Chapter 2 Ten Hours Before the Murder

2

Will was quickly starting to understand that there was a big difference between running five miles a day on the streets of Atlanta and hiking up a mountain. Maybe it had been a bad idea to spend almost his entire life training the muscles in his legs for exactly one thing. It didn't help that Sara was springing up the pass like a gazelle. He always derived a great deal of pleasure watching her go through her morning yoga routine. He hadn't realized she was secretly conditioning herself for an Iron Man competition.

He took his water bottle out of his backpack as an excuse to stop. "We should stay hydrated."

The sly smile on her face told him she knew exactly what he was up to. She turned around, taking in the view. "It's so beautiful up here. I forget how nice it is to be surrounded by trees."

"We've got trees in Atlanta."

"Not like this."

Will had to give her that. The long-range mountain view was jaw-dropping if you didn't feel like murder hornets were attacking your calves.

"Thank you for bringing me here." She rested her hands on his shoulders. "This is a perfect way to start our honeymoon."

"Last night was pretty fantastic."

"This, morning, too." She gave him a lingering kiss. "What time do we have to be at the airport?"

He grinned. Sara had been in charge of the wedding. Will was in charge of the honeymoon, and he'd done everything he could to keep it a secret, down to asking her sister to do the packing. Their suitcases had already been shipped to the lodge. He'd told Sara they were going to go for a day hike, enjoy a leisurely picnic, then head back to Atlanta and fly out to their destination.

Will asked, "What time do you want to be at the airport?"

"Is it an overnight flight?"

"Is it?"

"Are we going to be sitting for a long while? Is that why you wanted to get some exercise first?"

"Are we?"

"You can drop the act." She playfully tugged at his ear. "Tessa told me everything."

Will almost fell for it. Sara was incredibly close to her sister, but there was no way Tessa had ratted him out. "Good try."

"I'm going to need to know what to pack," she said, which was valid but also sneaky. "Do I need a swimsuit or do I need a heavy coat?"

"You mean, are we going to the beach or are we going to the Arctic?"

"Are you seriously going to make me wait until tonight?"

Will had been silently weighing the right time to spring their destination on her. Should he wait until they reached the lodge? Should he tell her before they got there? Would she be happy with his choice? She'd mentioned an overnight flight. Did she think they were going somewhere romantic, like Paris? Maybe he should've taken her to Paris. If he donated enough blood, he could probably swing a youth hostel.

"My love." She smoothed her thumb along his brow. "Wherever we end up, I'm going to be happy because I'm with you."

She kissed him again, and he decided now was as good a time as any. At least if she was disappointed, it wouldn't be in front of an audience.

Will said, "Let's sit down."

He helped her with her backpack. The plastic plates clinked against the tin silverware as it hit the ground. They'd already stopped for lunch overlooking a meadow full of grazing horses. Will had gotten fancy sandwiches from the French pastry shop in Atlanta, which had cemented his belief that he was not a fancy sandwich man.

But Sara had been delighted, which was all that mattered.

He gently took her hand as they sat on the ground across from each other. Will's thumb automatically went to her ring finger. He played with the thin wedding band that had joined the ring that had belonged to his mother. Will thought about the ceremony, the feeling of euphoria he still hadn't been able to shake. Faith, his partner at the GBI, had stood with him. He'd danced with his boss, Amanda, because she was more like a mother to Will, if your mother was the type of person who would shoot you in the leg so the bad guys would get to you first while she sprinted away.

Sara asked, "Will?"

He felt an awkward smile on his mouth. Out of nowhere, he was nervous. He didn't want to disappoint her. He didn't want to put too much pressure on her, either. The lodge could've been a terrible idea. She could end up hating it.

She said, "Tell me your favorite part about the wedding."

Will felt some of the awkwardness leave his smile. "Your dress was beautiful."

"That's sweet," she said. "My favorite part was when everybody left and you fucked me against the wall."

His laugh was more like a guffaw. "Can I change my answer?"

She gently touched her fingers to the side of his face. "Tell me."

Will took a deep breath and forced himself to get out of his head. "When I was a kid, there was a church group that did summer activities with the children's home. They'd take us to Six Flags or we'd go to the Varsity for hot dogs or to see a movie or whatever."

