Chapter 17

17

Will watched thermal paper inch out of the portable fax machine like a snail squeezing through a pasta maker. The search warrant for the compound had finally come through.

"Okay." He pressed the satellite phone to his ear, telling Amanda, "It's printing."

"Good," she said. "I want you to wrap this up within the hour."

Will would've laughed if not for the fact that she could make his working life a miserable hell. "Faith is still with Sara, but they should be back soon. I asked Penny, the cleaner, to set up cottage four so we can do the interviews. Kevin is securing the body in the freezer. The kitchen staff probably saw what we were doing, but they're knee-deep in meal prep. I think we'll be able to keep Chuck's death a secret until dinner at least."

"I'm still trying to track down the file on Drew Conklin's assault charge," she said. "What about the family?"

"Their time is coming." Will started walking toward the woodpile. He wanted to see it in daylight. "I was steering clear of the parents while I waited for the warrant. I don't know where Christopher is. I'll send Kevin to find him once he gets back. Jon's still missing. I think Sara will peel off to look for him again. The aunt's Subaru is on the parking pad, so she must be back at the house."

"There's more to get from the aunt."

"Agreed." Will stood in front of the massive stacks of wood. There was enough split oak to last the winter. "I took a look around Chuck's cottage. It's a mess, but there was nothing interesting. No bloody clothes. No broken knife. No eye drops, even. Which isn't surprising. I went into all the cottages after the murder looking for Dave. If I didn't see anything then, I doubt I'll find anything now."

"Would you find it surprising to know that Mr. Weller has two hundred thousand dollars in a money market account?"

"Christ." Will had dipped into his emergency reserve to pay for the honeymoon. "I can halfway see why Christopher would be sitting on some cash. He doesn't have any bills. But what's Chuck's story?"

"Very similar to Christopher's. He paid off his student loans one year ago, almost in the same week. He's got a fishing license, driver's license, and two credit cards that are consistently paid off. There's no next of kin that I can locate. And as with Christopher, this seems to be a recent windfall. I did a deep dive going back ten years. They were both covered up in debt until one year ago."

"We need to see their taxes."

"Give me a reason and I'll give you a subpoena."

"Stock market? Lottery scratch-off?"

"I looked, and no."

"The money's got to be legit. They wouldn't put it in the bank if they hadn't paid taxes on it." Will walked down the stacks of wood. One looked different from the others. "What did Chuck do for a living?"

"I couldn't find any reference. From his social media, it seems that he primarily spent his time paying for lap dances in strip clubs."

Will moved the phone to his shoulder to free his hand. "There's no employment listed anywhere?"

"Nothing," she said. "He rents a condominium in Buckhead. We're in the process of executing a search warrant. Perhaps we'll find any next of kin or paperwork related to his employment there."

"Look for Eads Clear eye drops."

"The killer could've used a different brand. I left it open-ended in your search warrant."

"Good." Will picked up a piece of chestnut. The grain was tight. It was an expensive choice for firewood. "I already searched all the trash bags. I didn't find anything."

"How did you manage that with one hand?"

Will had felt like a toddler when he'd asked Kevin to help him put on the glove. "I managed."

"How many bottles are you looking for?"

"I don't know." Will ran his fingers along a piece of figured maple. Another expensive choice. "I want to talk to Sara, but I think I remember a case where a guy was using eye drops as a date rape drug."

"If Mr. Weller was using them on women, why would he use them on himself?"

"I can't answer that right now," Will tapped a piece of acacia. It was soft and dried out from exposure, not the kind of thing you wanted in your fireplace. "What do you know about wood?"

"More than I'd like. Back in the day, I worked a sexual assault case against a carpenter."

Will didn't ask for details. "I get the feeling Christopher and Chuck had a side-hustle. Mercy was important to the operation. The aunt told me that Christopher and Chuck were hanging around the woodpile when she drove in."

"Find out why," Amanda said. "The clock is ticking."

The line went dead. Will had to hand it to her. She knew how to end a conversation.

He clipped the phone to the back of his pants. He knelt down in front of the stacked logs. Everything but this one section was oak. Why were they storing expensive wood outside in the elements? What kind of business would put two hundred grand each in Christopher's and Chuck's pockets? And why wasn't Mercy being paid?

