Dee Dee snorted. “It never made sense to me, either. Kevin said he was the last one to see Billy. That he had left him alone on the beach, thinking he was going home too. But I think Kevin is covering up for somebody. I think Jo was on the beach with Billy and she was the last one to see him alive. I think she has something to do with him drowning.”

Patricia shook her head. “I don’t think Jo would’ve hurt Billy. She loved him.”

“Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t. I don’t know and I don’t care. But what I do know is that she’s hiding something. She knows more about that night than she’s saying.”

“Was there an investigation?”

“They ruled it an accidental drowning even though he cracked his skull. And after lying on the bottom of the lake for five days, his body was torn apart by the snappers. They couldn’t find any evidence to prove otherwise.” Until they found the bones from his forearm, but again, it wasn’t the right time to share this information.

Patricia suddenly looked horrified.

Dee Dee realized the insensitivity of her comment, forgetting Patricia’s daughter hadn’t been found, and it was coming up on six days. “Pattie,” she said, and stopped. It was the harsh truth, and she wouldn’t apologize for it. Patricia needed to hear it, not only about Billy, but what to expect if there was anything left of her daughter to find. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell her that, and neither of them spoke for some time.

Patricia was the first to break the silence. “When did he drown?” she asked.

“You don’t know?”

“I only heard about it yesterday.”

“Jesus,” Dee Dee said, thinking after all this time. “July 1997,” she said.

She looked surprised. “But I was here that summer. How could I not have known about it?”

“It happened the same night your parents dragged you out of here. I was babysitting, and they stormed into the cabin, fighting. You left that morning, and I never heard from you again.”

“I remember,” she said. “It was awful. My parents fought so often that summer.” She covered her mouth and appeared to be thinking. After a few moments of silence she said, “And he drowned that same night?”

“Yes,” Dee Dee said.

Patricia disappeared inside her own thoughts once again. She shook her head. “No,” she said. “That’s not right. They weren’t on the beach.”

“What are you talking about?” Dee Dee clasped Patricia’s hand.

Patricia held on tight. “They’re lying.”

She looked into Patricia’s eyes. “What are you saying? Who is lying?”

“They are,” she said. “They weren’t on the beach. They were on the pier.”

“Who was on the pier?”

“I saw them.”

“Who?” Dee Dee asked. “Who did you see?”

“You know how you can see the pier when the moon is bright?” Patricia said.

“Yes.” It was true. You could see the floating pier clearly under the light of a full moon. “Who did you see on the pier that night?”

“Billy. He wasn’t on the beach.”

Dee Dee grabbed Patricia’s arms, wanting to shake her to get the answers out of her quicker. “Was anyone with him?”

Patricia flinched. “You’re hurting me.”

“Sorry,” she said, and patted Patricia’s arms where her hands had been. More gently, she asked, “Was anyone else on the pier with him?”

“Jo.”

“I knew it,” she said. “I knew she was lying.” She stood, knocking the chair over. “That bitch.” She turned toward the counter, not sure what to do with the new information. Jo wasn’t on the beach after all. She was on the pier with Billy, right where his body had been found. “And you’re certain it was Jo?” She had to ask one more time. It’s not like Patricia was of sound state of mind, going through her own personal hell.

“Yes, I’m sure. I was by the lake catching lightning bugs. You remember. You gave me a jar and punched holes in the lid.”

“Yes.” Dee Dee nodded. She remembered. Patricia should’ve been asleep, but it was such a clear beautiful night, she had let her stay up way past her bedtime playing outside, catching bugs. And it was almost dawn by the time Patricia’s parents had burst into the cabin to collect her.

“Kevin was there too,” Patricia said.

Dee Dee whipped around. “What did you say?”

“Kevin. He was there too.”

“That can’t be. He said he was on the beach.”

“No, he was on the pier with them.”

She bent close to Patricia’s face, searching her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Oh yes, I’m positive.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Caroline ran from the kitchen and into her room. She slammed her door and threw herself onto the bed. She pulled the quilt Gram had made over her head. She hadn’t meant what she said to Johnny. She didn’t hate him. It was just the opposite. She loved him and wanted him to continue being her brother. She wanted to take back her words. He was as much a victim of their mother’s lies as Caroline was.

Johnny’s voice bellowed from the kitchen. Caroline threw the covers off to listen. “Is it true?” he asked.

Her mother must’ve nodded because the next thing he said was, “Jesus Christ. And you didn’t think to tell me until now?”

She pulled the quilt over her head again. So it was true. She hadn’t realized a small part of her was still hoping she was wrong. Knowing the truth didn’t make her feel any better. It made her feel worse.

Her bedroom door creaked open.

“Go away,” she said, not even knowing who it was. She didn’t care. She didn’t want to talk to anyone.

The door closed and someone sat on the edge of her bed. She smelled coffee and talcum powder, the two smells she identified with Gram.

“Caroline,” Gram said. “I know you’re hurting. It’s a lot to take in.”

“You think?” she shot back.

“Your mother should’ve told both you and Johnny a long time ago.”

“Yes, she should have.” She pulled the quilt down, uncovering her head, but she couldn’t look at Gram. Instead she looked over Gram’s shoulder at a spot on the wall. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“It wasn’t my place.”

“But I thought you didn’t like Mom. How could you let her lie to me?”

“You think I don’t like your mother?”

“Well, yeah. You two are always fighting. You’re never nice to each other.”

“Oh, Caroline. I love your mother. I may not like the choices she’s made, but I love her.”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

Gram sighed. “A mother-daughter relationship is a complicated thing. We each have our own way of doing things, our own ideas of how things should be, and sometimes we don’t agree on what that thing is. We clash. We may fight. But we love each other anyway. It’s just how it is between your mother and me.” She touched Caroline’s cheek. “It doesn’t mean it has to be that way with you and your mom. You can make it be the way you want.”

“Tell that to her.” She wiped her eyes, refusing to let the tears fall.

“I think you should tell her. Talk to her.”

Caroline picked at a thread that had started to come loose from one of the stitches on the quilt. She was too angry to talk to her mother. She didn’t even want to look at her.

“I don’t hate Johnny,” she said instead. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

“I know you don’t. I’m sure he knows it, too.” Gram paused as though she was considering whether to say anything more. Then she asked, “How did you find out?”

“It’s not rocket science. I did the math.” She stared at the ceiling. “Plus, I found out Billy’s full name. William J. And then I saw a couple pictures of Billy. And then there’s Chris. In ways, Johnny looks like them, their family. I didn’t know for sure. I was only guessing, but it seems I guessed right.”

Gram pressed her lips together and nodded.

“Does Dad know?” she asked, already knowing the answer, but finding she needed confirmation so she wouldn’t question herself later about who knew what and who had lied.