Sara's smile softened. She knew that his life at the children's home had not been easy.

"They also sponsored kids for summer camp. Two weeks in the mountains. I never got to go, but the kids who did—it's all they talked about for the whole rest of the year. Canoeing and fishing and hiking. All that stuff."

Sara pressed together her lips. She was doing the math. Will had spent eighteen years in the system. Not being able to go to the camp at least once was statistically improbable.

Will explained, "They gave you passages from the Bible to memorize. You had to recite it in front of the whole church. If you got the lines right, then you got to go."

He saw her throat work.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Leave it to Will to make Sara cry on their honeymoon. "It was my choice, not because of my dyslexia. I could memorize the verses, but I didn't want to speak in front of people. They were trying to help us come out of our shells, I think? Like, learn how to speak to strangers or give a presentation or—"

She gripped his hand.

"Anyway." He had to move this along. "I heard about the camp at the end of every summer—kids wouldn't shut up about it—and I thought it would be nice to go there. Not camping, because I know you hate camping."

"I do."

"But there's an eco lodge that you can hike into. You can't reach it by car. It's been in the same family for years. They have guides who take you mountain biking and fishing and paddle boarding and—"

She interrupted him with a kiss. "I love everything about it."

"Are you sure?" Will asked. "Because it's not just for me. I booked you a massage, and there's sunrise yoga by the lake. Plus, there's no Wi-Fi or television or cell reception."

"Holy shit." She looked genuinely astonished. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to fuck you against every wall in the cottage."

"We get our own cottage?"

"Hello!"

They both turned at the sound. A man and a woman were twenty yards down the trail. They were dressed in hiking attire and carrying backpacks that were so new Will wondered if they had taken off the tags in their car.

The man called, "Are you guys going to the lodge? We're lost."

"We're not lost," the woman muttered. They were both wearing wedding rings, but Will got the feeling from the sharp look she gave her husband that that was up for debate. "There's only one trail in and out, right?"

Sara looked at Will. He'd been leading the hike, and there actually was just one trail, but he wasn't going to get in the middle of things.

"I'm Sara," she told the couple. "This is my husband, Will."

Will cleared his throat as he stood up. She'd never called him her husband before.

The man looked up at Will. "Wow, what're you, six-three? Six-four?"

Will didn't answer, but the man didn't seem to mind.

"I'm Frank. This is Monica. Mind if we go together?"

"Sure." Sara picked up her backpack. The look she gave Will was an unsubtle reminder that there was a difference between an awkward silence and being rude.

"So," he said. "Nice day, right? Good weather."

Frank said, "I heard there might be a storm."

Monica muttered under her breath.

"This way, right?" Frank took the lead, walking in front of Sara. The trail was narrow, so Will had no choice but to bring up the rear behind Monica. Judging by the huffing noises, the woman was not enjoying the hike. Nor was she prepared. Her Skecher slip-ons kept slipping on the rocks.

"… got the idea to come here," Frank was saying. "I mean, I love the outdoors, but work keeps me very busy."

Monica huffed again. Will looked over her head at Frank. The man had used some kind of spray on his bald spot to cover the bright pink of his scalp. Sweat had washed the dye down his collar, leaving a dark ring.

"… and then Monica said, ‘If you promise to stop talking about it, I'll go.'" Frank's voice had taken on the cadence of a hammer drill. "And so, I had to schedule time off work, which isn't easy. I've got a team of eight guys answering to me."

Will guessed from the way Frank was talking that he made less money than his wife. And that it bothered him. He looked at his watch. The lodge's website said that guests usually took two hours to hike in. Will and Sara had stopped for lunch, so maybe they had another ten or fifteen minutes to go. Or twenty, since Frank's pace was slow.

Sara shot Will a look over her shoulder. She wasn't going to take this bullet for the team. Will was going to have to make more small talk.

He asked Frank, "How'd you guys hear about this place?"

"Google," Frank said.

Monica muttered, "Thanks, Google."

Frank asked, "What do you guys do?"

Will watched Sara straighten her shoulders. A few weeks ago, they had agreed that no matter where they went, it would be easier to lie about their jobs. Will didn't want to be valorized or denigrated for wearing a badge. Sara didn't want to listen to weird medical complaints or wildly dangerous vaccine theories.

