Chapter Eight
When the noon bell rang on Monday, Holly grabbed her backpack and scooter and slipping through the hallway of kids—they were all so much bigger than her!—made her way to the exit. She liked skipping out for the lunch hour and had done it a few times already.
One grade-eight girl deliberately slammed her elbow into Holly as she passed.
The eighth graders were the worst, she’d discovered.
It was the same in this school as at her school in Missoula.
She was glad that summer holidays were starting soon.
Then next fall she would be one of the dreaded eighth graders.
Only, she’d probably still be the shortest kid around…
Being short had its benefits, though. She could ride her scooter up and down sidewalks, walk in and out of cafés and stores, even hang out on street corners without attracting notice. She didn’t look old enough to be trouble. Or young enough to make adults wonder where her mother was.
Since their move to Whitefish, Holly had been trying to learn as much as she could about Max Strongman.
She’d found out where he lived—on the edge of the golf course, in a fancy big house with tons of windows.
She’d figured out what vehicle he drove and memorized his license plate number.
And she’d even learned where he went for lunch.
Most days it was Loula’s Café on Second Street.
Holly headed there now, making good time on her scooter, while being respectful of the other pedestrians. She didn’t want to call attention to herself by bumping into anyone or being annoying.
Once she had the café in sight, she made leisurely laps of the block. Within ten minutes she caught sight of Max. Sometimes he had lunch with a group of men, all of them dressed like they’d just stepped off the golf course. But most often, like today, he was alone.
After Max had stepped inside the café, Holly parked herself on a nearby bench and pulled out her phone and started aimlessly scrolling. She would have preferred to use her camera, but no one looked twice at a kid engrossed in their phone.
An older woman wearing a skirt and heels crossing the street to Holly’s left attracted her attention. There was something familiar about the well-groomed woman. A second later Holly placed her. She was the Realtor who’d sold her mother the town house.
Holly pulled her baseball cap lower on her forehead and scrunched down, but she needn’t have worried. Beth Gibson didn’t even glance her way as she headed purposefully toward Loula’s Café. Before opening the door, she put a hand to her hair and smoothed it into place. Then she went inside.
After waiting a few minutes, Holly got back on her scooter and slowly coasted in front of the café.
Max Strongman was seated at his usual spot by the window.
And Beth Gibson was with him. They were deep in conversation, leaning in toward one another in a way that seemed like they didn’t want to be overheard.
Then and there Holly decided to skip her afternoon classes.
She rode her scooter down a few blocks to a different bench with a view of the café and leisurely ate her bagged lunch.
Forty-five minutes later Beth Gibson left the café and got into a black SUV parked on the other side of the street.
Five minutes later Max exited the café and got into Beth’s car.
As they drove past her, Holly discreetly took a few photos holding her phone in her lap, not up to her eye. She snapped a shot of the two of them in the car, then another shot of the plate on the back of Beth’s car.
Then she got on her scooter and followed them as they headed toward the golf course. Which also happened to be toward Max’s home.
At the golf course Beth turned left and was soon out of Holly’s sight, but on a hunch Holly traveled the eight blocks to Max’s house and sure enough she found Beth Gibson’s car—only it was parked at the end of the block, not in Max’s driveway.
If Beth’s reason for visiting was legit, she wouldn’t have done that, Holly reasoned. So she crept along the neighbor’s overgrown hedge and tried to get a look in the main-floor windows. The house was all glass, it should have been easy, but there was too much glare from the sun to see inside.
She ran around to the back of the house and as she scanned the windows, she noticed a man’s silhouette in one of the upper-floor windows. Max. As she watched, Beth stepped up beside him and leaned in close for a kiss. Holly managed to take several pictures before the curtains were closed.
Holly shook her head, disgusted. But also elated.
Beth Gibson’s name had been on the list of people present at the Thunder Bar M the night Joe Beckett had been killed. Had she and Max been involved back then? If so, maybe she knew more about what had happened than she’d admitted to the police.
Maybe she’d even been an accomplice.
*
Eager for a chance to redeem himself—and also eager to see Maureen again—Jake arranged a tennis rematch for Monday afternoon. Maureen started out strong, but they played an extra set this time, and he won the last one, mostly thanks to physical endurance.