"Will?" Sara's voice sounded tense.

He stood up. Faith was nowhere in sight. "What's wrong?"

"I found the broken knife handle in Keisha and Drew's toilet tank."

Will stared at her. "What?"

"Keisha told me her toilet was dripping, so I looked and—"

"Does she know you saw it?"

"No. I put the lid back on and told her she would need to talk to Christopher."

"Where's Drew?"

"He went to the equipment shed to find Christopher."

"Did you see him? Where the fuck was Faith?" All he could think to do was physically put himself between Sara and Drew's cottage. "What were you doing going in there by yourself?"

"Will," she said. "Look at me. I'm okay. We can talk about this later."

"Fuck." Will unclipped the phone. He hit the walkie button. "Faith, come in?"

There was static, then Faith said, "I'm heading toward the main house. Where's Sara?"

"With me. Hurry up." He clicked the button again. "Kevin, come in?"

"Right here." Kevin was walking toward them. He was covered in mud and debris from wrangling Chuck's body up the trail. "What's going on?"

"I need you to locate Drew. He's supposed to be at the equipment shed with Christopher. Keep an eye on him. Don't approach. He could be armed."

"Got it." Kevin set off at a brisk pace.

"Will," Sara said. "Keisha told me that the last time they were up here was two and a half months ago."

He didn't need a reminder. "Around the time Mercy got pregnant."

"What's up?" Faith had passed Kevin as she walked across the compound. She was wearing her Glock and a pair of baggy black pants. "Sara, where did you go? I wanted to look over the map."

Will told her, "We need to secure cottage three. The broken knife handle is in Keisha and Drew's toilet tank."

Faith didn't ask questions. She started jogging toward the cottage, her Glock down by her side.

Will kept pace with her. "There's a set of French doors off the back."

"On it." Faith peeled off.

Will scanned the area, checking windows and doors to make sure no one was going to surprise them. He knew that the front door wouldn't be locked. He walked in without knocking.

"Shit!" Keisha jumped up from the couch. "What the fuck, Will?"

It was the same reaction she'd had before, but this time, Will knew exactly what he was looking for. "Stay here."

"What do you mean, stay here?" Keisha tried to follow him to the back, but Faith stopped her. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Special Agent Faith Mitchell—"

Will pulled a glove out of his pocket as he approached the toilet. He used the nitrile as a barrier between his fingers and the porcelain as he removed the lid.

The broken knife handle was exactly where Sara had described. A thin piece of metal was preventing the flapper from making a seal. Which didn't make sense. If Drew had put the handle in the toilet tank, why was he looking for Christopher to stop the leak?

Or, was Drew worried about the cottages being searched, so he'd cleverly rigged the toilet to make it seem like he wasn't the one who'd hidden the knife handle?

Will wasn't sure about anything except that the killer liked water. Mercy had been left in the lake. Chuck had died in the creek.

"Will!" Keisha shouted. "Tell me what the hell is going on."

He carefully laid the tank lid on the bathmat by the tub. Faith was physically blocking Keisha when he went back into the living room. He told her, "Secure the evidence."

"What evidence?" Keisha asked. "Why are you doing this?"

"I need you to go to the cottage next door with me."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Keisha said. "Where is my husband?"

"Keisha," Will said. "Either go with me on your own or I will physically take you there."

Her face turned ashen. "I'm not talking to you."

"I understand," he said. "But I need you to go to the other cottage so we can search your things."

Keisha's teeth were clenched. She looked angry and terrified, but thankfully, she walked out onto the porch.

Sara was standing in the middle of the compound. Will knew why she was there. She wanted to face Keisha, to give her a chance to yell at the person who had caused this. Will didn't care about Keisha's feelings of betrayal. He wanted Sara off this mountain as soon as possible.

"This way." Will directed Keisha toward cottage four. She glanced back at Sara before she walked up the stairs. She opened the door. Four was exactly like three. Same layout. Same furniture. Same windows and doors.

Will said, "Sit down on the couch, please."

