And with all that calm, that lazy summer easy, Zane brought the strange.

She interrupted a few times, for clarification, to question.

When he’d finished, they’d circled to the front of the house and took seats on the veranda, watched that sliver of moon swim on the lake.

“I’d say that’s a boy with good instincts,” Darby concluded. “Be cause there’s a lot there that doesn’t add up. A single book? No way given what he claims to do for a living, what he says he’s come here to do. But maybe Brody just missed the e-reader.”

“Possible,” Zane agreed.

“Or he could read on his laptop, but it’s hard to believe a college English professor has one lonely paperback for an extended stay.”

“Agreed.”

“It’s also possible he’s just a jerk about recycling and got a good deal on a rental Prius. You can always work things around to another angle, right?”

“You not only can,” Zane said, “but some of us make our living doing just that.”

“Still … You’re an English professor, so you’ve spent a good chunk of your life studying and teaching literature. You couldn’t possibly blank on John Steinbeck. Popular fiction? Maybe he’s a book snob, but why not just ask, Who’s Virgil Flowers?

“And when you put it all together,” Darby concluded, “it feels off. What’s your next move?”

“It turns out Gretchen ran into him on the street. In my clever, lawyerly way, I got a name. Or names. She thinks Blake, Drake, or Deke Bingley. So since I don’t know where up north, or what university or college he claims to be a part of, I start with that.”

“That’ll take the rest of your life. Hold on.”

She got out her phone, held up a finger before he could object. “Hey, Emily, sorry. I forgot with Zane going ten rounds I was going to send a couple of the crew to do a little maintenance on the bungalows. I thought we’d start with five, then spread out from there. Is anyone in five?”

Darby made uh-huh noises. “We’ll make sure we start midmorning then. Unless he’s checking out soon. No? Oh really. Another Yankee? Where’s he from?”

She sent Zane a smug smile. “New York City. Well, we’ll make sure we don’t disturb him. Yeah, I’ll make sure he ices down again before we go to bed. I can do that, sure. See you tomorrow then.”

She clicked off. “She called him Mr. Bingley, and it would’ve seemed weird if I’d asked for a first name. But she said he was working on a novel, and came from New York City.”

“That’s helpful. You’re good at that.”

“I’m going to have to send crew over there—and I’m going to have to go by reception and show her again what are actual weeds in the rock garden—but it’s part of the service.”

She got to her feet, held out a hand. “Come on, let’s get you another round of ice and you can get started. And I can get to my really delayed shower before I take care of some paperwork.”

He needed a shower, too, but unfortunately not a fun one.

By the time he’d finished, and Darby used another spare bedroom to deal with her paperwork, he was more than ready for the ice, more ibuprofen. And the option to work in bed on his laptop.

She glanced in an hour later—no doubt, he thought, checking on him.

“How’s it going?”

“Slow.” He raked a hand through his hair. “There are well over a hundred colleges and universities in New York.”

“You had to figure.”

“Even eliminating specialties—dance, medicine, fashion, law, like that—there’s a lot. And also considering he may have inflated the ‘professor,’ it’s best to check all the staff. So far, I haven’t come up with Blake, Drake, or Deke Bingley listed. But I’ve got plenty more to check.”

Because he could feel himself stiffening, he got up—and boy he felt that—tried to walk and stretch it out. “It’d go a hell of a lot faster if I had an investigator on this, even a law clerk.”

“I don’t qualify for either of those, but I can take some. I’m caught up. And I’m invested. I kind of want to prove the kid right. Which is weird.”

“It is weird. Weirder because so do I. But you’ll be getting up in … six and a half hours.”

“I’m getting up then anyway. Half an hour. Same for you, Walker.” She smoothed a hand over the hair he’d disordered. “You’re more worn-out than you think.”

“I think I’m pretty worn-out,” he admitted. “Half an hour.”

At the end of thirty, it was Darby who called it because he really did look beat. And Zane who volunteered to let the dog out one last time because he needed to move.