Or plain damn stubbornness.
“Want to go to my place for a drink?” he asked.
“I have to pick up Holly now.” Maureen’s cheeks were ruddy; her neck and the top part of her chest, above her white tank top, glistened as if rubbed with body oil.
“Let’s pick her up together, then you can both come over for dinner. I went fishing on Sunday and caught a nice trout.”
Maureen gave him a long look, reminding him of a lawyer measuring up a witness on the stand. Finally she nodded. “Thanks, that sounds nice.”
As they drove to the school, Maureen checked the messages on her phone.
“Damn. The school secretary called. Holly missed one of her afternoon classes. What is that kid up to now?”
“Has she skipped classes before?”
Maureen shook her head, her mouth in a grim line.
As she pulled up to the middle school, the final buzzer signaled the end of the day.
Within seconds students were flooding out the main door and both side doors as well.
Holly emerged wearing her backpack and holding her scooter under one arm.
To her left was a tall, skinny tow-haired boy wearing glasses, and to her right a red-headed girl with freckles and a big smile.
Holly was significantly shorter than both of them.
But the three kids were laughing and looked comfortable with one another, like good buds.
Maureen lowered her window and called out Holly’s name. Holly glanced from her mother to the man sitting beside her.
“Jake? Cool! What’re you doing here?”
“Your mom and I were playing tennis. Then I had the brilliant idea of force-feeding you the trout I caught on Sunday for dinner. You up for it?”
“Sure.” She dumped her backpack and scooter into the back seat, then buckled herself in.
“So?” Maureen asked as she pulled out into the main road. “Want to tell me why you missed one of your afternoon classes?”
“I just felt like being alone for a while. So I went for a walk.”
Maureen glanced at the rearview mirror image of her daughter. “Seriously? You expect me to believe that?”
Holly shrugged.
A long silence followed. Jake supposed Maureen didn’t want to interrogate her daughter in front of him. “Who were those kids you were walking with after school let out?” he asked, to change the subject.
“Mads and Adam.”
“The friends you met at science camp?”
“Yup.”
There was no more conversation until Maureen pulled up to his address. She glanced at the Sold sign three doors down.
“Hard to believe this will soon be our new home,” she mused.
“I’m looking forward to being neighbors,” Jake said, and it was true. But a part of him was quietly panicking. He and Maureen kept talking of taking things slowly. Yet it felt as if the exact opposite was happening. He wasn’t sure where they were going, or even where he wanted to go.
All he knew was if he had an opportunity to see Maureen, he took it. He couldn’t seem to stop himself.
Once inside his place, Maureen went to the powder room to wash and change into a clean T-shirt she had in her sports bag. Jake washed his hands at the kitchen sink then snagged three iced teas from the fridge. Maureen entered the kitchen just as he tossed Holly a can, which she caught with ease.
Mistake, he realized, noting Maureen’s frown. She didn’t like that Holly was so at home here. He poured one of the beverages into a glass for Maureen, then opened a jar of salsa to have with the corn chips already on the table.
“So how are renovations going at the lodge?” Holly asked.
Jake was impressed that she’d paid attention enough to ask.
“Really good, thanks. We’re making the most of the short construction season we get on the mountain.
The project should be complete by the time you move into your new house.
” He turned to Maureen. “You’ve been getting the daily progress reports? ”
She nodded, her shoulders relaxing a little. “Looks like you’ve got a great crew working up there.”
Holly had gone quiet. She was focused on Jake’s hand, which was resting on her mother’s shoulder. Discreetly Maureen shifted away.
“What’s going on here?” Holly glanced from him to her mother. “I thought you were just friends with Jake. Are you guys dating or something?”
Jake cleared his throat as he waited to see how Maureen wanted to handle this.
“Jake and I have played some tennis together,” Maureen said finally. “Went out for dinner once. I wouldn’t say we’re dating, exactly.”
“That sounds like dating to me.” Holly looked from her mother, to Jake. “I thought we were friends. I thought that was why you kept inviting us to dinner.”
“We are friends, Holly.” Jake glanced at Maureen. “I just also—”
She cut him off. “This is bogus. I want to go home.”