Before she could lose her nerve, he said, "I'm a mechanic. My wife teaches high school chemistry."

He saw Sara smile. This was the first time Will had called her his wife.

"Oh, I sucked at science stuff," Frank said. "Monica's a dentist. Did you take chemistry, Monica?"

Monica grunted rather than answer. She was Will's kind of people.

Frank said, "I do IT for the Afmeten Insurance Group. No one's ever heard of them, don't worry. We deal with mostly high net-worth individuals and institutional investors."

Sara said, "Oh look, more hikers."

Will felt his stomach tying itself into a knot at the thought of more people. The second man and woman must've slipped ahead on the trail while Sara and Will were having lunch. The couple was older, probably in their mid-fifties, but more determined and better equipped to make the hike.

They both smiled as they waited for the group to catch up.

The man said, "Y'all must be heading toward the McAlpine Lodge. I'm Drew, this is my partner, Keisha."

Will waited for his turn to shake hands, trying not to think back to the blissful moments he'd had alone with Sara. His brain was throwing up images from the McAlpine Lodge website. Chef-prepared meals. Curated hikes. Fly-fishing excursions. There were always two or three couples enjoying themselves in each photo. It was only now that Will realized the couples had probably not known each other before arriving at the lodge.

He was going to end up paddle boarding with Frank.

Keisha said, "You just missed Landry and Gordon. They sprinted on ahead of us to the lodge. It's their first time. They're app developers."

"Really?" Frank asked. "Did they mention which app?"

"We were all too caught up in the view to talk about anything else." Drew rested his hand on Keisha's hip. "We made a pledge that we're not gonna talk about work the whole week. Y'all wanna join in?"

"Absolutely," Sara said. "Should we go?"

Will had never loved her more.

They all fell silent as they followed the winding trail up the mountain. The trees thickened overhead. The path narrowed again so they went back to single file. There was a well-maintained wooden footbridge over a rushing stream. Will looked down at the churning water. He wondered how often it flooded the bank, but he let the question go when Frank started verbally debating himself on the differences between creeks and rivers. Sara gave a pained smile at Will as Frank yapped on like a toy poodle at her heels. Will had somehow ended up second from last. Drew was in front of him. Monica took up the rear, head down, feet still slipping on the rocks. Will hoped she'd shipped some hiking boots to the lodge. He was wearing his HAIX tactical boots. He could probably scale the side of a building. If his calves didn't explode.

Frank finally stopped talking when they had to navigate a rocky section. Thankfully, the silence continued as the path widened and the going got smoother. Sara managed to drop back behind Frank so that she could talk to Keisha. Soon, both women were laughing. Will loved the easy way Sara had about her. She could find common ground with almost anybody. Will, not so much, but he was mindful that they were going to be surrounded by these people for the next six days. And also of the look that Sara had given him earlier. She needed him to carry his side of the conversation. The only time Will was good at small talk was when he was sitting across the table from a suspect.

He thought about his four fellow guests, wondering what kind of criminals they would hypothetically be. Considering the hefty cost of the lodge, he assumed at least three of them would lean more toward white-collar crimes. Frank would definitely be embroiled in something to do with crypto. Keisha had the sly, competent look of an embezzler. Drew reminded Will of a guy he'd busted for running a Ponzi scheme involving nutritional supplements. That left Monica, who legitimately looked like she was going to murder Frank. Of the group, Will figured she'd be the one most likely to get away with it. She'd have an alibi. She'd have a lawyer. She sure as hell wouldn't sit for an interview.

And he would have a hard time blaming her for the crime.

"Will," Drew said. Which was how you started a conversation when you weren't gaming out criminals in your head. "First time at the lodge?"

"Yeah." Will kept his voice low because Drew had. "You?"

"Third time. We love it up there." His looped his thumbs through the straps on his backpack. "Keisha and I own a catering business on the West Side. Hard to clock out. She dragged me kicking and screaming the first time. Couldn't believe there was no phone or internet. Thought I was gonna go into shock by the end of the day. But then—"

Will watched him stretch out his arms and take a deep, cleansing breath.

Drew said, "Being in nature resets you. Know what I mean?"

