“Y’all come on up here, have a seat on the veranda. You’re going to have a glass of tea and some of my pound cake.”

“You don’t have to trouble,” Darby began, then switched gears. “Did you say ‘pound cake’?”

“My mama’s secret recipe. All y’all sit, take a load off. This rain isn’t supposed to last.”

“It’s a fine place to watch a storm rolling,” Ralph said. “Sure do appreciate it.”

“Saves my Bill from eating more cake than he should.”

“Can I give you a hand, Miz Marsh?” Hallie scraped off her shoes on the mat.

“You sure can. And how’s your mama, your grandmama?” Patsy asked as they went inside.

Darby dropped down on the glider because Ralph had it right. It was a fine place to watch a storm. It whipped the trees, stirred up the water of the lake that went bright with the first slash of lightning.

And with it, the air blissfully cooled.

As Ralph took a padded chair, Darby patted the space beside her for Roy. “Doing okay?”

“Yeah.” Still, he let out a long breath with his eyes on the lake. “Can’t help but think about it. I sure wish they’d catch who did it.”

“Tell you what I think.” Ralph hunched forward in his chair. “I think Clint got one of his asshole friends, might be his own brother, to go on up and cause trouble at Zane’s place. Drunk and stupid, argued about something. One asshole picks up a rock, smacks the other. Doesn’t mean to kill him, but that deed’s done, so he does the rest to cover. And what else? Whoever did it was likely stupid enough to think the cops’d figure Clint fell in and drowned.”

Darby said nothing for a moment. She calculated Ralph had used more words in a single minute than he normally did in a full week.

“That’s what Adele thinks,” Roy put in, “like it was more accident than deliberate. Drunk and stupid.”

Because although she didn’t agree, the idea seemed to comfort Roy, Darby said nothing.

“So, you know, anyway…” Roy let out another long breath and the patter of rain turned into buckets, beating the roof of the veranda like war drums. “I’m engaged.”

“You—” Darby punched his arm. “When?”

“Asked her last night.”

“And you wait all damn day to tell us?”

“Still getting used to it myself.” But it drew a quick head-duck grin out of him. “I didn’t want to ask till I had a ring. What I see is women can be pretty particular about there being a ring, and I didn’t have time to get one. Then yesterday, after … everything, I thought how life’s pretty damn unpredictable, and I had to make a move. So I went out and bought a ring. She seems to like it just fine, so I guess I did okay. I asked her, and she said yes.”

“What’s this I hear?” Patsy, carrying a fat pitcher full of amber liquid, stepped out with Hallie right behind her with a tray. “Roy Dawson, am I hearing you finally had the good sense to ask that nice girl to marry you?”

“Yes, ma’am, I did.”

“Isn’t that fine news?” She set down the pitcher, began to pour tea into the glasses on Hallie’s tray. “I bet your mama’s just tickled.”

“She sure is.”

“You set a date?”

“Well, Adele wants spring, when it’s warm enough to do it outdoors. She and my mama and her mama are already diving into it, so I’m just going along. I might miss a few days,” he said to Darby, “with the wedding and a honeymoon.”

“You don’t worry about that one bit.”

“First slice to the groom,” Patsy declared, and passed Roy a dessert plate with a generous wedge of pound cake. “This is fine and happy news, just what we need.”

A little teary-eyed, she passed out cake. “These young ones, Ralph, they don’t know yet how fast it all goes, how you have to grab onto all the pieces, good and bad, to make the pictures you want to leave behind.”

“Gotta take the storm with the sunshine, my own mama used to say.”

“Isn’t that the truth? I like a good storm,” she said quietly. “It washes away the heat and the hard, at least for a little while.”

And, Darby thought, wouldn’t part of the hard be stepping out on her really pretty veranda, looking out at the lake she loved, and remembering the body pulled out of it?

As if she’d heard the thought, Patsy turned, smiled brilliantly. “What you’re doing to what was an eyesore and a frustration to me down that slope is the best thing since my mama’s pound cake.”

“And it’s real good cake, ma’am.” Gabe shoveled in the last bite. “Real good.”