Keisha sat with her hands between her knees. The anger had left her. She was visibly shaken. "Where's Drew?"

"My associate is looking for him."

"He didn't do anything, okay? He's cooperating. We're both cooperating and following orders. We're complying. All right? Sara did you hear that? We're complying."

Will felt his stomach twist into a knot at the sight of Sara.

"I heard," Sara told Keisha. "I'll stay with you while we work this out."

"Yeah, well, I made the mistake of trusting you before, and look where I'm at now." Keisha put her fist to her mouth. Tears streamed from her eyes. "What the hell happened? We came up here to get away from this shit."

Will watched Sara sit down in one of the club chairs. She was looking at him like she wanted guidance when his guidance had been for her to stay outside.

There was a burst of static, then, "Will, copy?"

Will reached back for his phone. He had no choice but to step out onto the porch. He left the door open so he could keep his eye on Keisha. "What is it?"

Kevin said, "Subjects are fishing from a canoe on the lake. They haven't seen me."

Will tapped the phone to his chin. He thought about all the tools that Drew would have access to on the boat, including knives. "Stay back, keep an eye on them, let me know if anything changes."

"Will?" Faith came up onto the porch. She was holding an evidence bag with the broken knife handle inside. "Nothing in their suitcases or backpacks. The cottage was clean. Want me to lock this in the UTV?"

"Bring it inside."

Keisha was sitting ramrod straight on the couch when Will walked back into the room. Her eyes went to his gun, then Faith's. Her hands were shaking. She was clearly terrified that they had brought her inside the cottage away from witnesses so that they could hurt her.

Will took the evidence bag and motioned Faith outside. She left the door ajar so she could stand on the porch and listen. He sat down in the other chair, which wouldn't have been his choice, but Sara was seated closest to Keisha. He placed the plastic evidence bag on the table.

Keisha stared at the handle. "What is that?"

"It was in your toilet tank."

"Is it a kid's game or—" She leaned forward. "I don't know what that is."

Will looked at the red plastic handle with a thin piece of curved metal jutting out at the broken end. If you didn't know what you were looking at, you might mistake it for a kitchen implement or an old-fashioned toy.

He asked her, "What do you think it is?"

"I don't know!" Her voice raked up in desperation. "Why are you even asking me about this? You've got the killer. We all know you arrested Dave."

Will guessed now was as good a time as any to let out the truth. "Dave didn't kill Mercy. He has an alibi."

Keisha's hand slapped to her mouth. She looked like she was going to be sick.

Will said, "Keisha—"

"Jesus Christ," she breathed. "Drew told me not to talk to you guys."

"You can choose not to talk," Will said. "That's your right."

"You're gonna jam us up anyway. Goddammit. I can't believe this is happening. Sara, what the fuck?"

"Keisha," Will didn't want her talking to Sara. "Let's try to clear this up."

"The fuck you say," she yelled. "Do you know how many idiots are rotting in prison because the cops told them they needed to clear some shit up?"

Will said nothing. Thankfully, neither did Sara.

"Jesus." Her hand went back to her mouth. She looked at the bag on the table. She'd finally put it together. She knew that it was part of the murder weapon. "I've never seen that before, okay? Not me, not Drew. Neither one of us. Tell me how to get out of this, okay? We didn't do it. Neither one of us had anything to do with this."

Will asked, "When did you first hear the toilet leaking?"

"Yesterday. We were unpacking and we heard it dripping, so Drew went to find Mercy. She was upset because Dave was supposed to fix the toilet before we checked in."

Will heard her audibly gulp for air. She was terrified.

"Mercy told us to go for a walk while she took care of it, so we went up the Judge Cecil Trail to look down at the valley. When we came back, the toilet was fixed."

"Was Mercy still here?"

"No. We didn't see her again until cocktails."

"When did you notice the noise from the toilet again?"

"This morning," she said. "We went to breakfast and—that's when it happened, isn't it? Somebody put that thing in our toilet. They're trying to frame us."

"Who else was at breakfast?"

"Uh—" She gripped her hands to her head, trying to think. "Frank and Monica were there. He tried to get her to eat something, but she couldn't handle it. They left before we did. And the guys—the app guys. Did you know his name is Paul?"

