Page 77 of Pro Bono

“Thanks. Not sure if I will, but I might unless things get exciting around here.”

Linda Warren was third in the file as the three women walked along beside the road that circled the lake. They stayed on the shoulder of the road, because there were ruts in the surface that had been filled with gravel, where a hiker’s feet would sink an inch or two and walking became difficult. The best places to walk were the flat stretches where the pine needles that had fallen from the tall trees were thick enough to prevent brush from growing up and presenting an obstacle to progress. She loved walking along the lake. She wondered about Wendy and Mary. They had both been up when Linda hadcome downstairs early in the morning, both staring at their phones in the predawn darkness.

It occurred to Linda that this might be the time of day set aside for communicating with their families. She also wondered if she had accidentally discovered that the two women’s relationship was not what she had assumed. Had they both been up because they had been sleeping in the same place? She turned the idea over in her mind and came to no conclusion. It was none of her business and it didn’t matter to her either way. She’d been enjoying the trip and felt gratitude that they had included her in it. She had traveled alone to a great many destinations, and stayed to live in several of them, but had never gone alone to a place where she was far from a good restaurant, a grocery store, and a hospital.

Wendy and Mary were talking about how the three should spend the afternoon.

Wendy said that taking Paul’s powerboat out would give them a chance to show Linda the entire lake. Mary said that the boat’s twin Mercury motors were loud and so fast that if they hit a floating log or something they could all be killed. Wendy laughed. “If I drive, then we won’t have to worry.”

“It’s not funny,” Mary said. “It’s not some wild product of my imagination. If we hit something at fifty miles an hour it would be like doing it a car, only without seat belts or anything. It happens all the time, especially in lakes. They’re the worst because they look the safest.”

“What’s your alternative?”

“Paul’s got three or four kayaks in the boathouse. I saw them.”

Wendy turned around and walked backward. “What do you think, Linda?”

Linda said, “I would say I’m more in the mood for the kayaks. As exercise, afternoon kayaking goes pretty well with this morning’s hike.It works your arms, your abdomen, and your back, but leaves your tired legs and feet pretty much at rest.”

“All right,” Wendy said. “I’m outvoted. We’ll save the boat for a time when we’re really tired or feel like exploring the far end of the lake.”

They kept walking, and Linda felt happy. While she had been living in Hawaii, she had thought about how great the weather there was, how beautiful the tropical landscape. She had almost forgotten how close to perfect the thinly populated spaces of northern California, Nevada, and Arizona were. Here in the mountains, she kept moving her eyes and turning her head to try to take it all in.

Charlie and Vesper were in the rental car driving toward the spot on the Google map where Linda Warren was staying with her two friends from the club. Vesper said, “I can understand why they chose to come up here for a few days. It’s an ideal spot for three middle-aged women to go and relax. If you want nightlife, you’re close enough to Reno to put on a nice dress and spend some extra time and effort with your hair and makeup and drive there for one evening. The rest of the time, you can wear baggy cargo pants and boots, and live the life of happy ten-year-olds trying to sneak up on the animals and take their picture or something.”

“Yeah, I hope she’s having a good time,” Charlie said. “She kind of had the wind knocked out of her years ago when my father died. She was young. It seemed for a while when she was with Mack Stone—excuse me, Daniel Rickenger—she was happy again. After we found out that he had just been using her to get her money and disappear, a whole part of her personality was gone. It was as though she decided to let herself be old before she really was. Part of it, I think, was that she was so hurtand humiliated. A man she had married had just been leading her on, not feeling anything for her at all. She felt like that was the verdict on her, not him.”

Charlie’s phone buzzed, and he took it out of his pocket and held it out to Vesper. “Here, read this, will you? I’d better keep my eyes on the road, with these curves.”

Vesper said, “It’s a screenshot of a letter that Martha forwarded. It’s got a big letterhead for the State of California. “Dear Mrs. Warren. The State of California has made an electronic transfer to your account at the Bank of America of $3,876,484.36. This sum represents the contents of the bank accounts held by the State Treasury for you, the widow of Daniel Webster Rickenger. It is up to you and your tax advisors to determine any liability that you may incur because of this transfer.”

“Almost four million dollars,” Charlie said. “And that’s just California, and it doesn’t count any money he may have converted from cash to other things, like stocks and bonds or land or whatever.”

“That’s very nice,” Vesper said. “Should I forward it to her?”

“I’d appreciate it,” Charlie said. “It might make her forget we came up here to violate her privacy.”

“Done,” she said.

“Still willing to do my job while I drive?”

“Of course.”

“Then will you please forward the letter to Minkeagan or Copes too?”

“You mean to my kidnappers?”

“Yes,” Charlie said. “Although I like to think of them as helpful older gentlemen rather than semiretired criminals these days. I want them to know that I’m not hiding anything from them.”

“Because they’ll kill you.”

“Probably not, but I do like to keep things cordial and open.”

She laughed and kissed his cheek, and then forwarded the email to their numbers.

Linda shrugged off the straps of her backpack and said, “Can you wait for me a minute? I’m going to sneak off into that thicket up there and pee.”

“Of course,” Rose said. She watched Linda thread her way up the hill and disappear. She said to May, “Now. She’s gone.”

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