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“You can get back to work,” Mac told Kobe. “Don’t worry about the boss. I’ll talk to him.”

Kobe’s knees nearly buckled with relief. He shook Mac’s hand, then my father’s. He gave me a pained look. I mouthed a quick “Don’t worry.”

After Kobe made a hasty goodbye, Mac turned to us.

“We think this has something to do with that case you’re working on, Mercy?”

“Same basic message.”

“What about this part?” Mac said, pointing to the second phrase, opus nōn perfectum.

“The job is not complete,” Dad translated.

“What job?” Mac asked.

I shuddered, thinking about the most ominous possibility. Geneva Bell was still breathing. Four other young women were in their graves.

“You know what job, Mac,” Dad said. “This has been about Deadwater Lake from the get. Mercy’s been trying to tell you. Geneva Bell might be in trouble.”

“She’s terrified to leave her house,” I said.

“But as far as you know, there’s been no physical threat,” Mac said. “I’m not trying to minimize anything. I’m just trying to get a sense of what I’m dealing with here.”

“No,” I said. “It’s been harassment. Phone calls. Vandalism. You know this.”

“My gut’s still telling me this is just some screwed-up kid trying to make trouble,” Mac said.

“Your gut’s been wrong before,” Dad snapped.

He was right. The case that brought me to Helene in the first place had been a colossal mistake. It wasn’t Mac’s fault directly. But at the very least, it should give him a reason to trust my instincts.

“I’ll send an extra patrol around the Bell house. I’ll have Deputy Carnes do some canvassing around town. Try to find out if anyone might have seen someone on the docks this afternoon who shouldn’t have been. In the meantime, if there’s anything else. If you even get the heebie-jeebies about something, you call me.”

I bit my bottom lip. I didn’t want to say this in front of Dad, but in light of today’s incident, I couldn’t chalk it up as nothing.

“There was something,” I said. “The other day. When I went to my office in the morning, one of my windows was open. Just a crack. Maybe a half inch. But I know I didn’t leave it open the day before. I hardly ever try to open that window. It’s painted shut.”

“Mercy,” Dad said. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Nothing else seemed wrong,” I said.

“You think you might have opened it, Tom?” Mac asked.

For an instant, my father looked confused. “Why would I open Mercy’s window?”

“Is it possible you did, but maybe it slipped your mind?”

Dad’s eyes flashed with fury. “I’m not an idiot, Mac. Don’t treat me like one. If I said I didn’t touch the window, it means I didn’t touch the damn window. Are we done here? Seems like you’ve got plenty to do besides wasting my time.”

“Take it easy, Tom,” Mac said, though he caught my eye.

“It’s late,” I said. “Is it okay if I take the boat back home, or do you need it here?”

“It’s fine,” Mac said. “We have plenty of pictures and a paint sample.”

“Lot of good that’ll do,” Dad said. “You gonna send it to your nonexistent lab?”

“Okay,” I said. “Time to go. Thanks for taking personal interest in this one, Sheriff. Just let me know if you need anything else.”