“Forget her.” He leaned forward on the table. “Why do you have a hankering to kill me?”

Her purse was beside her on the bench. She opened it and took out a manila envelope, set it on the table between them, and pressed her index finger in the center of it. “Copies of two crime reports. The two my father is alleged to have committed. I thought I’d had an original idea to ask for them.”

He muttered a string of curses, which Angie caught the tail end of as she returned. She gave him an arch look as she served their drinks and asked if they were ready to order. They skipped the appetizers and went straight to the entrées. Regardless, it seemed to take an inordinately long time to order.

Arden apparently shared his impatience. As soon as Angie was out of earshot, she sprang forward as though a tether had snapped. “If I had known you had these reports, I would have asked to borrow them and saved myself a trip to the courthouse this morning.”

“Who spilled the beans?”

“The detective who helped me. He wasn’t tattling. He didn’t know I knew you.” She gave him a probing look. “I don’t believe I do.”

For the time being, he let that pass. “Why did you want the reports?”

“That should be obvious and understandable. I wanted to see what, if anything, was in them that incriminated my dad.”

“Nothing. Unless I missed a clue that only a family member would spot.”

She shook her head. “I’ve read every word of both reports twice. I didn’t find anything. Lisa had told me that it was a waste of time.”

“So she’s also reviewed them?”

“Soon after it happened. As a ten-year-old, I wouldn’t have understood most of what I was reading. By the time I was old enough, years had passed. It never occurred to me to ask to see them. Not until last night.”

“When you told me you would start looking for answers someplace else.”

“Which would have been an ideal time for you to volunteer that you had done some sleuthing yourself.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to say squat.”

“If I hadn’t slammed the door on you, would you have told me?”

“Probably not.”

“No probably about it, Ledge.”

She picked up the envelope and returned it to her handbag. Or tried. It buckled. She wound up impatiently stuffing it in. Then she pushed back a handful of her hair. She took a sip of ice water. He scooted his glass of whiskey toward her, she scooted it back, with enough of a shove to slosh some.

“All right. Clearly you’re mad. Lay into me.” He leaned against the back of the booth and folded his arms across his chest.

His complacency seemed to infuriate her more. “Don’t patronize me. You keep me in the dark by talking in half-truths, riddles, and outright lies. Why? When are you going to be up-front with me?”

“What do you want to know?”

“What prompted you to ask for copies of those crime reports? After twenty years, what gives them relevance now?”

“Someone driving past your house every night.”

“Oh. Right. About that. Turns out that it’s your bitter enemy, the district attorney. Surprise!”

He took a sip of his drink. “No surprise there, except that you now know.”

She gaped at him. “You knew it was him?”

“I suspected.”

“All along?”

“Since the minute you told me about it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I hadn’t caught him at it. I tried.”

“The camouflage and war paint night.”

“I made no secret of trying to catch him.”

“No, but you kept secret who you suspected him to be. Another of your lies by omission.”

He didn’t blame her for being pissed. If the situation were reversed, he would be, too. “When did you find out?”

“Today.”

“Here you go.” Angie seemed pleased with herself for having startled them. Neither had noticed her approaching. “Filet for the lady. T-bone for Ledge.” She set two sizzling platters on the table. Addressing Arden, she said, “I know how Ledge likes his. Want to cut into yours to see if it’s cooked okay?”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

Angie asked if they needed anything else, and when Ledge told her no, she left them. He picked up his knife and fork, and motioned for Arden to do the same.

“I’m too angry to eat.”

“Force yourself.” He cut a piece of steak, speared it, pushed it into his mouth.

“Why?”

“For appearance’s sake.”

“Don’t you want to know—”

“Yes. But not now. Not here.”

He looked around. No one seemed to be paying Arden and him special attention, but Rusty had far-reaching tentacles.

His steak was as good as usual, but he ate methodically, fueling himself without really tasting the food. He was more interested in the woman across from him, who took dainty bites of her dainty filet. She looked distraught, bewildered, anxious, and angry, all at the same time.

He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be all right. But he didn’t know that everything was. Besides, what a fucking hypocrite that would make him.

They declined dessert and coffee. Rather than hassle with a credit card, he left cash on the table. Angie looked disappointed to see them go.

As they headed back toward Penton, he watched to see if anyone followed them from the area of the restaurant. No one did.

“Okay. Tell me,” he said. “How did you learn it was Rusty?”

“I’d gotten the reports and was leaving the courthouse. He pulled up behind me on the parking lot. I recognized the sound of his car’s engine.” She described the scene and recounted their conversation. “To tell it, it sounds perfectly harmless. But it didn’t feel that way. My skin was crawling.”

“With good reason. That detective didn’t point you out to him. He’s had you in his sights since you moved back.”

“But why?”

“Hold that thought.”

Well before they reached the city limits of Penton, he turned off onto a narrow side road that amounted to a rutted dirt lane. If one didn’t know it was there, he would drive past without even seeing it.

Arden asked, “Where are we going?”

“To the scene of the crime.”

Even at high noon, it was an ominous environment. After the sun went down, the threatening aspects were intensified by the encompassing darkness. Trees that competed for sunlight during the day formed a canopy that moonlight couldn’t penetrate. Insects were intimidated into silence. Nocturnal creatures went about their business furtively. Fowl sheltered in their nests. The aura of menace was unrelieved.

When the road came to a dead end, Arden spoke his name with apprehension.

He said, “You should recognize the place by the description in the police report.”

She undid her seat belt and leaned forward to peer through the windshield. Had the headlights not been reflecting dully on the murky water that channeled through the gnarled knees of the cypresses, she wouldn’t have known the lake was in front of them. When he cut the headlights, it disappeared.

“This is where they found Brian Foster,” she said in a whisper.

“Parts of him. In those cypresses.” He pointed to the copse growing out of the lake.

She turned and looked at him. “What does this have to do with Rusty?”

“Rusty killed him.”

Chapter 28

Judy Dyle summoned her family to the dinner table.

All three of the children were involved in sports and other extracurricular activities. Their after-school schedules required more coordination than the D-Day invasion. Furthermore, the schedule was constantly changing, making a set time for the evening meal impossible. Most nights, they ate in shifts, which suited Rusty just fine.

But Judy insisted that at least one night a week they have dinner as a family.

Tonight was the night. Lucky him, Rusty thought sourly. He took his place at the head of the table. At Judy’s direction, their daughter mumbled her way through a short blessing.

Just as she pronounced the amen, Rusty’s cell phone rang. Rescue! He pushed back his chair.

Judy said, “We agreed to ban cell phones at the dinner table.”

“I didn’t agree.” Ignoring her glower, he left the table. As he entered his study and shut the door, he looked at the readout on his phone and answered. “Angie, baby. You horny for me?”

“You wish. Listen, we’re busy, so I’ve got to be quick. I’m calling to ask a favor in exchange for some juicy skinny.”

“You have it backward, sweetheart. You do me the favors. In exchange, I don’t tell your boss that you dip into the till on a regular basis.”

“He knows. He and I have worked out our own swap. Do better, Rusty. You’ll want to hear this.”

Her coyness annoyed him, but that steakhouse got a lot of traffic through it. Angie stayed attuned to the pairs, groups, and individuals who came in, and if she saw someone or something that she thought was out of joint and would be of interest to him, she reported it. She was one of his best informers.

“Okay,” he said, “what can I do for you?”

“My kid sister is popping opioids like they’re M&M’s.”

“Where’s she getting them?”