Will nodded, but he had some concerns. "So, everything at the lodge is done in groups?"

"Meals are communal. The activities are limited to four guests per guide."

Will did not like those odds. "How is that assigned?"

"You can ask for a specific couple," Drew said. "Why do you think I dropped back to talk to you?"

Will guessed it was pretty obvious. "There's really no internet? No reception?"

"Not for us." Drew was grinning. "They've got a landline for emergencies. The staff has access to Wi-Fi, but they aren't allowed to give out the password. Believe me, that first time, I tried to wear them down, but Papa runs a tight ship."

"Papa?"

"Wowza!" Frank yelled.

Will saw a deer darting across the path. A large clearing was a hundred yards on. Sunlight poured through the gap. Will saw a rainbow arcing across the blue sky. It was like something out of a movie. All that was missing was a singing nun. He felt his heart slow in his chest. A calmness took over. Sara was looking at him again, a huge smile on her face. Will let go of a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

She was happy.

"Here." Drew handed a map to Will. "It's old, but it'll help you get your bearings."

Old was an accurate description. The map looked like something from the seventies, with press-on letters and line drawings to indicate various points of interest. An irregular loop lassoed around the top quadrant, with dashed lines indicating smaller trails. Will spotted the footbridge where they'd crossed over the creek. The scale had to be off. They'd walked for at least twenty minutes to get here. He guessed by the McAlpine stamp at the bottom that the owners hadn't been going for accuracy.

He studied the images as he walked. The sprawling house at the bottom of the lasso looked central to the property. He assumed the smaller houses were the cottages. Each was numbered one through ten. An octagonal building served as the dining hall, judging by the plate and silverware drawn beside it. Another trail led to a waterfall with clusters of fish jumping through the air. Another had an equipment shed with canoes. Yet another trail meandered toward a boathouse. The lake was shaped like a snowman leaning against a wall. The head was apparently the area for swimming. There was a floating dock. What looked like a scenic viewpoint had a bench overlooking the vista.

Will noted with interest that there was only one access road, which ended near the main house. He assumed the road crossed the creek somewhere near the footbridge and wound its way down into town. The family wasn't carrying in supplies on their backs. A place this size would need bulk deliveries and a way to get staff in and out. Plus water and electricity. He assumed the landline was buried. No one wanted to get trapped inside an Agatha Christie novel.

"Damn," Drew said. "Never gets old."

Will looked up. They had entered the clearing. The main house was a hodge-podge of bad architecture. The second story looked slapped on. The ground floor had brick on one side and clapboard on the other. There seemed to be two main entrances, one at the front and one at the side. A third, smaller set of stairs went up the back, along with a wheelchair ramp. A spacious, wrap-around porch was doing its best to lend some architectural cohesion, but there was no explanation for the mismatched windows. Some of the more narrow slits reminded Will of the cells inside the Fulton County Jail.

An outdoorsy-looking woman with blonde hair tightly tied behind her head stood at the bottom of the side porch stairs. She was dressed in cargo shorts and a white button-down shirt with lavender-colored Nikes. The table beside her held an array of snacks, cups of water, and glasses of champagne. Will checked behind him to make sure Monica was still there. She'd come alive at the sight of the table. She passed Will at the home stretch, grabbed a glass of champagne and downed it in one gulp.

"I'm Mercy McAlpine, the manager of the McAlpine Family Lodge," the outdoorsy woman told the group. "Three generations of McAlpines live here on the property. We all wanna welcome you to our home. If I could have your attention for a moment, I'll quickly run through a few of the rules and some safety information, then I'll get to the fun parts."

Predictably, Sara stood at the front, listening intently like the beautiful nerd she was. Frank stayed glued to her side. Keisha and Drew hung back with Will like the bad kids in class. Monica took another glass of champagne and sat on the bottom stair. A muscular-looking cat rubbed against her leg. Will saw a second cat fall over onto the ground and roll on its back. He guessed the app developers, Landry and Gordon, had already gone through the orientation and were blissfully alone.

"In the unlikely event of an emergency—a fire, or dangerous weather—you'll hear us clanging on this bell." Mercy pointed to a large bell hanging on a post. "If you hear the bell, we ask you to stage at the parking pad on the other side of the house."

