Chapter 8 - The Message from Robert

For one wild second, I believed my husband had somehow reached across death to warn me. Then Marisol checked the email headers.

"Scheduled delivery," she said. "Could have been set up years ago. Or somebody knows his password."

The message held a single photo: Robert standing beside a concrete floodgate at the north end of Miller Lake. He had scratched an X onto a steel panel. Below it were four words: WHAT'S BURIED FLOWS DOWNSTREAM.

June knew that floodgate. "Old pumping station. They locked it up after the county sold the land."

At the memorial, I watched from a parked van while neighbors held candles and pretended not to stare at Daniel. He wore a black suit that didn't fit. Stacey clung to his arm and cried only when the cameras turned her way.

Wren stood apart from both of them.

Marisol wore a headset and moved through the crowd posing as a reporter. I listened as she stopped Daniel beside a table of sympathy cards.

"People say your mother opposed the north-shore development," she said.

"My mother was confused near the end."

"Confused enough to sign away her property?"

"You'll have to ask our lawyer."

Stacey stepped between them. "This isn't the time."

"Then when is?" Marisol asked.

The sheriff appeared at Stacey's shoulder before she answered. "Ma'am, I think you should leave."

On the van monitor, I saw Calder lean close to Stacey and whisper something. She went rigid. Then her eyes swept the parking lot and stopped on our van.

"She sees us," I told Eli.

He started the engine.

At that moment Wren broke away from the crowd and ran toward us. She yanked open the van door and climbed in, breathless.

"Go!" she cried. "Dad told me to get away from Stacey. He said Grandma wasn't the first."

Eli sped off as Stacey shouted behind us.

Wren clutched my hand and began to sob. "Grandpa left me something. I didn't tell anyone because I thought it was stupid."

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