"I did."

"They didn't show up until we were leaving. They're always late. They were late to cocktails last night, too. Remember?"

"What about the family?"

"They never come to breakfast. At least not that I've seen." She turned to Sara. "Please, listen to me. The doors are always unlocked. You know we had nothing to do with this. What could possibly be our motivation?"

Will said, "Mercy was twelve weeks pregnant."

Keisha's jaw dropped. "Who was—"

Will heard her teeth click together when she closed her mouth. She glared at Sara with a look of red-hot betrayal. "You tricked me."

"I did," Sara said.

"Keisha." Will pulled the focus back his way. "Drew was convicted of assault."

"That was twelve years ago," Keisha said. "My ex, Vick, kept fucking with me, showing up at work, sending me texts. I told him to stop, then he shows up drunk at our house. He tried to grab my arm. Drew shoved him back and Vick fell down the stairs. Bumped his head. He was fine, but he insisted on going to the hospital, making it a thing. That was all. You can look it up."

Will rubbed his jaw. The story sounded believable, but then Keisha was desperate to be believed. "Did Drew ever spend time alone with Mercy?"

"You want me to say yes, don't you?" Desperation made her voice raw. "What if I saw Dave last night? He was walking on the trail, okay? I'll swear to that on a stack of Bibles."

Will didn't believe her, but he said, "Okay."

"Dave used to beat Mercy. You both know that. Whatever alibi he has, that can be broken, right? So if I saw him on the trail before she was murdered …"

Keisha stood up, so Will did, too.

She said, "Jesus Christ, I just need to move. Where would I go?"

He watched her pace the small room until Sara caught his eye. He could tell she was conflicted. He could also tell her presence was distracting him. Keisha was angry and upset. Will didn't need to be worrying about Sara. He needed all of his attention to be placed on the possible accomplice to murder.

"Tell me what to say," Keisha begged. "Just tell me what to say and I'll say it."

"Keisha." Will waited for her to look at him. "When I brought everybody out to the compound to tell them that Mercy was dead. Do you remember what happened?"

"What?" she looked perplexed. "Of course I remember what happened. What are you talking about?"

"Drew said something to Bitty."

Her gaze locked onto his, but she didn't say anything.

Will said, "Drew told Bitty, ‘Forget about that other business. Do whatever you want up here. We don't care.'"

Keisha crossed her arms. She was a textbook example of someone with something to hide.

"What did Drew mean?" Will asked. "What was that other business?"

She didn't answer the question. She was looking for a way out. "We can make a trade, right? That's how it works?"

"How what works?"

"You need somebody to pin this on. Why not Chuck?" She was genuinely asking him the question. "Or one of the app guys? Or Frank? Leave Drew alone."

"Keisha, that's not how I work."

"Said every dirty cop ever."

"All I want to know is who killed Mercy."

"Chuck has the motive," Keisha said. "You saw how he freaked Mercy out. We all saw it. You wanna know who was here two and a half months ago? Chuck. He's always here. He's creepy as fuck. Sara, you know what I'm talking about. Dude gives off rapey vibes. Women know it. Ask your partner right now. Better yet, put her in a room alone with Chuck for five minutes and she'll see for herself."

Will gently nudged her away from Chuck. "What are you trying to trade?"

"Information," she said. "Something that gives a motive—that gives Chuck a motive."

Will wasn't going to tell her what had happened to Chuck, but he had learned a long time ago that people were drawn to solving puzzles. Even if the solution didn't necessarily benefit them. "Both Chuck and Christopher had a couple hundred grand in their bank accounts."

"Are you shitting me?" Keisha looked astounded. "Jesus, they were on to something."

"What were they on to?"

"No." She started shaking her head. "I'm not saying another word until Drew is standing beside me. Unharmed. Do you understand?"

"Keisha—"

"No, sir. Not another word."

She sat down on the couch, hugging her arms to her waist, staring at the door like she was praying for her husband to walk through.

Will tried again, "Keisha."

"If I ask for a lawyer, if I make that request, you've got to stop asking me questions, right?"

"Right."

"Then don't make me ask for a lawyer."

