Nate laughed so hard he snorted beer out his nose. “And how much had they had to drink?” Nate asked, once he’d pulled himself together. “Or maybe it was something stronger—nothing goes with a hunting trip like a little LSD, some magic mushrooms maybe. I’ve heard how Vermont was in the late sixties and seventies.”

Riley shrugged her shoulders. “I guess you never know. However, as I said, there are dozens of stories going back years and years. People seeing her, following her deep into the woods.”

Nate took a long sip of his beer and looked at Riley, his eyes moving from her face to her tattoos. “Interesting. I mean, albinism has always been linked with mystical stuff. In folklore, the ‘pure white animals’ often have magical abilities. In some cultures, albinos are considered cursed and are shunned. But really, it’s just a genetic mutation—an accident that causes melanin to be improperly produced or distributed. Beautiful, unique, sure…but just genes.”

“It’s weird, though,” Helen said. “Don’t you think? That there are so many stories about a white doe in these woods going back years and years? I mean, if hunters were seeing her in the sixties, it can’t be the same deer, right? How long can one deer live?”

Nate scooted his chair a little closer to Helen, put a hand on her knee. “I’d have to look it up, but I doubt more than ten years, probably less,” he said. Helen reached down, took Nate’s hand, gave it a squeeze, then removed it from her knee.

“I’m telling you, it’s Hattie,” Riley said, rolling another joint. “Got to be.”

“Maybe it’s not just one,” Nate said, pushing his chair back again. “Maybe it’s hereditary. Maybe there’s a whole population of them out there. A colony of albino deer! Like the black squirrels in Toronto!”

Riley relit the joint and passed it to Helen. Nate gave her a quick frown. She took a deep hit, let the smoke seep out of her lungs as she smiled at Nate. “A colony of albino deer?” Helen said. “I hate to say it, but a ghost almost seems more likely.”

    Riley smiled.

Nate narrowed his eyes, shook his head, and stood up. “I’m gonna go look it up. Do some research.”

“Sounds good,” Helen said. “Enjoy.”

They watched Nate jog back down the hill to the trailer, like walking wasn’t fast enough.

“Nate’s not a big believer in the supernatural, I guess,” Riley said as she lit a second joint, then took a hit.

“He’s very evidence-based. Scientific.”

“Not everything can be explained with science,” Riley said, passing the joint to Helen. Helen looked at the tattoos on Riley’s arms: a crow skull, an Egyptian ankh, a dragon encircling her left upper arm. Or was it a gargoyle?

“I agree completely,” Helen said. She thought of Hattie appearing in her kitchen last night. She was contemplating telling Riley about it when Riley changed the subject.

“I think it’s great that Olive’s spending so much time with you two,” Riley said.

“She’s a good kid,” Helen said. “And she’s really been a huge help with the house.”

“The truth is I’m kind of worried about her,” Riley admitted.

“How so?”

“My brother, her dad, Dustin, you’ve met him, right?”

Helen shook her head. It was a little strange. You’d think he’d be interested to see where his daughter was spending so much spare time, would want to stop in just to make sure she and Nate weren’t obvious perverts or drug addicts or anything.

“Not yet,” she told Riley. “We told Olive we wanted the two of them to come to dinner, but it sounds like he’s kind of busy lately so we haven’t found a time to make it work.”

Olive had offered one excuse after another: her dad was too tired, he was working overtime, he was busy with house renovations. Helen had started to wonder if there might be something else going on. Maybe he was an alcoholic? Or just antisocial?

“Busy?” Riley quipped, shaking her head. “I doubt it. The truth is Dustin hasn’t really been the same since Lori took off. He’s kind of a mess, actually.”

Helen took the joint again, said, “Oh no. I had no idea. Olive hasn’t told us much about her mother.”

    That was an understatement. Olive hadn’t really said word one about her mom at all, except to repeat a couple of stories she’d heard from her about Hattie. Helen knew Olive’s mom wasn’t in the picture but hadn’t yet figured out why.

“Yeah,” Riley said. “I’m not surprised. I mean, it’s one thing to leave your husband, right? But your kid? Poor Olive. My heart freaking breaks for her.”

“Was there another man?” Helen asked, worried she was crossing the line, but the pot loosened her tongue.

Riley nodded, looked away.

“No one’s heard from her?” Helen asked.

Riley shook her head, blue bangs falling into her eyes. “No. It’s fucked up. She and I were like—like best friends. Did everything together. It was like The Lori and Riley Show, you know? That’s what Dustin used to say. Then she just…took off.”

She looked away, eyes shining with tears. Then she took a deep breath and went on.