Search the Dark. Marta Perry
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It had been an accident, pure and simple. Everyone knew that. As for Sarah asking Meredith to look into it—well, that was just ridiculous, and no more than one could expect from her husband’s relatives.
Meredith couldn’t possibly know anything about what happened the night Aaron drowned in the pond. She hadn’t even been at home. She’d spent the night with another of John’s numerous cousins, at his insistence. If Margo had had her way, Meredith would have had no communication with those people. But John, usually so compliant and eager to please her, had stood firm on that subject.
Margo sifted through memories. Odd, how some incidents formed landmarks in a person’s mind. She remembered that night clearly because of what had happened early the next morning. She’d gone downstairs to find Bill Kramer, his fishing rod still dangling from his hand, pounding on the back door and insisting on using the telephone because someone was dead in the pond.
Margo pulled the silky comforter up to her chin. The accident had probably happened in the late evening, people had said. Meredith hadn’t been home, thank goodness. John hadn’t, either. He’d gone back to the harness shop to work on an order.
Margo’s lips tightened at the remembered grievance. All the men in her family had been professionals—doctor, pharmacist, teacher—but John had insisted on opening his harness business right here in Deer Run. Worse, he’d left her alone in the house the evening that boy had drowned.
Still, his callousness had an unexpected benefit now. If anyone in the family knew anything about the Mast boy’s death, she would.
Margo glanced at the window, shielded by the shade Meredith had pulled down. It faced the driveway, down which someone might have walked to reach the creek. People shouldn’t trespass, of course, but they did. And the window would have been open on a summer evening.
Memories began to stir and shift in her mind. Consider how satisfying it would be if Margo was the one who remembered something important about that night. It would certainly show Meredith she wasn’t the only smart one in the family.
Margo leaned back against the pillows, indulging in a rosy daydream. Of herself, the heroine of the hour, graciously telling her story to a chosen few. Of Meredith, looking on admiringly.
As long as she was dreaming, she might just as well dream of a means of getting rid of Zach Randal again, this time for good.
* * *
ZACH ARRIVED RIGHT ON TIME for his meeting with the attorney the next day. Evans and Son. The gilt letters on the window of the office weren’t exactly a surprise. Jake Evans had been slotted to go into his father’s law firm from the day he was born, he’d bet.
Zach paused for a second, his hand on the doorknob, remembering. Jake had been in his class in school, so they were about the same age. There the similarity between them ended.
Jake had been one of the “in” crowd, the people who lived in the big old houses along Maple Street and Main Street, the ones whose fathers had worn coats and ties to work every day, who never had to wonder if there’d be food in the house.
The “in” crowd hadn’t had much time for somebody like Zach Randal in those days. He didn’t figure much had changed in that respect, not in Deer Run. He swung the door open and went into the outer office with a determined step.
The middle-aged receptionist didn’t look familiar, but she eyed him as if his reputation had preceded him. Either that or he didn’t look as good as he’d thought he did after a night’s sleep and a shower and shave.
“Mr. Randal? One moment please. I’ll let Mr. Evans know you’re here.”
Her finger moved to a button on her desk, but before she could push it, one of the two doors behind her desk swung open. Jake Evans stood there, giving him a quick, assessing glance before his face eased into a smile.
“Zach, come on in. It’s been a long time. Good to see you.”
Zach allowed himself to be ushered into the inner office, where the latest thing in computers seemed to argue with a heavy oak desk that would fit more readily with a fountain pen and legal pad. Zach swept the room with a comprehensive glance, accustomed to sizing up his surroundings swiftly.
The office was clearly a study in contrasts, with the taste of the elder Evans jockeying for control with that of his son. A small basketball hoop was attached to a black enamel wastepaper basket, and a Phillies ball cap sat rakishly atop a crystal vase on the corner of the bookshelves.
Jake waved him to a chair and folded his lanky, still-athletic frame into the black leather one behind the desk. He moved like the basketball star he’d been in high school.
“Is Jeannette Walker making you comfortable at the Willows?” Jake leaned back and seemed to restrain himself from propping his foot on the wastebasket.
“The place isn’t bad.” He couldn’t blame the setting for Jeannette’s blatant curiosity.
Just like all of Deer Run and everyone in it. He’d come back because he had to, but given the feelings Meredith had stirred up by a single conversation, he’d be better off to sign whatever papers Jake had for him, get rid of the house and head back to his real life.
Jake twirled a pen between his fingers, seeming in no hurry to get down to business. “What do you think of Deer Run? Does it look different to you after being away so long?”
“No.” Zach said the word flatly. “Look, let’s just take care of things so I can get out of here. You didn’t have time for me in high school, and I don’t see any point in making small talk now.”
Jake was immobile for an instant, and then one eyebrow edged its way upward. “I hope I’ve grown up a little since high school,” he said, apparently not taking offense. His grin flickered. “Not that my father would agree with that. He still looks at me and sees the kid who embarrassed him by asking both the Hamilton twins to the senior prom.” He glanced toward the wall beyond which, Zach assumed, lay the senior Mr. Evans’s office.
“That must have caused quite a stir.” He remembered the Hamilton twins—identical daughters of the then mayor. But he didn’t remember the prom. “Afraid I was gone by then.”
“Right.” Jake’s gaze slid away from his, as if he was embarrassed he’d mentioned the prom. He shuffled through a file folder on the desk. “Well, to business.”
Zach nodded, the movement curt. He didn’t want any side excursions into high school memories. He had intended to take Meredith to their senior prom, going so far as to sell his beat-up old car in order to have enough money to do it right. But fate, in the shape of Margo King, had intervened.
“You know that the house went to your stepmother after your father’s death, of course,” Jake said, raising a questioning eyebrow.
He nodded. The only surprising thing was that Wally Randal had hung on to enough money to pay the taxes and keep from losing the place altogether.
“I’m not sure why the property comes to me,” he said. “I’m not related to Ruth.”
Jake shrugged. “I guess she didn’t have any other family. Her will was clear enough. Everything goes to you. Unfortunately, as I mentioned in my letter, the house is badly run-down. If you want to sell—”
“Definitely,” Zach interrupted him. “As soon as possible. Can you refer me to a real estate agent?”
Jake frowned, his frank, open face looking suddenly older. “To tell you the truth, I doubt you could find anyone to take it on. It’s in such bad shape I don’t know how you’re going to find a buyer.”
Zach could only stare at him. He’d ignored the place since he’d heard that he owned it. Now, it seemed, he was going to pay the penalty for that.
“You’re telling me that I own a worthless piece of property, and I won’t be able to get rid of it.” He glared at Jake, who returned the look with interest.
“You’ll