Will relented. "My partner's going to come in to sit with you."

"No," Keisha said. "Where am I gonna go, man? I'd already be off this mountain if I could. I don't need a fucking babysitter."

He said, "If you want to make a deal, then you need to keep what I said about Mercy's pregnancy to yourself."

"And you need to keep out of my goddam way."

Will opened the door. Faith was still on the porch. They both watched Keisha go into her cottage. Faith asked Will, "What do you think?"

He shook his head. He didn't know what to think. "Christopher and Chuck were in a business with Mercy. Drew knew about it. Now Chuck and Mercy are dead."

She said, "So go talk to Christopher and Drew?"

He nodded. "Kevin's already down at the lake. You want to come?"

"I want to get this map straightened out. Something's not right on the timing."

Will had seen what Faith could do with a timeline. "I'll let you know if I need you."

He held the door open for Sara. She walked onto the porch. He felt his teeth clench as he followed her toward the Loop Trail. The walk to the cottage would take about ten minutes. He would use the time to explain to her why she needed to stay the hell in her own lane. She had been a distraction while he was interrogating Keisha. Will couldn't let that happen again.

Sara was oblivious to what was coming. She strolled onto the Loop, nodding toward cottage five. Paul and Gordon were on opposite ends of the hammock on their front porch. Gordon tossed them a wave. Paul drank straight from a bottle of alcohol.

The door to cottage seven creaked open. Monica came out, squinting in the sunlight. She was wearing a black nightgown and holding a glass of what was probably alcohol, because apparently Sara was right about drinking being the only thing to do up here.

Sara changed her trajectory. She headed toward Monica, asking, "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you." Monica looked down at the glass in her hand. "You were right. This took the edge off."

"Do you mind if I have a taste?"

Monica looked as surprised as Will felt, but she handed Sara the glass anyway.

He watched her take a sip. She grimaced. "That burns."

"You get used to it." Monica gave a sad laugh. "Don't take drinking advice from me. I need to apologize to both of you for my behavior last night. And this morning. The entire time, really."

"You have nothing to feel guilty about." Sara handed back the glass. "At least not as far as we're concerned."

Will wasn't sure about that. He told Monica, "I need to ask you about last night, just before midnight."

"Did I hear anything?" Monica asked. "I was passed out in the bathtub when the bell started clanging. I thought it was the fire alarm. I couldn't find Frank."

Will felt his teeth grit. "Where was he?"

"I guess he was sitting on the back porch, taking a break from my antics. He came through the French doors in a panic." Monica shook her head with sorrow. "I honestly don't know why he stays with me."

Will was more concerned with Frank's alibi. This was the second time he'd lied. "Where's Frank now?"

"He went down to the dining hall to find some ginger ale. My stomach's still not great."

Will guessed that Frank would bring back word of Chuck's death, which would bring its own set of problems. "Tell him I need to talk to him."

Monica nodded, telling Sara, "Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it."

Sara squeezed her hand. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Will followed Sara back toward the Loop Trail. He was glad that her pace was quicker this time. She wasn't going on a stroll. Will worked to get a plan straight in his head. He would leave Sara at their cottage, then continue down to the lake. He would check in with Kevin and figure out an approach to Drew and Christopher, because no matter what Keisha said, Drew wasn't entirely in the clear. He had obviously known about the business. The knife handle had been found in his toilet. He had immediately invoked his rights, which was technically his right, but it was also Will's right to be suspicious.

The best thing to do was work Christopher and Drew off each other. Kevin could take Drew to the boathouse. The man was probably going to lawyer up again. Will could keep Christopher at the shed. Mercy's brother wasn't as sophisticated as Drew. He would be terrified that Drew was talking. Will would put it into his ear that the first rat gets the cheese. Hopefully, Christopher would panic and not realize until it was too late that he should've kept his mouth shut.

Will stuck his hand in his pocket. He watched Sara walk ahead of him. He needed to make sure she stayed in the cottage, which meant he was going to have to have a very uncomfortable conversation before they got there.

He said, "You shouldn't have been in the room with me and Keisha. I was conducting an interview and you threw me off my game."

