Brian Freeman - The Bone House

She felt a hand on her cheek. When she turned her head, she saw Amy hovering over her, propped on one elbow. The girl's face was dirty, but her eyes were bright and glassy with tears that streaked down her skin along with the rain.

'You OK?' Amy asked.

Hilary gave a weak smile. 'Yeah. You?'

'I'm all right.'

Amy sank against Hilary's shoulder and put an arm protectively around her and held on tight. The girl closed her eyes. Hilary did, too. Their chests rose and fell in unison as they breathed. Hilary heard the splash of boots as men drew closer and the comforting shouts of their voices. They talked to her like the angels in Mark's paintings, but she couldn't answer, even as she felt strong arms lifting her and carrying her. All she could do was give herself up to sleep.

Chapter Fifty-Five

As the ferry drew closer to the mainland, Cab felt the turbulent waters of the Death's Door passage settle into bobbing swells. The stubborn rain soaking the peninsula had broken up over the past three days and drifted east across the lake, leaving blue skies and mild temperatures in its wake. The magic of the view made him finally understand why there were people who would choose to live nowhere else but in this remote, beautiful land.

Cab's phone rang on his belt. It was Lala calling from Florida. He'd barely spoken to her since she guided him to the body buried on Peter Hoffman's property. They'd only had time for brief conversations as the local police wrapped up their investigations in Green Bay and on Washington Island.

'So what's the deal, Cab?' Lala said. 'Are the loose ends tied up?'

'Most of them.'

'No more dead bodies?'

'Not today.'

'That's good. Try to keep it that way, OK? You're making the lieutenant nervous.'

Cab smiled. 'I will.'

'I read your report. I guess you found what you were looking for. With the key. At the bottom of that hole.'

'Yeah, you're right. I did.' He added, 'It's scary what people keep hidden under the ground.'

'It is.'

He heard the unspoken questions in her voice. What about you, Cab? What are you hiding?

'So where do you go next?' Lala went on, with a casualness that sounded false. 'Do I win the bet?'

'What bet?' he asked, but he knew what she meant.

'The pool, remember? I figured this was the week that Catch-a-Cab Bolton would head for the horizon. I have a lot of money riding on you.'

'How much?'

'Ten whole bucks.'

'You must have been pretty confident.'

'No, I was pretty cynical. I'm actually starting to feel bad about that.'

'Don't.'

'It sounds like Door County needs a new sheriff,' Lala reminded him. 'Do you want the job?'

Cab laughed. 'This place is too cold for me. What's it like down there?'

'What else? Hot. Humid.'

'That actually sounds nice,' Cab admitted. 'I'll be back home tonight. I guess I owe you ten bucks.'

'Keep it,' Lala said. 'You've got a surprise waiting for you down here.'

'What is it?'

'I got out of your shower this morning, and guess who was waiting for me in the living room of your condo? Your mother.'

'My mother's in Florida?'

'Tarla Bolton in the flesh. Actually, I was the one in the flesh. We were both pretty damn surprised to see each other.'

Cab laughed again. It felt good. 'What did she say?'

'She said her son has good taste.'

'Well, that's true.'

'She also brought enough luggage to completely fill your second bedroom.'

'She's staying ?'

'Looks that way. She said something about the mountain coming to Mohammed.'

'I guess I better hurry,' Cab said.

'I guess. I'll get my stuff out of your bedroom and rinse off your toothbrush.'

'You're funny. You know, there's no rush, Lala. Is your air conditioning fixed?'

'No.'

'So stick around a few days. Take a vacation. I need one too. Besides, my mother is more than any one person can take alone.'

'I'll think about that,' she said.

'Hey, do me a favor, OK?' he asked.

'What?'

'Take some cash from my nightstand and go get a very, very expensive bottle of red wine. Tonight, you, me, and my mother are going to drink it on the beach.'

'How often does a girl get a romantic offer like that?' Lala said.

'I'd like to tell you both a story.'

'What kind of story?'

'It's about a girl named Vivian,' Cab said.

There was a long silence from Lala on the line. 'I'll buy the wine.'

'Thanks.'

'Travel safe, Cab.'

'Bye, Lala.'

He hung up the phone and felt an odd heaviness in his heart.

It occurred to Cab that he had never known what homesickness was before, not about people, not about places. He felt restless as the boat nestled against the dock in Northport. He jogged down the steps to the lower deck, climbed into his car, and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel until the deck attendant waved him off the ferry. He was first in line. His Corvette growled with impatience.

As he drove with a thump on to solid land, he saw a long line of cars in the return line, waiting to head back across the blue waters under the blue skies toward Washington Island. That was how it always was here — people coming and going, heading in opposite directions. The lead car bound for the island, bound for home, belonged to Hilary Bradley. He recognized her, and she recognized him. She waved at him as if he was a friend.

Cab pulled off to the side of the pier, letting the other cars form a convoy away from the ferry. When there was a gap in the traffic, he ran on his stork-like legs to the car parked in front of the on-ramp to the boat.

Hilary rolled down the window and leaned out. The warm wind mussed her blond hair. 'Hello, Detective.'

'Mrs Bradley. How are you?'

'Better,' she said. 'Much better. So's Amy Leigh.'

'That's good.'

'The police in Green Bay treated us well.'

'My lieutenant and I made some calls to make sure they did.'

She took off her sunglasses and smiled at him. He could see cuts and bruises lingering on her face, but she still managed to look pretty. Her mood matched the lightness of the weather.

'Are you heading back to Florida?' she asked.

'I am.'

'I'm glad I had a chance to see you before you left. To say thank you for what you did. For going over to the island that night. Without you, I probably would have lost Mark.'

'I should be thanking you,' Cab told her. 'I feel guilty that it took a schoolteacher and a college girl to expose what really happened on that beach in Naples. I would have felt even worse if either of you had been seriously hurt.'

'That wasn't your fault.'

'You probably also owe me an "I told you so" for wrongly suspecting your husband. I'm sorry. I made a mistake.'

'You don't know him like I do,' Hilary said.

'Well, I told you before that I hoped you were right — and you were.'

'I've been wrong many times, but not about Mark. Trusting someone doesn't necessarily make you a fool, Detective.'

'I'll try to remember that,' Cab said.

He heard a whistle and saw that the belly of the ferry was empty. One journey was done; the next was in waiting. Hilary Bradley turned on the engine of her car, and he could see in her face the same impatience he felt. To finish the ride. To be home where you belonged with the ones you loved. He envied her for having things in her life he was just beginning to find.

'I have to go,' she said, extending a hand through the window. He shook it. Her grip was firm, but her skin was soft.

'Good luck in all things, Mrs Bradley.'

'Thank you, Detective. The same to you.'

She drove on to the ferry, and Cab returned to the Corvette. He gunned it and headed south without a backward look at the water and the island. He had a long drive ahead through the small towns of Door County, but it was a perfect day to travel back to reality. He could drive as fast or as slow as he liked on the empty roads. For the first time in a long time, he felt as if there was no one chasing him.