“Storm’s passing,” Hallie said. “I’ll take these dishes in for you before we go back to work.”

“Don’t you fuss with that, honey. I believe I’m going to sit out here, enjoy the cool a bit, and watch y’all work.”

Darby thought about storms, and grabbing all the pieces, about the simple kindness of offering cake as she dug the next hole. The sun broke free, burned bright on the water, and turned the storm-damp air to steam.

Boats came back to glide, and kids leaped into the lake from a raft, filled the world with laughter and squeals.

Death didn’t stop life, not for long.

It was life she thought of as she planted a trio of toothwort she’d chosen almost as much for its name—southern lady—as its foliage and flowers.

It would bloom early, she thought, start showing its stuff in the winter like a hellebore, then shoot up those sweet flowers at the first whisper of spring.

“Something on your mind, boss?” Hallie wondered.

“Just thinking it’s late in the season now, but what a show this will make next year.”

“It’s pretty now, too.”

“Yeah, it is, and we’re going to be done here today. But next spring, and the summer that follows, and right into the fall. My oh my, what a job we’ll have done.”

She stepped back to check her positioning and, pleased, pulled out her phone to take a couple of shots. Walking down to the river rock Ralph and Roy had spread, she took some from a different angle before glancing out to imagine how it looked from the water.

She saw a little Sunfish sliding by, a lone man guiding it. Long, sunbaked hair spilled out of his fisherman’s hat; the sun boomeranged off his mirrored sunglasses.

When he raised a hand in a kind of saluting wave, she felt a quick chill slice through the damp heat. But she lifted a hand in return before turning away.

“Well, gang.” Odd, her throat felt tight. She unhooked her water bottle, soothed it. “We’re about down to cleanup. Let’s knock her out.”

She caught herself glancing back, but the little Sunfish had sailed on.

Laughter had the man going as Bingley nearly capsized.

Looked right at him and waved! If he’d had his Glock, he could have shot her where she stood—and all the rest of them with her.

Maybe a couple of those idiot teenagers as well, screaming as they jumped off that stupid raft just to cap it off.

Maybe shooting her in the head wasn’t his plan, but he just loved knowing he could have.

Time’s coming, bitch, he thought, with the great good humor of the moment. Time’s coming for you and the asshole lawyer.

And anybody who got in the way.

If he’d learned anything since going in, coming out of prison, it was he had a strong appetite for blood.

The spilling of it.

* * *

July moved on with its heat and quick, hard storms. Tourists flocked to Lakeview for their lakeside and hiking holidays. The summer people streamed in and out with murder barely making a ripple on their souvenir shopping.

Primer covered the ugly on Zane’s building, so people streamed by it as well, and the bold new color began to make its statement.

While he waited for the other shoe to drop, knowing it would, Zane went on with his life.

It didn’t surprise him to see Lee driving up on a lazy Saturday morning while he sat on his front veranda researching SUVs on his tablet.

He set the tablet aside as Lee got out of the car.

“Morning, Chief.”

“Zane.” His glance rose up to the boarded doors. “No doors yet?”

“Coming in next week, and my trusty painters are going to finish up at the office, fix the damn bullet holes in the bedroom here. Want something cold?”

Lee looked at Zane’s tall glass. “Is that iced coffee?”

“It is. Come on in. I’ll get you one.”

“I won’t say no. Darby around?”

“She had a couple consults this morning. She should be back before too long if you want to talk to her.”

“Girl keeps busy,” Lee commented as Zane led the way inside.

“She does. May be why she sleeps like the dead. So, are you on duty, Chief?”

“Summertime’s usually all hands on deck. This one especially.”

“Yeah.” Zane got another tall glass, filled it with ice. “How’s that going?”

“What we got is a victim nobody but his family and a few reprobates liked, drunk, pumped up with pills, out on a vendetta who ends up with his skull caved in on your property before he’s dumped, already dead, into the lake.”

After picking up the pitcher of room-temperature coffee he’d already brewed, Zane glanced over. “Do I need a lawyer?”

“It’d make my job easier if you did.”

Zane poured coffee over ice, added milk from the fridge, handed it over. “If I’d gone out there, I might’ve seen something, someone.”