Sara glanced up at him. "I'm sorry. I didn't think about that. You're right. Let's talk about it back at the cottage."

Will hadn't expected this to be easy, but he took the win. "You need to pack. I want you off this mountain before nightfall."

"And I want your hand to not get infected, but here we are."

This was more what he'd been expecting. "Sara—"

"I've got some antibiotics at the cottage. We can talk about—"

"My hand is fine." His hand was killing him. "It's not just about you being in the room. I told you to stay with Faith and you ran off on your own. What were you doing talking to Keisha by yourself? What if Drew had shown up? Forget about Mercy and Chuck. He has a record of assault."

She stopped in the middle of the trail. She looked up at him. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, what about you drinking in the middle of the day? Is that something you're going to start doing?"

"Jesus," she whispered.

"Jesus yourself." Will caught a whiff of alcohol on her breath. "You smell like lighter fluid."

Sara pressed her lips together. She waited. When he didn't speak, she asked, "Are you finished?"

Will shrugged. "What else is there to say?"

"When I ran off on my own, I found Jon. He's staying in cottage nine, which is over there. I don't want him hearing what I have to say."

Will looked over the top of her head. He could see the sloped shingled roof nestled in the trees. "I searched it this morning when I was looking for Dave. Jon must've gone there after I left."

Sara didn't comment. She started back down the trail. Will followed behind her again. He wondered if Jon was still in the cabin, and if so, how much he'd heard. Will had only raised his voice about the alcohol. He knew that he was too uptight about drinking. But it had been strange that Sara had taken a sip from Monica's glass. Which made him start wondering what Sara had meant when she'd told Will that she didn't want Jon hearing what she had to say.

He didn't have to wait much longer. Sara stopped a few yards from their own cottage. She looked up at him. "The side-business that Mercy, Christopher and Chuck are involved in. What are your theories?"

He hadn't gone into the theories yet. "The property is buffered by a state and national forest. Maybe illegal timber harvesting?"

"Timber?"

"The woodpile has some expensive species—chestnut, maple, acacia."

"Okay, that makes sense." Sara was nodding her head. "The app guys told me the bourbon tasted like turpentine. Monica is drinking top-shelf whiskey, but it tastes and smells like lighter fluid. She was on the edge of alcohol poisoning last night, but both she and Frank were surprised because usually she can handle it better. And twenty minutes ago, Keisha asked me if we'd tried the liquor. She warned me off it, and then launched into a speech about liability if a guest has to be airlifted off the mountain."

Will felt blind for not putting it together sooner. "You think the business Chuck and Christopher were talking about is selling bootleg liquor."

"Keisha and Drew run a catering business. They would notice if the alcohol was off. Maybe they brought it up with Cecil and Bitty. Some of the higher-end brands have a smokey flavor. Oak, mesquite—"

"Chestnut, maple, acacia?"

"Yes."

Will kept going back to the conversation he'd heard on the trail behind the dining hall. "Chuck told Christopher, ‘A lot of people are depending on us'. Amanda said Chuck's social media puts him in a lot of strip clubs."

"Where there's usually a two-drink minimum."

Will asked, "Do you think Drew went to Bitty because they wanted a piece?"

"I don't think so," Sara said. "Maybe I'm giving them too much of the benefit of the doubt, but Keisha and Drew loved it up here. It seems more likely they were trying to stop it. Keisha flagged the liability. She warned me off drinking anything. I don't see her going in to something where she knows that people could die. Plus, think about what she said about trading information. She wouldn't give up Drew. She was giving up the bootlegging."

"Their credit check came back clean. They're not sitting on piles of cash." Will rubbed his jaw. He was still missing something. "The thing that's not adding up is, why kill Mercy and Chuck when you can kill Drew?"

"You're the one who likes a money motive," Sara said. "With Mercy and Chuck gone, Christopher gets whatever money is in the pot, plus he gets the business to himself. Then he ties up Drew with a murder charge."

Will pulled out his phone, he pressed the walkie. "Kevin, update?"

"Just a couple of dudes sitting by the lake drinking some beers."

Will caught Sara's worried expression. Chuck's water had been spiked with some kind of poison and now the guy who had the most access to Chuck had served Drew a beer. "Kevin, try to keep them from drinking anything, but don't let them know what you're doing."

