Glass shattered behind the bar. Kevin came up out of his seat to find Eddie crouched over a broken mug. “You okay?” he asked.

Eddie waved him off. It was then Kevin noticed Sheila had walked inside with Nick, the drummer from one of the local bands. Heil must’ve hired them to play for the night.

“Hey, Kevin,” Sheila said, and kissed his cheek. She leaned over the bar. “Hey,” she said to Eddie, and reached for him. Eddie looked so damned happy, Kevin almost felt sorry for him, because he knew how Eddie felt. He knew how loving a woman could make you so happy one minute and then miserable the next.

The band carried in their equipment and began the process of setting up for the show. Kevin recognized one of the guys: Tony, the lead singer. He had been playing at the Pavilion for as long as Kevin could remember. In fact, when Kevin was playing guitar regularly, Tony used to let him play a song or two to warm up the crowd on the nights Eddie had worked as bar back.

Tony walked over to him, holding a guitar. He shook Kevin’s hand. “It’s been a long time. Do you still play?” he asked.

“Not much anymore,” Kevin said. He had tried to play in the months after Billy had drowned. He’d pick up a guitar, play a few chords, and end up putting the instrument down. At the time it had felt too hard, and he had wondered if he’d ever be able to play again.

Tonight Tony held out his guitar. “Warm us up,” he said.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on, Kevin. What could it hurt?” Sheila nudged him. “Do it for old time’s sake.”

Maybe it was the alcohol that had loosened him and made him soft, but before he knew how it had happened, he was sitting on a stool on the small stage, tuning the acoustic guitar, warming up his rusty voice. He adjusted the microphone and cleared his throat. Here goes nothing.

He started to sing, and the music moved through him as it had in the past, the rhythm familiar and comforting. He moved back in time, swept further away with every pluck of the strings. The crowd, if you could call it a crowd, hushed and turned to listen. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the lyrics, singing an old Goo Goo Dolls song, “Iris,” the one song that reminded him of Jo.

She had since returned to the bar, sitting on the same stool she had sat on all day. He didn’t have to look to know she was watching, listening. Her eyes burned through him. He kept singing, his fingers remembering every chord. The guitar felt good in his hands.

When he finished, the meager crowd clapped. Tony slapped him on the shoulder. “Beautiful,” he said.

Kevin put the guitar in the stand. The music had opened a place inside of him he had locked away a long time ago. He felt vulnerable and exposed, but more than that, he felt a raw need, a yearning so strong, it made his heart ache. He crossed the room to where Jo was sitting. Sheila was sitting next to her. He lifted Jo’s chin and kissed her full on the mouth, needing her now more than ever.

She pushed him hard in the chest. He stumbled backward, confused at first, thinking his actions must’ve taken her by surprise. But then he realized she was looking around to see if anyone had noticed he had kissed her. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as though she couldn’t stand to have any part of him touch her.

“Goddammit, Jo.” He turned and strode for the door.

He didn’t make it halfway down the stairs when he heard her call his name. He kept walking, lengthening his stride. The night air was cool on his back. His hands were fisted by his sides. Even now she continued to make him feel the fool.

“Kevin, wait.” She chased after him, catching up to him a third of the way across the parking lot. She grabbed his arm and spun him around. “Stop,” she said. “Please.”

“Why, Jo? Why should I bother?”

Her face was flushed, and she had that crease between her eyebrows she got whenever she was angry. But there was something else in her eyes, a flame he recognized.

“Who are you afraid is going to see us together?” He glanced at the lake. A spotlight from a lone fishing boat drifted across the water, the beam reaching as far as the parking lot, the light crossing them at the knees. It was as though he was reliving the nightmare for the second time. Back then he had to stay away from her to protect her, to protect their secret. But things were different now. The little girl drowning had nothing to do with them, and yet it had everything to do with them. If it weren’t for the girl, they never would’ve found those bones. He grabbed Jo’s arms and pulled her to him.

“Billy’s dead, Jo,” he said. “And you’re my wife. My wife.” He couldn’t help himself; he kissed her again, hard, smashing her nose and scraping her teeth with his.

She struggled, twisting her shoulders, trying to free her arms. The more she fought, the more aroused he became. He pulled her closer, her breasts pressed against his chest. He forced his leg between her thighs. She bit his lip.

The sudden pain made him loosen his grip. She punched his chest with her fists and shoved and pushed him until their bodies separated. They both were breathing hard, staring at each other.

“Asshole.” She lunged at him, knocking him in the shoulder.

He didn’t fight back. They had been here before. They had played this game before. Instead he brought his hand to his bottom lip, his fingers coming away bloody.

By the time he looked up again, she was on him. She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him as hungrily as he had kissed her. He grasped the back of her neck and placed his hand on her low back, crushing her to him. She reached between his legs.

“Oh God,” he moaned.

They stumbled to the edge of the parking lot, kissing and fumbling with their clothes. To hell if anyone was watching. He wanted someone to see him have her. He lifted her up and pinned her against the thick trunk of an old maple tree. He clutched a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, kissing and biting her throat. She wrapped her legs around his waist, opening herself wide for him. He pushed deep inside of her, letting her take him to a place only she could take him.

They clung to each other, their bodies slick and warm. His legs felt weak with exhaustion. She sobbed against his chest. He was spent, used, wondering how their love brought out the best and worst in him, how something so sweet could taste like poison.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Caroline looked over her shoulder not once but continuously. The light of the moon cut through the trees, distorting the shadows of branches on the ground. The lake water looked as dark as pitch, like a sharp, shimmering black hole. She had never been out this late at night, and as if she wasn’t paranoid enough, even the Pavilion looked ominous, old and abandoned.

She wound her way to the water’s edge, creeping past lakefront cabins, pausing to listen for any sounds. The horse and the legend lurked in the corners of her mind, making the hairs on the back of her neck bristle. She reached Adam’s place and slipped around back, stopping in front of his bedroom window. She tried not to think about what would happen if she got caught and tapped on the glass.

“Adam,” she whispered. Tap. Tap. Tap. “Wake up.” She strained to listen for any sounds coming from inside. Nothing. “Adam,” she said a little louder. Tap. Tap. Tap. A rustling came from in the room. The curtains parted, and Adam pressed his nose against the glass, trying to see outside. She stood back a few inches and waved.

“Caroline? Is that you?”

“Yeah, open up.”

He pushed the window up. She could just make out his big ears.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Get dressed. I need your help,” she whispered. “And be quiet.”

He didn’t ask for an explanation. She knew he wouldn’t. Adam might be only ten years old, but she knew how to spot a team player when she saw one. He’d help her without question. He’d want to help Sara. Caroline learned in the last few days that Megan was a different sort of friend, although which kind of friend Caroline couldn’t say.