The bells on the transom rang.
“Mom, can we roast hot dogs on the fire tonight?” Ethan asked.
“If it doesn’t rain,” Lisa said. “We’re going to need buns.”
“And chips, too!” Taylor said.
“And a few other things I forgot at home.”
While the kids explored the store, Lisa collected her items and put them on the counter where an older man was reading the New York Times.
“Hi, Jed.” Lisa gave him a bittersweet smile.
Jed Hallick removed his bifocals. He was an understanding man who’d watched Bobby grow up here summer after summer.
“Sorry to hear you sold the place, Lisa.”
“It hurts, but I had to do it.”
Seeing the sadness behind her eyes, Jed shifted gears as he rang up her purchases. “Vi and the church ladies will be out Tuesday to box up what you want to sell and donate. I’ll have Brett get out there with the truck then, too.”
He bagged up her items and patted her hand.
“You take care, Lisa. It looks like we’re in for a whopper of a storm tonight.”
“Jed, you were part of what Bobby loved about this place,” Lisa said before she and the kids left. The transom bells rang behind them.
The next stretch from the store to the cabin was just under half a mile, but the old dirt road sliced through forests so thick they blocked the light. In some spots it was treacherously narrow, with sudden valleys and small cliff edges. Leafy branches slapped at Lisa’s car while loose gravel popcorned against the undercarriage.
It was as if they’d entered another world.
Lisa stopped at a small, weatherworn sign with the name Palmer hand painted on it. As dust clouds swallowed her car, she inched off the road onto an earthen strip overrun with shrubs.
Through the trees they glimpsed the lake and their cabin.
It was so beautiful here, she thought. They were so lucky to have had this.
The cabin was built in the 1940s with ten-inch hand-hewn pine logs. The lakeside wall was made of floor-to-ceiling glass and offered a sweeping view of the water. French doors opened to the deck, with inviting Adirondack chairs and a path to the dock.
Inside, the cabin had hardwood floors, a stone fireplace, a spacious living room and dining area that flowed to the kitchen. The fridge and stove were powered by batteries and solar panels on an exposed hillside.
At the rear of the main floor were two small bedrooms and a bathroom. The master bedroom was upstairs in the loft. It overlooked the living room area and the lake windows.
No phone, no internet, no TV, a world away from the city.
“Out here you’re off the grid,” Bobby used to say.
They unloaded the car.
Ethan carried his father’s urn and tenderly set it on the hearth before helping carry other things in. After they’d finished, Taylor said she was hungry. So was Ethan.
“Can we roast the hot dogs now?” he asked.
Outside, dusk was approaching, but the rain was holding off.
“Let’s go for it,” Lisa said.
She went to the fire pit near the deck, heaped some kindling within the circle of stones, piled firewood nearby and got things started. The kids helped bring everything to the picnic table. They each had their own roasting stick. As they cooked their hot dogs, Ethan tried to teach Taylor how to burp.
“Swallow some air, like this.”
“Ethan, stop that!” Lisa said before she burped on purpose, making everyone laugh.
After they ate their hot dogs and chips, they toasted marshmallows.
Night fell, but the rain held and they snuggled around the fire in sleeping bags listening to the crackling as the flames painted their faces in yellow and orange light.
“I wish we didn’t have to move to California,” Taylor said.
“I know,” Lisa said. “This is hard and scary for all of us, but I think it’s the right thing to do.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” Ethan said. “A lot of good things have happened to us here, but a lot of bad things, too, like Dad, and the new stuff.”
“We’ll talk—” Lisa swallowed “—we’ll talk about it some more tomorrow.”
She watched the fire in her children’s eyes, thinking how much she needed them and how you can take nothing, not even the next moment in life, for granted.
“Mom,” Ethan said. “Tomorrow we’re going to put some of Dad’s ashes in the lake and around the cabin, right?”
“Yes.”
“And that way no matter who owns the cabin, or takes over, it will always belong to Dad and us, sort of, right?”
The flames reflected the tear tracks glistening on Lisa’s face.
“Yes, always.”
Thunder rolled, splitting the sky.
Lisa felt a raindrop as one sizzled on the fire, then another.
“Okay, time to get inside! Grab what you can!”
The rain came in torrents.
They watched the storm over the lake for half an hour before Lisa got Ethan and Taylor into bed. Then she hauled herself to the loft, exhausted. She had a lot to do in the morning. Jack Gannon was coming to interview her. After that, she needed to start sorting and storing things. Lisa went through a mental checklist as she listened to the rain hissing on the lake.
It was hypnotic.
She felt herself sinking for seconds, minutes, hours, she didn’t know how long. She fell asleep unable to stop her thoughts of recent days from assailing her. They replayed over and over again until she was unsure if she was thinking them, or dreaming them, or dreaming about tape.
Duct tape?
Weird.
Its distinctive peel when pulled hard from the roll.
It sounded so real.
Lisa was thinking about it, hearing it.
She woke.
Odd.
Was Ethan playing with duct tape?
It was still storming. Lisa got up and peered down from the loft, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. She saw nothing unusual.
Deciding to check on the kids, she went down the loft stairs, puzzled over what was making that noise.
Lisa switched the light on and froze.
Her stomach contracted.
Ethan’s and Taylor’s eyes, wide as saucers, pleaded to her.
Duct tape covered their mouths.
Their hands were taped in front of them. Their bodies and legs were bound to the kitchen chairs that were turned from the table. Tears streamed down their faces, snot flowed from their noses. The polished blade of a large hunting knife glinted as it gingerly scraped along Ethan’s quivering throat.
Nate Unger was holding the knife. He was wearing latex gloves and watching Lisa.
Ivan Felk was sitting next to Lisa’s children, glaring at her.
He was wearing latex gloves and holding a gun.
Oh, Jesus.
Lisa saw the cobra tattoos on their wrists, exactly like the one on the man who had murdered the agent and had held a gun to her head.
“No! Please, no!”
Lisa flew to her children.
Felk smacked Lisa’s face, sending her to the floor. Pulling her by her hair, he then hoisted her up as Unger gently brushed his knife over Taylor’s neck, her screams muffled by tape.
“God, no! Please don’t hurt my kids!”
Felk shoved Lisa into a chair and bound her with tape.
“Please, leave us alone! Please! We’ve done nothing.”
Lisa continued pleading until he pressed a strip over her mouth. Felk nodded, and Unger, who had a holstered gun strapped to his leg, lifted Taylor, chair and all, and carried her to her bedroom.
Lisa began thrashing, screaming under her tape. Unger returned for Ethan and carried him off to his room.