Will alternated between brownie bites and potato chips as Mercy detailed the evacuation plan. Then it started to feel too much like a briefing at work, so he tuned out her voice and looked around the compound. It reminded him of college campuses he'd seen on television. Ceramic pots overflowed with flowers. There were park benches and grassy areas and pavers where he imagined the cats enjoyed the sun.

Eight cottages were nestled inside their own little garden areas around the main house. Will guessed the other two were on the back end of the lasso. Which meant that the family probably lived together in the main house. Will assumed from the size that there were at least six bedrooms on the top floor. He couldn't imagine choosing to live on top of people like that. Then again, Sara's sister lived one floor below her condo, so maybe Will was thinking too much of the Atlanta Children's Home and not enough of the Waltons.

"Now," Mercy said. "The fun part."

She started passing around folders. Three couples, three sets. Sara eagerly flipped hers open. She loved an informational packet. Will felt his attention being pulled back toward Mercy as she ran through how the activities worked, where they were supposed to meet, what equipment would be provided. Her face was unremarkable but for the long scar that ran from her forehead, over her eyelid, down the side of her nose, then took a sharp turn toward her jaw line.

Will was well versed in the scars that came from violence. A fist or shoe couldn't be that precise. The blade of a knife couldn't be that straight. A baseball bat could cause a linear wound, but the scar tended to be rippled at the deepest point of impact. If Will had to guess, a piece of sharp metal or glass had caused the damage. That meant either an industrial accident or something involving a car.

"Cottage assignments." Mercy looked down at her clipboard. "Sara and Will are at the end of the lane in number ten. My son, Jon, will show you the way."

Mercy turned toward the house, a warm smile softening her face. The affection was lost on the kid, who slowly walked down the porch stairs. He looked to be around sixteen and had the kind of hard muscle that teenage boys packed on simply by existing. Will noted the slow once-over Jon gave Sara. Then the kid brushed back his curly hair and showed her a set of straight white teeth.

"Hi there." Jon walked straight past Frank and focused all of his charm on Sara. "Did you enjoy the hike in?"

"I did, thank you." Sara had always been good with kids, but she was missing the fact that this kid was not looking at her like a kid. "You're a McAlpine, too?"

"Guilty. Third generation living on the mountain." He ran his fingers through his hair again. Maybe he needed a comb. "You can call me Jon. I hope you enjoy your stay on the property."

"Jon." Will stepped in front of Frank. "I'm Will. Sara's husband."

The kid had to crane his neck to look up at Will, but the important part was that he got the message. "This way, sir."

Will gave the hand-drawn map back to Drew, who offered a nod of approval. Not a bad way to start the week. Will had married a beautiful woman. He'd climbed a mountain. He'd made Sara happy. He had intimidated a thirsty teenager.

Jon took them across the compound. He had a goofy way of walking, like he was still learning how to use his body. Will could remember what that felt like, not knowing one day to the next whether you were going to wake up with a mustache or your voice cracking like a tween girl's. He would not go back to that time for all of the money in the world.

They picked up the lasso trail between cottages five and six. The ground was lined with crushed stone. One of the cats darted into the underbrush, probably going after a chipmunk. Will was glad to see that low voltage lighting would help them navigate at night. Darkness in the woods was not the same as darkness in the city. The tree canopy was tight over their heads. He could feel the temperature drop as Jon pulled ahead of them. The terrain started to slope down gradually. Someone had trimmed back the vines and branches around the path, but Will had the feeling of going deep into the forest.

"This is called the Loop Trail." Sara had opened the folder to the map. She had slowed her pace, putting more distance between them and Jon. "Two circles around is roughly one mile. We're on the top half. We can explore the bottom half when we go for supper. We'll probably need ten or fifteen minutes to get to the dining hall."

Will's stomach rumbled.

She flipped the page to the calendar. She looked up at Will in surprise. "You signed both of us up for morning yoga."

"I figured I'd give it a try." Will figured he would look like an ass. "Your sister said you love fishing."

"My sister is right. I haven't been since I moved to Atlanta." She traced her finger across the days. "White water rafting. Mountain biking. I don't see where you signed up for a pissing contest with a teenager."

Will fought a grin. "I think they comp the first one."

