Page 6 of In the Bones
A second noise sounded below.
A bead of dread, cold as river water, slid down Nicole’s back.
The North Country wind was intense. Some of the trees, especially those on the islands, grew crooked and witchy, pressed into submission by the squalls. If Mikko or Eva had left a window open downstairs, that might account for the sound. But the noise she’d just heard was different. The sticky-slow creak of a foot on a stair.
Burglaries weren’t common in the Thousand Islands. The area was just too remote. The few break-ins she’d heard about had been targeted acts of intimidation or revenge.It’s an old house, she told herself. Probably just the bones settling. For the first time, though, she registered the size of the property. The isolation of the homes on the peninsula, which ended at Tibbetts Point Lighthouse and the lake.
“Hello?” She said it tentatively, straining to listen. Hoping to hear Mikko’s chipper voice and an apology for startling her. When her call yielded no reply, Nicole tried again. Construction just ended a few days ago. Could it be a worker down there, a forgotten toolbelt bringing them back?
Nicole closed the window and crept toward the bedroom door. From the doorway at the top of the stairs, she had a clear view of the first-floor hall. No shadows flickered on the light wood flooring. The noises had stopped.It’s nothing, she told herself, letting the affirmation soothe her like a balm as, heart racing, she slowly made her way downstairs.
Through the sliding glass doors of the great room, Nicole could see the clouds had darkened to the color of campfire ash. She checked the dining room. The powder room. The study.
The main floor was empty, all of the doors and windows shut tight.
In the bright-white empty kitchen, she pivoted slowly to take in the space. There was a film of dust on every surface, the fine white particles she knew had come from sheetrock work. Mikko’s contractor had reconfigured the whole first floor to create the open concept living space, though Nicole saw no evidence of incongruent hardwood or inconsistent trim.Terry’s a magician, Stacy said about the guy who’d done the renovation work. She’d referred him to Mikko too.
Old homes made noises, even when given a sleek new skin. Nicole was about to head back upstairs to her dust rag and mop when she noticed the bar that connected the kitchen with the great room. A rare original feature, it had been updated with black paint so glossy it looked wet, and finished with a slab of gray marble. It was the countertop that caught her eye, the particles on the marble disturbed. Her mouth hung loose as a chill rolled through her body.
Finger-thick lines had been carved into the dust. She’d passed this nook an hour ago, on her way upstairs to the bedroom. She remembered admiring the antique built-in.
Now, the dust displayed two words.
I’m watching.
Nicole’s gaze slid to the house’s front windows, and the empty pebbled driveway outside. No car, no couple.
There was no one else at all.
SEVEN
Mac
“Dropped the buns, but the deck’s pretty clean. One patty or two?”
Mac watched Woody where he stood at the grill, scraping bits of burned food off the rack with a spatula while humming a Bruce Springsteen song.Glory Days, if she had to guess. He was in a better mood than he’d been the previous afternoon, but that might have had something to do with the bottle of Labatt Blue in his hand. Mac held up two fingers like a peace sign before scooping up Whiskey, whose paws were damp from the rain-soaked decking. It had poured for several hours in the afternoon, but now the air felt scrubbed clean.
“One of those has your name on it,” she mock-whispered to the Maltipoo. Plunking the dog in her sister’s lap, she added, “As long as you cheer up Nicole.”
“Me? I’m fine.” Nicole clutched the squirming dog to her chest while the girls finished setting the table. Mac knew better. Nicole’s happiness was an act performed on repeat, staged for the sake of the kids. When they turned their backs, the vaulted frown returned, Nicole’s malaise like a wide hood that cast her face in shadow. Mac never turned down an invitation to her sister’s, loved being with her nieces on the back deck in the cozy, tree-rimmed yard. Lately, though, these nights felt like a sham. She wondered if the girls could sense it too.
When she thought back to the early days of Nicole and Woody’s relationship, she remembered her brother-in-law as a catch. He’d been thoughtful and attentive, and not just with Nicole. If he took Nic out for ice cream and he knew Mac was around, he’d bring back a cup for her too, never failing to remember her current go-to flavor. In return, Mac would cover for them when they snuck out at night or lingered inWoody’s parked car. Marriage was inevitable, a course that couldn’t be intercepted. When they said their vows at the age of twenty-two, Mac had been overjoyed. Some people are just meant for each other, and Woody and Nicole clicked into place like a latch. For a little more than twenty-three years, that latch had held fast.
If you asked her point blank, Mac couldn’t have told you exactly when Woody had changed. It wasn’t a single event but a hundred incongruent moments, all coalescing into a general air of instability—and all since the previous summer. Sometimes he seemed lost in thought, like earlier at the golf course, and then there was this devil-may-care version of the man, spatula stacked high with burger patties, humming as he admired the rain-dappled ferns and two-toned hostas that surrounded the deck.
From his place by Mac’s feet, where Nicole had set him, Whiskey stared straight into Mac’s soul. He knew what was coming, and didn’t dare move until his bite of burger arrived. She wished the answers to her questions were as close at hand.
“Did Mom tell you?” Blair asked Mac once the girls had taken their seats. With their compact physiques, they were clones of their mother, and had even shared clothes with Nicole for a while. That stopped when they swapped their sweats for tiny crop tops and high-waisted jeans. “Nash got in too!”
Mac released a sigh. For months, they’d all been waiting for the moment when Blair would wise up and protest. SUNY Delhi, two hours downstate, was a good college, but Blair had friends who’d been admitted to Syracuse, Cornell, even Yale, and the kid was smart. Smart enough to get into a top-ranked school. Smart enough to know why Nicole and Woody had pushed for a state school in the first place. Even with her scholarships and needs-based financial aid, they didn’t stand a chance of paying for a private college, let alone an Ivy. But now, Blair’s boyfriend had been admitted too. Mac did wish Blair was as excited about attending college as she was about Nash, and not just because Nash had never once had the stones to look Sheriff McIntyre in the eye.
“That’s fantastic!” Mac said as she loaded up her burgerwith neon green relish. SUNY Delhi had been a last-minute decision for Nash, who’d been seriously considering trade work. He and Blair had only been together since Halloween, but they seemed committed. For the moment, anyway. “It’ll be so nice to know someone right off the bat. What’s he planning on studying? Or is he undeclared like you?”
Before Blair could answer, Alana cleared her throat. “The most important question here,” she said, “is how soon can I take over her room?”
“Over my dead body,” Blair said through a grin, giving her sister a nudge.
“So,” Mac said, once everyone had started eating. “How’s work?”
