“That numbness protects you until you’re ready to face what’s behind it.”
I rest my chin on my fist and watch the sunfish poking their mouths at the lake floor. If Freya keeps pressing, I may have to face what’s behind the numbness, and I can guarantee I’m not ready for whatever I might find. To change the subject, I ask, “Are you pissed off at me for recording you?”
“All’s forgiven,” Freya says.
“I’m sorry anyway. It was a dick move.”
“Apology accepted.”
Behind her, a pickup truck rolls into the parking area by the construction equipment, and a man gets out. I squint across the water. “That’s Vance Moodey,” I say to Freya. “He runs the lumberyard.”
We’re far enough away that I’m not sure if Vance notices us at the end of the dock as he moves along the shore and snaps photos of the cove and the construction site as if he’s collecting evidence. A few moments later, he retreats to the truck and pulls away.
“That was weird,” Freya says. “What do you think he wanted?”
I sit up. “Where did you park?” I ask.
“Over at Idlewood,” Freya says. “Why?”
I could stay here on the dock all day and be sad and angry. Or I could find a way to distract myself, and I could do it with Freya.
“Because when we follow Vance, my yellow Volvo will be too easy to spot.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
By the time Freya and I reach her truck and hit the main road, Vance Moodey is long gone. Freya speeds away from the lake. “Start with the obvious,” she says. “Moodey Lumber is out on Route 44.”
She drives quickly, and soon the thick forest alongside the road transitions into a two-lane highway lined with strip malls and restaurants. “Has Vance Moodey come up in Gilcrest’s investigation?” I ask.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Harold: Duncan doesn’t confer with me on his open homicide investigations, and that’s too bad for him, because I’d make an excellent consultant. Even if he did, I wouldn’t tell you what he said. It would be a breach of trust. Let’s stick to finding Vance Moodey for now. What doyouknow about the guy?”
“I met him at Burkehaven the day I arrived for Memorial Day weekend,” I say. “He confronted my mother. And two days later, he came by Idlewood and got into it with my brother. Vance attended my mother’s memorial service. Now he showed up at Burkehaven again.”
“If he owns the lumberyard,” Freya says, “he’s probably worked with your mother for years. There can’t be that many suppliers in the region.”
“Reid owes Vance money,” I say. “Vance said as much when they were arguing.”
“And the Burkehaven project is stalled,” Freya says. “Cash flow may be a problem at the construction firm. Vance could be taking photos for a lawsuit.”
Something from the earlier conversation between Vance and my mother returns to me now. After Vance left that day, I’d asked my mother what she owed him, and she’d replied that everything wasn’t about money. If Vance hadn’t come to talk to her about the Burkehaven project, what could he have come for?
We drive in silence for a moment, until Freya says, “That night we met at the Landing, you weren’t straight with me, and you should have been. But I wasn’t up front with you, either. Duncan and I were supposed to go out on his boat the night of the Lantern Festival, but he canceled and spent the evening at his cabin with his wife and kids. I wanted to get back at him. And I used you. So we’re more even than I want to admit.”
“Is that an apology?” I ask.
“I don’t know if it’s an apology, but it’s my explanation for what happened, and it’s part of the reason why I came to find you this morning.”
“You were Gilcrest’s date to my mother’s memorial service.”
“I don’t know ifdateis the right word.Chaperone, maybe. I had to be sure he didn’t act like an asshole. Besides, he’s working an open homicide, and plenty of suspects were there.”
Including me.
“Did he learn anything?” I ask.
“I told him he could observe, but no questioning,” Freya says. “And I toldyouI wouldn’t talk about what I learned from Duncan. So stop asking.”
“I can’t make any promises,” I say, swiveling around to face her as she drives. “And I didn’t mind being used.”