"On it."

Will started to go, but then he remembered Sara.

"Go," she said. "I'll stay here."

Will clipped the phone on his belt as he ran toward the lake. He passed the fork, the lookout bench. He didn't know much about liquor, but he knew everything about the state and federal laws restricting the unlicensed manufacture, transportation, distribution, and sale of alcohol. The question he needed to answer most was how they were doing it. Testing the bottles of alcohol on the property would take weeks. Were they substituting cheaper stuff for top-shelf, which would cost them their liquor license and a heavy fine? Or were they making it themselves, which broke all kinds of state and federal laws?

Will took the dogleg down toward the shed. He could see ahead to the lake. There were two empty lawn chairs, each with a can of beer in the plastic cupholder. Kevin was lying on the ground holding his leg. Christopher and Drew were standing over him. Will's heart felt like it had been sucked into a vacuum hose, but then he realized that Kevin had found a way to keep the men from drinking.

Kevin accepted Will's hand to help him up. "Sorry guys, I get these bad leg cramps."

Drew looked skeptical. "Fish, I'm heading back. Thanks for the beer."

Christopher tipped his hat as Drew walked toward the trail. Will nodded for Kevin to follow. Drew was not going to be happy when Keisha told him that she'd talked to Will.

"So?" Christopher said. "What is it? Did Dave confess?"

Will figured the news was already out. "Dave didn't kill your sister."

"Well." Christopher's expression was unchanged. "I knew he'd manage to squirm out of it eventually. Did Bitty give him an alibi?"

"No, Mercy did." Will had been expecting at least some surprise, but Christopher gave him nothing. "Your sister called Dave before she died. Her voicemail rules him out."

Christopher looked out at the lake. "That's surprising. What did Mercy say?"

"That she needed Dave's help."

"Also surprising. Dave never once helped Mercy when she was alive."

"Did you help her?"

Christopher didn't respond. He crossed his arms as he stared at the water.

Will said nothing. In his experience, people couldn't tolerate silence.

Evidently, Christopher was immune. He kept his arms crossed, his eyes on the lake, and his mouth closed.

Will had to find another way to rattle the man.

He looked back at the equipment shed. The doors were propped wide open. The knives were in the same place as before, but they looked sharper in the light of day. The blades weren't Will's only concern. A paddle to the head or a punch to the gut with one of the wooden handles on a net could do a lot of damage. Not to mention that Christopher probably had the same fishing gear in his pockets as Chuck. A folding line management tool. A folding fisherman's multi-tool. A retractable tether. A pocketknife.

Will only had one hand. The other one was hot and throbbing because Sara was right about the infection. Then again, the hand that wasn't infected was in easy reach of a Smith and Wesson snub-nosed revolver.

He went inside the shed. He started loudly opening cabinets and drawers.

Christopher rushed inside, clearly distressed. "What are you doing? Stay out of there."

"I've got a search warrant for the property." Will raked open another drawer. "If you want to read the warrant, you can go back to the compound and ask my partner to show it to you."

"Wait!" Christopher was rattled now. He started closing the drawers. "Hold on, what are you looking for? I can tell you where it is."

"What would I be looking for?"

"I don't know," he said. "But this is my shed. Everything in here is there because I put it there."

He seemed to realize a second too late that he'd just taken ownership of whatever Will found.

Will asked, "What do you think I'm looking for?"

Christopher shook his head.

Will walked around the shed like he'd never seen it before. He kept his eye out for any sudden movements from Christopher. The man came across as passive, but that could easily change. What struck Will about the shed was that everything was back in its place. Early this morning, Will hadn't been gentle when he'd rifled around looking for a way to tie up Dave. The tools had been returned to their outlined spots. The nets hung at the same intervals along the back wall. The daylight streaming in gave Will a clear view of the hasp lock to the room in the back. And the well-worn padlock.

"Look," Christopher said. "Guests aren't allowed in here. Let's go back outside."

Will turned to face him. "There's some interesting species of wood you've got stored up by the house."

