Chapter 5.

5.

“Burn it,” Tammy said.

This was later in the evening, after Abigail was asleep and my sister was home from work. We sat at her kitchen table with two cups of decaf and the map unfolded between us. The wavy topographic lines seemed to pulse and vibrate if I stared at them too long, like the document was radioactive.

“You can’t keep it, Frankie. It’s too dangerous. So you either burn it, or you turn it over to the FBI. And I know you’re not turning it over to the FBI.”

I thought back to Linda and Brody Taggart and their tidy little home on Alpine Creek. I liked to tell myself that Aidan’s death had brought the family some measure of peace and closure. But I hated that they never had the chance to recover their daughter’s body and give her a proper burial. It could really mess me up if I dwelled too long on it. I’d have to stop and remind myself that Maggie’s well-being was still my primary concern.

So as soon as I got home, I went outside to my backyard and dumped a bag of charcoal briquettes into my hibachi grill. I soaked them in lighter fluid and struck a match, then waited until the coals were nice and hot before retrieving the map from my pocket. I wanted to make sure it was completely obliterated, that no forensic investigator would ever recover flecks of the thing from my grill. And just before I set the paper onto the flames, I wondered if I was throwing away an opportunity.

Here was one last chance to show my daughter how much I trusted her. To show her how much I’d learned from the mistakes of my past. If anyone was ever going to need leverage against the Gardners, it was Maggie. Not me. I refolded the map and put it back in my pocket. And then I replaced the lid on the grill. By this point it was nearly eleven o’clock but I tried dialing Maggie, anyway. I reached her at the penthouse apartment in Beacon Tower. She explained that she was still living there, that the Gardners had encouraged her to stay as long as she liked.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Her voice was bright and cheerful, like we were the sort of father and daughter who talked every day, and maybe I just needed to run over to borrow a cup of sugar.

I said that I needed to tell her something in confidence. Something that she could never pass along to Errol or Gerry or anyone else. “Can I trust you to keep this between us?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have to promise first. Please.”

“Fine, I promise. What is it?”

“Do you remember Abigail? Tammy’s foster kid?”

“The one with the head lice? Sure.”

“She found something in her suitcase. Right before Aidan died, he left her a map. Of Lake Wyndham. And there’s an X on it. Marking a spot on the water. I think it’s—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Suddenly she was very engaged in the conversation. “You need to back up. Why does Abigail have a map of Lake Wyndham?”

So I had to explain the whole story—how Aidan inadvertently left the map in Abigail’s suitcase instead of mine. “He was trying to give me some protection. So I’d have leverage over the Gardners.”

“And it’s just been hanging in Abigail’s bedroom? Where anyone can see it?”

“It’s fine, Maggie. She’s still new here. She hasn’t made a lot of friends yet.”

“What about social workers? Don’t they visit the condo to check on her?”

“Trust me: I’m the only person who knows what it means. And I was going to burn it, just to get rid of it. But then I thought maybe you should have it. In case you ever need it. If you want to come home, I’ll give it to you.”

“Well, I would really like to see it but I’m flying to Madrid on Wednesday and I’ll be gone for ten days.”

I didn’t want to sit on the map for ten days. I suggested that maybe I just burn it, after all.

“Or what if you came to Boston?” she suggested. “Are you doing anything tomorrow? We could meet here. I’ll see if Lucia’s free to make something. You liked her cooking, remember?”