"Good. I'd hate for you to pay for a second one."

Will got the message, which Sara softened by looping her arm through his. She leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked. They fell into a companionable silence. Will didn't feel the incline in the trail so much as his calves reminded him that they weren't used to this. The walk was not a short one. He guessed five minutes passed before the terrain got steeper. The trees pulled back. The sky opened up above their heads. He could see the mountains rolling in the distance like a never-ending magic carpet. Will didn't know if it was the changes in elevation or the way the sun was moving, but every time he took in the view, it looked different. The colors were an explosion of greens. The air was so fresh that his lungs felt shaky.

Jon had stopped. He pointed twenty yards ahead to a fork in the trail. "Lake's down that way. You're not supposed to swim after dark. Cottage ten is the farthest away from the main house, but if you go left at the fork, it loops back around to the dining hall."

Will asked, "There used to be a campsite around here, right?"

"Camp Awinita," Jon said.

Sara asked, "Is awinita a native American word?"

"It's Cherokee for fawn, but a guest told me a while back it's supposed to be two words, and spelled with a d, like ahwi anida."

Will asked, "Do you know where the camp is?"

"They closed it down when I was little." Jon shrugged as he continued up the trail. "If you're interested in all that stuff, you can ask my grandma Bitty. You'll see her at supper. She knows more about this place than just about anybody."

Will watched Jon disappear around a curve. He let Sara go ahead of him. The view was even better from behind. He studied the shape of her legs. The curve of her ass. The toned muscles along her bare shoulders. Her hair was up in a ponytail. The back of her neck had a sheen of sweat from the hike. Will was sweaty, too. They should probably take a long shower together before dinner.

"Oh, wow." Sara was looking up an offshoot from the trail.

Will followed her gaze. Jon was climbing a set of stone stairs that looked like they had been etched into the hill for Glorfindel. Ferns crowded at the edges. Moss covered the adjacent stones. At the top was a small cottage with rustic board and batten siding. Colorful flowers spilled from the window boxes. There was a hammock swaying on the front porch. Will could've spent the next ten years trying to make something this perfect and never come close.

"It's like a fairy tale." Sara's voice had a winsome quality. She was never more beautiful than when she smiled. "I love it."

Jon said, "You can see three states from this ridge."

Sara unclipped the compass from her backpack. She opened the folder, found the map. She pointed into the distance. "I think that must be Tennessee, right?"

"Yes, ma'am." Jon walked back down the stairs to do his own pointing. "That's the eastern slope of Lookout Mountain. There's a bench on the lake trail called the lookout bench where you can see it better. We're in the Cumberland Plateau."

"Which means that Alabama is that way." Sara pointed behind Will. "And North Carolina is way over there."

Will turned around. All he could see was millions and millions of trees undulating across the mountain range. He pivoted, catching the glare as the afternoon sun turned part of the lake into a mirror. From above, the expanse looked less like a snowman and more like a giant amoeba that disappeared into the curve of the earth.

Jon said, "That's the Shallows. The water comes off the mountaintops, so it's still a little cold this time of year."

Sara held the folder open like a book. She read, "Lake McAlpine spreads out over four hundred acres, with depths up to sixty-eight feet. The Shallows, located at the end of the Lake Trail, is less than fifteen feet, which makes this area ideal for swimming. There are smallmouth bass, walleye, bluegill and yellow perch. Eighty percent of the lake sits in a conservation easement that can never be developed. The lodge compound is abutted by the 750,000-acre Muscogee State Forest to the west and the 800,000-acre Cherokee National Forest to the east."

Jon said, "Cherokee and Muscogee are two of the tribes that were in this area. The lodge was founded after the Civil War, seven generations of McAlpines ago."

Will assumed the land had come at a literal steal. The original inhabitants were removed from their home and forced to march west. Most of them had died on the journey.

Sara referred to the map. "What about this part along the creek, Lost Widow Trail?"

"That's way down a steep hill to the very backside of the lake," Jon said. "The story is, the first Cecil McAlpine who started this place had his throat slit by some bad guys. His wife thought he was dead. She disappeared down that trail. Only, he didn't die, but she didn't know that. He searched for days, but she was lost to him for ever."

"You know a lot about this place," Sara said.

