if they had wanted? The lake was filled with two dozen or more fishing boats. She scoured the area for Patricia, Sara’s mother, and searched the water for signs of underwater recovery. Where could they be? Who was running this crazy show? She groaned at the sight of Stimpy directing the chaos.

Kevin stepped off one of the docks. Something about his expression gave her pause. Slowly, she walked toward him.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” he said.

Sheriff Borg leaned against a nearby pillar, drawing their attention.

“What the hell was going on out there?” the sheriff asked Heil, and motioned to the pier where the fishermen were now gathering. “They need to do this in a more organized manner.”

Heil pulled the waistband of his shorts up around his large belly. “And how do you suggest they do that?”

“They need to be less conspicuous,” the sheriff said. “Stick to early mornings or evenings. And make sure those damned fishing boats stay out of the way of the recovery team.”

Eddie stepped out of his cabin in a clean shirt and shorts. Heil called out to him, something about Eddie getting his ass in gear. He wanted the bar opened early. But Eddie didn’t hear him or if he did, he ignored him. Instead he walked over to the pier and stopped to talk with Stimpy and the other men before sauntering over to Kevin and Jo.

“I told you to get that bar open an hour ago,” Heil called to Eddie again.

The sheriff left Heil’s side and headed in their direction.

Kevin grabbed Jo’s hand and squeezed it tightly, pulling her close.

The sheriff stopped in front of them, eying them. “I wonder if you can answer a few questions for me about your friend Billy around the time he went missing,” the sheriff said. “Do any of you know how he might’ve hurt his arm?” He directed his question to all three of them.

“No,” Eddie said. “It’s the first I’m hearing about it. I know it’s been awhile, but I’m pretty sure I was the only one walking around injured.” He showed the sheriff his missing thumb tip. “Snapper got ahold of me around the same time.”

“What about you two?” the sheriff asked.

Jo didn’t like the way he was looking at her.

“Well?” he asked, waiting for one of them to speak up.

The cords in her neck strained. “I don’t remember him being hurt,” she said.

“Why?” Kevin tightened his grip on her hand. “What’s this about?”

“They found a fracture on his ulna, the smaller bone in the lower arm,” the sheriff said. “I’m curious how it might’ve happened.” He directed his next question to Kevin. “As I recall, you were with him that night. Did he fall? Did he get into a fight with someone? Anything at all you can remember, even if you don’t think it’s relevant.”

“No,” Kevin said without hesitation. “Nothing I can think of.”

The sheriff waited a beat or two, perhaps hoping one of them would offer more information in the silence. When no one spoke up, he said to Kevin, “So there wasn’t a fight over anything, say, like a girl?” He looked back at Jo.

“What’s your point?” Kevin asked, digging his nails into the back of Jo’s hand.

“No point. It’s just funny how you ended up with the girl.”

Jo concentrated hard on keeping her face neutral. But Kevin, he shook his head, clearly disgusted. “We got together afterward. Not before.” His voice was strong, convincing.

“I had to ask,” the sheriff said, although it didn’t sound like he believed him. “If any of you think of anything that might help clear up this matter, you be sure to let me know.” He turned to walk away.

“Do you even know if the bones are Billy’s?” Kevin asked, and Jo wished he hadn’t. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold it together. She wanted the sheriff gone.

The sheriff turned back around, taking his time, looking them over. “Nothing’s confirmed. Yet,” he said in a low, cool voice.

*   *   *

Eddie set two bottles of beer on the bar. “Don’t let the sheriff get to you. He’s just being a prick. He’s got a hard-on for Dee Dee, and he’s just making shit up to keep her happy.”

Jo nodded and reached for a beer. She was too shaken to talk, although she didn’t lie to the sheriff when she told him she didn’t know Billy had hurt his arm. But still, she had a sick feeling in her stomach because she knew how he might’ve hurt it.

Kevin kept his eyes on the bottle in front of him. His body was tense. “It doesn’t change anything,” he said.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Kevin sat at the bar the rest of the afternoon into early evening. He lost count of how many bottles of beer he’d had, but by the buzzing in his head and the slight sway of the room, it had been a lot. In the time it took to numb his brain, he convinced himself the fracture in the bone meant nothing. It could’ve happened in any number of ways.

Stimpy and his clowns had gone and come back, their search unsuccessful. They were settling in for the night. They whispered about picking up first thing in the morning. The sole watercraft left on the lake was the underwater recovery team, whittled down to three men, who were also packing it in now that the sun had set.

Jo had gotten off her stool and headed to the bathroom some time ago. She was in there forever or maybe she wasn’t. Time became a fuzzy thing. Earlier, after their run in with Sheriff Borg, she had grown increasingly quiet. She became distant, locked inside that place she went, shutting him out.

He turned to look at the bathroom door again. Maybe he should check on her. It seemed like a hard decision to make at the moment; he was unsure how it would play out. She might be appreciative for his concern or agitated with his smothering. He’d give her another five minutes.