The Bone House

'What else? Hot. Humid.'

'That actually sounds nice,' Cab admitted. 'I'll be back home tonight. I guess I owe you ten bucks.'

'Keep it,' Lala said. 'You've got a surprise waiting for you down here.'

'What is it?'

'I got out of your shower this morning, and guess who was waiting for me in the living room of your condo? Your mother.'

'My mother's in Florida?'

'Tarla Bolton in the flesh. Actually, I was the one in the flesh. We were both pretty damn surprised to see each other.'

Cab laughed again. It felt good. 'What did she say?'

'She said her son has good taste.'

'Well, that's true.'

'She also brought enough luggage to completely fill your second bedroom.'

'She's staying?'

'Looks that way. She said something about the mountain coming to Mohammed.'

'I guess I better hurry,' Cab said.

'I guess. I'll get my stuff out of your bedroom and rinse off your toothbrush.'

'You're funny. You know, there's no rush, Lala. Is your air conditioning fixed?'

'No.'

'So stick around a few days. Take a vacation. I need one too. Besides, my mother is more than any one person can take alone.'

'I'll think about that,' she said.

'Hey, do me a favor, OK?' he asked.

'What?'

'Take some cash from my nightstand and go get a very, very expensive bottle of red wine. Tonight, you, me, and my mother are going to drink it on the beach.'

'How often does a girl get a romantic offer like that?' Lala said.

'I'd like to tell you both a story.'

'What kind of story?'

'It's about a girl named Vivian,' Cab said.

There was a long silence from Lala on the line. 'I'll buy the wine.'

'Thanks.'

'Travel safe, Cab.'

'Bye, Lala.'

He hung up the phone and felt an odd heaviness in his heart.

It occurred to Cab that he had never known what homesickness was before, not about people, not about places. He felt restless as the boat nestled against the dock in Northport. He jogged down the steps to the lower deck, climbed into his car, and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel until the deck attendant waved him off the ferry. He was first in line. His Corvette growled with impatience.

As he drove with a thump on to solid land, he saw a long line of cars in the return line, waiting to head back across the blue waters under the blue skies toward Washington Island. That was how it always was here — people coming and going, heading in opposite directions. The lead car bound for the island, bound for home, belonged to Hilary Bradley. He recognized her, and she recognized him. She waved at him as if he was a friend.

Cab pulled off to the side of the pier, letting the other cars form a convoy away from the ferry. When there was a gap in the traffic, he ran on his stork-like legs to the car parked in front of the on-ramp to the boat.

Hilary rolled down the window and leaned out. The warm wind mussed her blond hair. 'Hello, Detective.'

'Mrs Bradley. How are you?'

'Better,' she said. 'Much better. So's Amy Leigh.'

'That's good.'

'The police in Green Bay treated us well.'

'My lieutenant and I made some calls to make sure they did.'

She took off her sunglasses and smiled at him. He could see cuts and bruises lingering on her face, but she still managed to look pretty. Her mood matched the lightness of the weather.

'Are you heading back to Florida?' she asked.

'I am.'

'I'm glad I had a chance to see you before you left. To say thank you for what you did. For going over to the island that night. Without you, I probably would have lost Mark.'

'I should be thanking you,' Cab told her. 'I feel guilty that it took a schoolteacher and a college girl to expose what really happened on that beach in Naples. I would have felt even worse if either of you had been seriously hurt.'

'That wasn't your fault.'

'You probably also owe me an 'I told you so' for wrongly suspecting your husband. I'm sorry. I made a mistake.'

'You don't know him like I do,' Hilary said.

'Well, I told you before that I hoped you were right — and you were.'

'I've been wrong many times, but not about Mark. Trusting someone doesn't necessarily make you a fool, Detective.'

'I'll try to remember that,' Cab said.

He heard a whistle and saw that the belly of the ferry was empty. One journey was done; the next was in waiting. Hilary Bradley turned on the engine of her car, and he could see in her face the same impatience he felt. To finish the ride. To be home where you belonged with the ones you loved. He envied her for having things in her life he was just beginning to find.

'I have to go,' she said, extending a hand through the window. He shook it. Her grip was firm, but her skin was soft.

'Good luck in all things, Mrs Bradley.'

'Thank you, Detective. The same to you.'

She drove on to the ferry, and Cab returned to the Corvette. He gunned it and headed south without a backward look at the water and the island. He had a long drive ahead through the small towns of Door County, but it was a perfect day to travel back to reality. He could drive as fast or as slow as he liked on the empty roads. For the first time in a long time, he felt as if there was no one chasing him.

Even so, he had somewhere to go, and he was anxious to get there.

Hilary broke through the trees on to Schoolhouse Beach behind their house. Mark was waiting for her. So was Tresa, sitting on a bench beside him, her red hair tied in a ponytail. Sunshine spilled across the expanse of the horseshoe bay and left it flecked with gold. The season was still too early for tourists, and they had the rocky stretch of shoreline all to themselves.

When the two of them saw her at the crest of the slope, Tresa ran. Mark lingered on the bench by himself, letting the girl go first. Tresa greeted Hilary with a huge smile and threw her arms around her in a hug that seemed impossibly strong for her skinny arms.

'I'm so glad you're safe,' Tresa whispered.

'Me, too.'

'Mark told me you were coming home today. I really wanted to stay and see you.'

'I'm glad you did.'

Tresa leaned in, hugging her as fiercely as before. When she let go, she ducked her head into her neck. 'I'm so sorry about Jen. I mean Katie. I should have done something. I should have told someone about the fire.'

'You were a kid back then, Tresa,' Hilary said.

'I still feel like a kid.'