"My grandma drilled it into me every single day when I was a kid. She loves it here." Jon shrugged, but Will caught the blush of pride on his face. "Ready?"

Jon didn't wait for a response. He walked up the stairs and swung open the front door to the cottage. There was no key. All of the windows were already open to take advantage of the breeze.

Sara was smiling again. "It's beautiful, Will. Thank you."

"Suitcases are already in your room." Jon started a clearly practiced routine. "Coffeemaker's there. Pods are in the box there. Mugs are hanging from the hooks. There's a small fridge under the counter with all the stuff you asked for."

Will looked around the space as Jon pointed out the obvious. He'd booked the two-bedroom cottage because the view was supposed to be better. The additional cost meant he'd probably have to pack his own lunch for the next year, but judging by Sara's reaction, it was worth it.

He was pretty pleased with the choice himself. The main area of the cottage was big enough for a couch and two club chairs. The leather looked worn and comfortable. The corded rug underfoot was springy soft. The lamps were mid-century modern. Everything seemed thoughtfully placed and had an air of quality to it. Will assumed if you took the time to haul something up a mountain, you wanted to make sure it would last.

He followed Jon and Sara into the larger bedroom. Their suitcases were on the bed, which was high off the ground and covered in a dark blue velvet blanket. Another soft rug. Matching lamps. Another comfortable leather chair in the corner with a side table.

Will stuck his head into the bathroom, surprised by the contemporary feel. White marble, modern, industrial-looking fixtures. There was a large soaking tub in front of a huge window that overlooked the valley. Will couldn't think of any additional ways to describe the breathtaking view, so he thought about sitting in the tub with Sara and decided it was worth a year of PB&Js for lunch.

Jon said, "One of us makes a loop on the trail at eight in the morning and then again at ten in the evening. If you need something, leave a note on the steps under the rock, or wait on your porch and you'll see us walk by. Otherwise you gotta hoof it back to the lodge. Can I get you anything else?"

"We're good, thanks." Will reached for his wallet.

Jon said, "We're not allowed to take tips."

Sara asked, "How about I buy that vape pen in your back pocket?"

Will felt as surprised as Jon looked. Sara had a pediatrician's disgust for vaping. She'd seen too many kids destroy their lungs.

"Please don't tell my mom." Jon lost about five years with the desperate request. His voice squeaked. He turned jittery. "I got it in town today."

She said, "I'll give you twenty for it."

"Really?" Jon was already pulling out the metal pen. It was bright blue with a silver tip, maybe ten bucks at a 7-Eleven. "There's some Red Zeppelin in there. Do you need more cartridges?"

"No, thank you." Sara nodded for Will to pay.

He would've been more comfortable confiscating a tobacco product from an underage minor, but that didn't seem like something a car mechanic would do. Will reluctantly handed over the cash.

"Thanks." Jon carefully folded the twenty. Will could practically see the kid's brain trying to work out how to get more. "We're not supposed to, but if you uh, I mean if you need it, I've got the Wi-Fi password. It won't reach out here, but it goes in the dining hall and—"

Sara said, "No, thank you."

Will opened the door to move the kid along. Jon gave them a salute on his way out. It was hard not to follow him. The Wi-Fi password wouldn't be bad information to have.

Sara asked, "You're not thinking about getting the password, right?"

Will closed the door, pretending to be a man who did not want to know how Atlanta United was doing against FC Cincinnati. He watched Sara take a Ziploc bag out of her backpack. She sealed the vape pen inside, then zipped it back in the front pocket.

She explained, "I don't want Jon getting it out of the trash."

"You know he'll just buy another one."

"Probably," she said. "But not tonight."

Will didn't care what Jon did. "You like it here?"

"It's lovely. Thank you for bringing me to such a special place." She nodded for him to follow her back into the bedroom. Before he could get his hopes up, she started dialing in the combination on her suitcase. "What am I going to find in here?"

"I got Tessa to pack for you."

"That was very sneaky." Sara unzipped the top of her bag. She opened it, then closed it. "What should we do first? Go down to the lake? Walk around the property? Meet the other guests?"

"We'll both need to shower before dinner."

Sara looked at her watch. "We could take a long soak in the bath, then try out the bed."