When he got back, and Zod took his latest sock to bed, she was already out for the count.

Zane got in beside her, breathed out against the aches and twinges. Then took her hand, pressed it to his cheek.

“Don’t make me wait too long to take that filter off, darlin’.”

* * *

While Zane fell into a fitful sleep, the man who went by Bingley sipped his single malt, paced the cabin.

He didn’t like the way that brat had looked at him. It had nagged at him all day, enough that he’d driven past where he knew the little fucker lived, hoping to catch him outside.

Lure him over to the car, take care of him.

But he hadn’t seen him—which, he admitted now, had been for the best.

Another body in the lake? Wouldn’t be good. Even adding on a missing kid? Too much attention.

He’d already stayed longer than he should have, he saw that now. He’d let the pleasure of building up to that ultimate goal keep him in this hick town. Not even in the hick town, for God’s sake.

He was living in the freaking woods.

Done with it, he thought. Checkout time.

Once he’d done what he’d come to do, he’d get in that ridiculous tree-hugger car and be hundreds of miles away before anybody knew the difference.

Dump the car in long-term parking at the airport, where he’d parked his real car. Wait until dark, slip on home, cut the hair, shave the beard.

Over and done.

But now, he had work to do. He wanted to wipe down every inch of the bungalow, just in case.

After that, he’d wear gloves.

* * *

Darby woke at six sharp, slid out of bed to, as per habit, dress in the bathroom so Zane could sleep.

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled. “I’m awake.”

“Hurting?”

“It’s always worse the next day.” He felt her hand brush over his hair as he eased up—ouch—to turn on the light.

“Ice and Advil. I’ll get it.”

“It’s all right. I need to move anyway.”

“Go slow. I’ll get you started with it.”

She trotted out—he no longer felt surprise at her ease of walking around the house naked—and he lowered his feet to the floor.

“Had worse. Lots worse.” Stood, breathed out. “But I was younger.”

He sat again.

As he did, he considered asking for a continuance, weighed the pros and cons of going into court with a black eye. A distraction … maybe some sympathy from the judge.

Maybe, maybe not.

“Don’t be a wuss. You can handle the drive into Asheville, an hour in court,” he told himself.

Before he stood again, Darby came back with the ice and Advil, studied him. “Looks worse the second day, too.”

“Thanks for that.”

“You’re going to see for yourself soon anyway.” She laid the ice bag on the left side of his face, then offered the pills and water.

“I got a really hot nurse out of it.”

“The hottest. Look, I can call Roy, have him get the crew started, give you some more TLC.”

“Just need to get moving.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Off and on. During one of the offs I did another chunk from the New York list, so at least something productive. Still no Bingley.”

“Brody’s going to be right. I feel it in my bones.”

“Maybe. Meanwhile during my on and off, I had another thought. He drives a car, so he’s got to have a driver’s license. I’ve got a pal or two on the force in Raleigh. Since I can’t ask Lee, I can ask one of them to run him.”

“Is that legal?”

“Eh…” He wiggled a hand in the air. “First, I’ll just pay the fee, look him up—all three names—on a criminal search, which is absolutely legal.”

“I’m going to get dressed, help you downstairs, make us some coffee. What does he look like?” she asked as she pulled out cargo shorts.

“From Brody’s description, sort of blondish hair, long, a little beard, glasses. Around my age—he thinks—not as tall, thinner.”

She paused as she pulled on a sports bra. “You know, I saw somebody who looked sort of like that out on the lake on a Sunfish the other day. And for some reason, he gave me the creeps.”

Zane’s eyes narrowed. “Did he do anything?”

“No, no.” She dragged on a T-shirt. “I didn’t get a good look anyway. He was just sailing by while we were finishing up at the Marshes’. He sort of waved, that’s all. But I got creeped. Maybe I should take the morning off, help you finish with this.”

“I’ve got it. But I could use that coffee. I’m okay here, darlin’. I don’t have to be in court until nine, so I’m just going to pull on some pants and I’ll be down.”