Bitterroot Lake by Alicia Beckman (i read a book .TXT) 📕

if just noticing him and his interest. “No. I would never …” Her mouth formed the perfect O of a choir singer.

And though two minutes ago, she’d been convinced the woman was guilty, Sarah believed her.

“Then what happened?” Leo asked quietly.

“I told him my parents deserved to know the truth before they died. And he said …” She paused, as if not wanting to repeat Lucas Erickson’s words. “He said I shouldn’t be asking him. I should be asking the moose why it rammed into the car. I should be asking Janine Nielsen why she was such a prick-tease. He laughed, a mean, nasty laugh. And then I left. I ran out.”

“Was anyone else in the office? Did you see or hear anyone?” Leo asked.

“No. My phone rang, just as I got in the car. It was my mother and I always take her calls. With elderly parents …” She didn’t finish the sentence.

“What time?”

She dug in her black croc bag for her phone and started scrolling. Found what she was looking for and held the phone out to Leo.

“I wish you had come to me with this the moment you heard that Lucas Erickson was dead,” he said.

“Vonda Brown Garrett, may I introduce my cousin, Sheriff Leo McCaskill.” To him, Sarah said, “If you put that together with the time Janine arrived …”

“Narrows the time of death. You’re sure you didn’t see anyone?” Leo asked Vonda, who shook her head. “Anyone see you?”

“That I couldn’t say,” Vonda replied. “I was too shocked. If that’s how he treated people …” She let the words trail off, but Sarah knew what she was thinking. She felt the same way.

If that’s how Lucas Erickson treated people, then she wasn’t surprised that he was dead.

And she wasn’t sorry.

 30

This time, the lights in her rearview mirror were a good sign.

But if Vonda Brown—Vonda Garrett—hadn’t killed Lucas, then who had? Had the killer seen her? Was she in danger too? As Janine might be.

Sarah parked in the turnout, leaving room for Vonda’s car. The two women picked their way down the narrow shoulder, the balloon sailing above them. Together, they unwound the ratty, wind-torn ribbons and tied the balloon to the post, below the cross. Vonda leaned in and kissed Michael’s picture.

“Rest easy, baby brother,” she said.

Minutes later, on the steps of the lodge, Vonda hesitated. “I’m not sure I should be here. I’ve caused you all great pain, and it’s not my intention to blame anyone.”

“We owe you the truth. It won’t change the past, but you deserve to know.”

“Hey, sis, I think we found the link,” Holly called as the two women walked in. She was sitting at the game table, a notebook and the Sampler box in front of her.

Nic and Janine entered from the kitchen, the doors thwunking behind them.

“And I’ve solved another mystery,” Sarah said, and introduced Vonda.

“It’s you who’s been decorating the cross,” Holly said.

“Michael deserves to be remembered. He died during a difficult time for my family, and I never wanted to come up here until now,” Vonda said. “As time went on, I wanted to put the pain of losing him in the past. My boys were born prematurely a few weeks after his funeral, and my energy was focused on getting them healthy. They’re fine,” she said, smiling. “Almost as tall as Michael was. And older than he ever got to be.”

“How much does she know?” Janine demanded. “What did you tell her?”

“That’s why she’s here,” Sarah said. But when they were seated on the old leather couches and chairs, Vonda held up a hand.

“My turn first. I sent the letters to the three of you, and to Lucas. I never meant to frighten you, and I am so sorry. I—I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“That partial fingerprint on the envelope will probably turn out to be hers,” Sarah said.

“What did you mean?” Nic asked gently. “What did you want?”

“I hoped one of you would reach out and fill in the blanks. Lucas had been his friend, his roommate, and I wanted him to take responsibility.”

“Why not sign the letters?” Nic continued. “Give them a chance to respond?”

Vonda’s expression was mortified. “All I can say is, being in Missoula, where Michael went to school, where he played ball, where he lived for four years, it made me a little crazy. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Sarah could understand that. Grief made you do the inexplicable, sometimes.

“The letters had nothing to do with my mother,” Janine said. “Thank God.”

“My parents never believed they’d been given the whole story,” Vonda said. “The coach and some of Michael’s teammates came to San Diego for the funeral, and you all sent cards and flowers, but we always thought we were missing pieces of the puzzle.”

Piece by piece, they filled in the picture for her. How Lucas had baited Janine and finally attacked her in one of the cabins. How she’d run from him, how Michael had tried to help her and stop Lucas. How Lucas swore he wasn’t going to go to prison for a slut—Sarah couldn’t bring herself to repeat what he’d really said—from the wrong side of the tracks and jumped in Jeremy’s car just as Sarah and Jeremy returned from their ride. How the two boys raced after Lucas, trying to keep him from what seemed like suicide, only to become the victims themselves.

Vonda covered her mouth with her hand. “The sheriff didn’t tell us any of that. Was he charged with what he did to you?”

“No,” Janine said. “He’d already been accepted to law school and the sheriff implied that I’d be ruining his future. That it would be he-said, she-said and did I want to put myself through that? I decided no, I didn’t. Sarah will tell you that’s her fault, that she discouraged me from pursuing it, and I used to think that. But the truth is, I made the decision. She acted out of love. I acted out of fear.”

“When the crash was ruled an accident and