Carla Neggers - The Widow

Owen stood on the rock cliffs where his sister had fallen to her death. A family of black ducks bobbed in the outgoing tide below him. Tall firs and spruces grew along the edge of the vertical rock face, their roots bulging out of the thin soil, some of them hanging over the water.

Linc stayed two paces behind him. “You’re not worried about falling?”

“No. It’s not slippery.” Owen grinned at him. “And I’ve got one hand on this tree.”

“I don’t like hanging my toes over the edges of cliffs.” Leaning forward, very tentatively, Linc peered down at the water, then pulled back, his cockiness-a cover for everything-returning. “I’ve never spent much time out here. What’s the point? There’s nothing to do. Maybe if I were into rock climbing.”

“Or bird-watching.”

“Bird-watching?”

Owen stepped back from the cliffs. “Never mind.”

“Oh.” Linc seemed slightly embarrassed. “Your sister. I remember Grace saying she was into birds. I wasn’t thinking about…” He grimaced. “I wasn’t thinking this is where she, you know, fell.”

“It was a long time ago.”

The five wooded acres of waterfront were included in the property Jason Cooper was selling, and presumably would go to the new owners. Linc, obviously, wouldn’t care. But he’d looked anxious and preoccupied since he’d arrived on Owen’s deck an hour ago. Owen had suggested walking out to the cliffs as much to burn up some of Linc’s nervous energy as to see if they could pick up the trail of Abigail’s attacker.

After dropping her off at her house, Owen had left the law enforcement officers and returned to his deck, dragging a chair close enough to the rail that he could put his feet up and stare out at the water and think. He’d gotten about two minutes of thinking done when Linc had turned up.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Mattie’s worked for my family for years. I can’t believe he’d hurt anyone. Abigail pushes his buttons, but she pushes everyone’s buttons.”

“Let’s see what Mattie says when the police catch up with him.”

“It’s not good that they can’t find him, is it?” Linc asked.

“Depends.” Owen noticed dark smudges under Linc’s eyes. “Are you sleeping okay? Did I push you too hard on our hikes?”

“No, no. I’m fine. I’m sleeping okay. It’s just-” He shrugged, looking out at the horizon, sky and water the same clear blue. “I guess with my sister and everything she’s got going on, and then Abigail showing up-I’m just on edge.”

“Where’s Grace today?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t tell me what she’s doing. She’s probably at the house.” He paused, clearing his throat, then asked abruptly, “Does Abigail think that Mattie killed Chris?”

“That hasn’t come up between us.”

“In a way, it’d be easier if he did and we knew it, could prove it. Then it’d be over. The not knowing.”

“You were just thirteen when Chris died,” Owen said. “That’s a tough age to be a part of something like that.”

“He was my friend.” Link blinked rapidly, keeping any tears at bay. “I remember the morning he was found. No one wanted to tell me. My father-he just said Chris was hurt. I didn’t find out for hours what’d really happened.”

“Who told you?”

“My dad, finally. Chris…” His voice cracked. “He believed in me. After he was killed, I learned I don’t need anyone to believe in me in order to believe in myself.”

“We all want someone to believe in us-”

“Wanting’s different from needing.”

“Maybe so.”

Linc brushed the back of his hand across his cheeks. “I should get back.”

Owen eyed the younger man. “Linc, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing. Everything’s getting to me is all.”

They headed back along the path through the woods and out to the private drive. When they reached Owen’s house, Grace Cooper was on the deck, arms crossed on her chest as she paced, preoccupied, oblivious to her surroundings. She saw her brother and gave a small gasp of relief. “There you are. Your car’s at Ellis’s-”

“I know. I left it up there and walked down here. What difference does it make?”

“We were worried.”

Linc rolled his eyes. “We?”

“Yes, we. Father, Ellis.” She dropped her arms to her sides. She had on expensive-looking sailing clothes-white slacks, a navy-and-white top-that somehow made her look older than she was. “With this attack on Abigail, who knows what’s next.”

“I’m not afraid.” Linc sounded more belligerent than convincingly unafraid. “It wasn’t a random attack. Whoever went after her isn’t going to beat me over the head.”

Her brother’s confrontational tone didn’t seem to get to Grace. “That’s a good point. You don’t believe it was Mattie? The police are looking for him.”

“Doesn’t matter what I believe.”

She turned to Owen, her poise faltering slightly, but she managed a polite smile. “I don’t imagine you’re getting the rest you thought you would this week.”

“Not a problem.”

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t be for you.” Her smile faded, offering a glimpse of the emotions she kept so tightly under wrap. “Everything’s a mess right now.”

“Her appointment,” Linc said, as if Owen couldn’t guess that was what she meant. “It’s all-important, you know.”

His sister swung around at him. “That’s not fair!”

He flushed. “I guess not. I’m sorry.” He shrugged, self-deprecating all of a sudden. “Being a jerk helps me not think about everything else.”

Grace nodded, instantly accepting her brother’s explanation. “It’s okay. Forget it. Owen-we’ll run along. Please let us know if there’s anything we can do. I hope Abigail’s all right.”

As she and Linc headed off the deck and back to her car, DoyleAlden pulled into the driveway, Abigail in the front seat next to him. When they got out, they greeted the Coopers, who mumbled quick hellos before continuing on their way.

“Two of Lou’s guys are up at Ellis’s house,” Doyle said as he stepped up onto the deck. “They’ll be talking to Grace and Linc next. It’s Mattie’s day off. No reason for them to know where he is, I suppose.”

Abigail walked up to the deck, her limp less noticeable. She’d put on fresh clothes, but blood had seeped through her khaki pants where she’d been cut with the drywall saw. Not a lot, Owen noted, but enough. She paid no attention, taking in a deep breath. “We could hit eighty degrees today. Imagine that.”

Doyle frowned at her. “You look like shit, Abigail.”

“One of those days, Chief.”

“Yeah.” He sighed heavily. “I guess it is.”

“At least we found my car keys. Mattie threw them in the grass by the driveway. He must have thought better of stealing my car.”

“We don’t know it was Mattie.”

“You don’t. If I were in an official capacity, I wouldn’t, either. But I’m not.” With a slight wince of pain, she moved to the glass door. “I’m the one who forgot to lock her damn door.”

“Might not have made a difference,” Doyle said. “Easy enough to put a chair or a rock through a door or window, if someone’s determined to get in.”

They’d evidently been over that ground already. Doyle obviously relished being able to reassure Abigail about a mistake she’d made.

“Anything new on Mattie?” Owen asked.

Doyle shook his head. “He knows every inch of this island. He’s got friends who’d give him a ride, pick him up in their boat-loan him a boat. If he doesn’t want to talk to us, he can make himself very hard to find.”

“Cutting my phone line was a smart preemptive strike,” Abigail said, not going inside just yet. “It delayed getting you all out here. He knew he only had a bike.”