Christopher's throat made a gulping sound. He'd started to sweat. Will hoped like hell this wasn't another eye drop situation. He wanted to move this along quickly. He decided to take a risk.

He said, "Last night when we all went in to dinner, you stayed outside with Mercy."

Christopher's face remained impassive, but he said, "So?"

Will guessed the risk had paid off. "What did you talk to her about?"

Christopher didn't answer. His eyes went to the floor.

Will repeated his question. "What did you talk to Mercy about?"

He shook his head, but said, "The sale, of course. I'm sure you've heard about it from Papa and Bitty."

Will nodded, though he hadn't talked to the parents yet. "Do you know what else they told me?"

"It's no secret. Mercy was blocking the sale. She was hoping that I would join her, but I'm tired. I don't want to do this anymore."

"That's what you told Chuck, isn't it?" Will's brain was imprinted with the conversation the two men had had on the trail. "You said that you never wanted to do it in the first place. That it didn't work without Mercy. That you needed her."

Christopher finally looked surprised. "He told you that?"

Will studied the man's face. The surprise seemed genuine, but Will had learned the hard way not to trust a potential psychopath. "You don't really need the money from the sale, do you?"

Christopher licked his lips. "What do you mean?"

"You're pretty set, right?"

"I don't know what you're trying to say."

"You've got a couple hundred grand in a money market. Paid off your student loans. Chuck is in the same boat. How did that happen?"

Christopher's eyes went to the floor again. "We've both made some savvy investments."

"But you don't have any investment or brokerage accounts in your names. You're not officers in any corporations. Your only job is being a fishing guide with your family's business. So where did the money come from?"

"Bitcoin."

"Is that what your taxes will say?"

Christopher cleared his throat loudly. "You'll find paystubs from the family trust. It's part of my profit-sharing."

Will guessed he would find evidence of money laundering. That was probably where Mercy came in. "Dave's part of the family trust, right? Where's his money?"

"I'm not in charge of who gets what."

"Who is?"

Christopher cleared his throat again.

"Mercy wasn't getting her portion of the profit-sharing. She doesn't have a bank account. She doesn't have any credit cards or a driver's license. She had nothing. Why is that?"

He shook his head. "I have no idea."

"What's back here?" Will knocked on the wall. The nets banged against the wood. "What am I going to find when I break open this door?"

"Don't break it. Please." Christopher's eyes stayed on the floor. "The key is in my pocket."

Will didn't know if the man was truly complying or if this was some kind of trick. He made a show of resting his hand on the butt of the revolver. "Empty all of your pockets onto the bench."

Christopher started with his fishing vest, then worked his way down to his cargo shorts. He laid an array of tools on the counter that were the exact same brand and color as the ones Chuck had kept in his pockets. He even carried a tube of Carmex lip balm. The only thing missing was a bottle of Eads Clear eye drops.

The last item Christopher placed on the counter was a ring of keys. There were four in all, which was strange considering none of the doors at the lodge locked. Will recognized a Ford ignition key. A barrel key that probably opened a safe. The remaining two keys were of the smaller padlock variety with black plastic grips. One had a yellow dot. The other had a green one.

Will kept his hand on the revolver as he stepped back from the wall. "Open it."

Christopher's head stayed down. Will made sure to watch his hands because the man was clearly not going to convey his intentions through facial expressions. Christopher selected the key with the yellow dot, slid it into the lock, pulled back the hasp, opened the door.

The first thing Will noticed was the smell of stale smoke. Then he saw the pieces of foil where they'd been test-burning combinations of wood. There were oak barrels. Copper tanks. Spiraling pipes and tubes. They weren't putting cheap liquor in expensive bottles. They were making their own.

"There's two keys," Will said. "Where's the other still?"

Christopher would not look up from the floor.

Will was going to have to rattle him again. Nothing freaked out a man more than feeling the cold metal of a pair of handcuffs ratcheting around his wrists. Will didn't have cuffs, but he knew where Christopher kept the zip ties. He reached down to open the drawer.

Early this morning, Will had felt guilty for leaving the zip ties loose. Sometime between then and now, someone had banded them back together. He assumed that someone was the same man who'd left six empty bottles of Eads Clear eye drops in the drawer.