Sniff, sniff. “There’s a picnic area on the lake where he and I have met a few times to drink beer. It’s gone to ruin. Only a few wooden tables are left and they’re falling down. It’s off the beaten path. There’s a turnoff to it about a hundred yards east of that boat ramp with the bent flagpole.”

Joe knew the spot. Years ago, he and Marjorie used to take the girls there, before the area had become overlooked and overgrown.

“What are you going to do?” Foster asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Will you be there?”

“If I can get there.”

Foster sobbed for real. “We were all so stupid, weren’t we, to be sucked in by him?”

“Yes. Very stupid. But let’s try to salvage the situation before it gets worse. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Now listen. Starting now, we must be very careful. They check cell phone data. If we’re ever asked about this call, our story is that you called to tell me how bad you felt over Welch’s firing me, and to wish my family a happy Easter. Understand?”

“Yes, all right.”

“Now, go meet Rusty. Take a flashlight. You’ll need it out there. Keep it on as much as possible. Play along with whatever Rusty says for as long as you can.”

“Then what?”

Then watch your back, Joe thought. But what he said was, “We play it by ear. Good luck.”

He hung up before Foster could respond. He stared at the bottle of whiskey with bone-deep craving. Then he carried it into the bathroom and emptied it into the sink.

He took a dark-colored windbreaker from his closet and pulled it on over his white, short-sleeved shirt. He opened his bedroom door a crack and listened but didn’t hear a sound. He kept his footsteps light as he made his way down the hallway.

Being the coward that he was, he passed his daughters’ bedrooms without looking in on them. If Arden woke up, he could ease her back to sleep with a white lie and a reassuring pat.

But not Lisa. She would see straight through any malarkey he tried to put over on her. The truth would come out. And then what would he do? What would she do?

In any case, he didn’t risk an encounter. He descended the stairs, avoiding the treads that creaked, and left through the back door. He started across the field behind the house. It was a moonless night, sultry and still with the heavy scent of rain, which Lisa had forecast. He hoped it would hold off for a while longer.

The ground was uneven, and he wasn’t that sure-footed because of the whiskey he’d drunk, so the walk to the cypress grove took him longer than expected, and when he reached it, he was leaking sour-smelling sweat from every pore.

He was glad to have the cover of the trees, although their density, and the darkness it created, made him claustrophobic. He didn’t dare risk a flashlight.

Stumbling around in the marshland, feeling his way in the dark, he didn’t find the rowboat right away, and, ever aware of the time constraints, his search for it became frantic.

His pants legs got soaked. More than once, he banged his shins on cypress knees. He walked into a clump of ghostly moss hanging from a low-lying branch, and smacked his forehead on another.

The discomforts did help to sober him up, however, and, eventually, he located the boat. It was a wonder he had, because vegetation had overtaken it, and it took some effort to pull it free.

Like everything else in his life, the craft had been neglected. As a family, they had taken it out on the lake frequently. “Nature excursions,” Marjorie had called them. They’d competed to see who could spot and name the most species of birds and wildlife. Whoever caught the first fish got the largest chocolate chip cookie from the picnic basket. Like that. How had his family deteriorated from that idyllic example of harmony to this?

Tonight, the boat looked as hopeless as regaining those happier days. He wasn’t even sure that it was still watertight. He wouldn’t trust it, except that going by car to the designated place would mean taking the long way around. Weaving through the intersecting bayous of the lake would take less time, but only for someone who had grown up doing it.

Joe had. Even in the dark, he would have no trouble navigating the swampy labyrinth. The future of his family depended on it.

He dragged the boat into the water and clambered aboard.

Chapter 26

Following her conversation with Lisa, Arden had determined that if she wanted to learn more about the ongoing feud between the smarmy district attorney and Ledge, a good place to start would be with the woman at the core of it.

Arden recalled Ledge telling her about his “friend” who owned the hair and nail salon where the errant squirrel had done damage in the attic. It hadn’t been difficult to link his Crystal with Crystal’s Salon on Main Street, a house that had been charmingly converted into a business. It was a white frame structure with pale blue shutters and purple petunias in window boxes.

Arden had planned to arrive just as the salon was closing for the day, and her timing was perfect. As she pulled into the shallow parking lot in front, a woman was locking the front door. Arden got out of her car.

The woman turned and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Arden continued up the walkway toward her.

“I’m sorry, the salon is closed,” she said. “But I’ll be happy to make you an appointment.”

“Are you Crystal?”

“Yes.”

It was easy to understand Ledge’s enduring attraction. She was stunning. Her long, dark hair was as sleek as a seal’s pelt. Her eyes were captivating, both in color and shape.

“I’m Arden Maxwell.”

“I thought you might be.”

“You’ve heard talk?”

“Around here, gossip is the number one pastime. I was hoping you would come into the salon one day so I could form my own opinion.”

“What’s your impression so far?”

Crystal smiled. “You’ve got great hair.”

“Thanks. The humidity makes any attempt at control futile.”

“I’ve got product that could help.”

“I’m sure.” Arden looked aside, then came back to her and said, “I was hoping I could talk to you about a private matter.”

“Ledge?” When Arden reacted with shock, she added, “He told me you had consulted him about doing some handiwork.”