"That's a good plan."

"Are these pillows going to work for you?"

Will checked the pillows. The foam was as tight as a seal's ass. He preferred a pancake.

"That part you weren't listening to before—Jon told us there are other types of pillows at the main house." She smiled again. "I could unpack and start running the bath while you get your pillows."

Will kissed her before he left.

The sunlight was dancing off the Shallows when he walked down the stone stairs. He held up his hand to block the light until he made it down to the path. Instead of following the Loop Trail back to the main compound, Will headed in the direction of the lake to familiarize himself with the way. The scenery changed as he got closer to the water. He could feel moisture in the air. Hear the soft lapping of waves. The sun was lower in the sky. He passed the lookout bench, which, as advertised, looked out. Will felt that same peacefulness envelope him. Drew was right about getting a reset from being in nature. And Sara was right about the trees. Everything felt different here. Slower. Less stressful. It was going to be hard to leave at the end of the week.

Will stared out into the distance, allowing himself a few minutes to blank out his mind and enjoy the moment. He hadn't realized how much tension he'd been holding in his body until it was no longer there. He looked down at the ring on his finger. Except for the Timex on his wrist, he wasn't a jewelry guy, but he liked the dark finish on the titanium ring Sara had picked out for him. They had basically proposed to each other at the same time. Will had read that you were supposed to spend three months of your salary on an engagement ring. Sara's doctor's salary had given him the better part of the bargain.

He should probably be finding ways to thank her for it rather than staring slack-jawed into the distance. Will turned back the way he'd come. He could watch the sun's progress from the bathtub with Sara. She had obviously wanted him out of the cottage for a few minutes. Will worked to turn off his detective brain as he passed by the stone stairs. Sara knew it would've been easier to pick up some new pillows after dinner. She probably wanted to surprise him with something nice. The thought made Will grin as he turned a sharp bend in the trail.

"Hey, Trashcan."

Will looked up. There was a man standing twenty feet away. Smoking a cigarette, spoiling the clean air. Will hadn't been called by that nickname in a long while. It had been given to him at the children's home. There wasn't a clever reason behind it. As an infant, the police had found him inside a trash can.

"Come on, Trash," the man said. "Don't you recognize me?"

Will studied the stranger. He was dressed in painter's pants and a stained white T-shirt. Shorter than Will. Rounder. The yellow in his eyes and the spiderweb of broken blood vessels indicated a long-standing issue with substances. Still, that didn't narrow down his identity. Most of the kids Will had grown up with had struggled with addiction. It was hard not to.

"Are you fucking with me?" The man blew out a stream of smoke as he slowly walked toward Will. "You really don't recognize me?"

Will felt a sense of dread. It was the deliberate slowness that triggered a memory. One minute, Will was standing on a mountain path with a stranger, the next minute, he was sitting in the common room at the children's home watching the boy they all called the Jackal slowly make his way down the stairs. One step. Then the next. His finger dragging along the railing like a sickle.

There was an unwritten rule in adoption circles that you didn't want a child who was older than six. They were too lost after that. Too damaged. Will had seen this play out dozens of times at the children's home. Older kids would go out to foster families or, rarely, adoptions. The ones that came back always had a certain look in their eyes. Sometimes they would tell you their stories. Other times, you could read what had happened by the scars on their bodies. Cigarette burns. The distinctive hook of a wire hanger. The rippled scar of a baseball bat. The bandaged wrists where they had tried to end the misery on their own terms.

They all tried to heal their damage in different ways. Binging and purging. Night terrors. Lashing out. Some couldn't stop cutting themselves. Some disappeared into a pipe or a bottle. Some couldn't control their rage. Others became masters of the awkward silence.

A few learned to weaponize their damage against others. They were given nicknames like the Jackal because they were cunning, aggressive predators. They didn't make friendships. They made strategic alliances that were easily dropped when a better opportunity came along. They lied to your face. Stole your things. Spread shitty rumors about you. Broke into the main office and read your file. Found out what had happened to you, things you didn't even know about yourself. Then they came up with a nickname for you. Like Trashcan. And it followed you around for the rest of your life.

"There it is," the Jackal said. "You remember me now."

Will felt all the tension flood back into his body. "What do you want, Dave?"