Chapter 21: The Lake House

I had not been to the lake house in nine years.

Darius drove me and parked at the end of the gravel drive, and he did not ask to come in.

"This one is mine," I said.

"I'll be here."

"There's a gray car at the gate," I said. "It's from the county. I called the detective this morning."

"I saw him."

"Good."

The front lawn had a white tent on it.

Florists were carrying roses up the steps in buckets.

A banner hung from the porch rail in silver script, with two names on it.

*Brinley & Darius.*

A woman with a clipboard said, "Are you the bride's friend?"

"I'm the bride's witness," I said, and went past her into the house.

The living room had been rearranged for a ceremony, with rows of white chairs and an aisle runner.

The stairs were at the back, the same wooden stairs.

I stopped at the bottom.

Nothing about them had changed.

Brinley stood at the top.

She wore an ivory silk gown with the sleeves pinned, for the final fitting.

A seamstress knelt behind her with a mouthful of pins.

"Leave us," Brinley said, and the seamstress went down past me with her eyes on the floor.

I climbed the stairs one at a time.

There were fourteen.

I had counted them nine years ago, with a cup in my hand.

A friend's palm had rested in the small of my back.

At the top, the hallway ran toward the lake side of the house.

At the end of it was the bathroom door.

It stood open, and I could see a window and a stretch of blue water.

"I thought you'd want to stand here," Brinley said.

"Don't tell me what I want."

"Then I'll tell you what happened." Her voice was steady.

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