Chapter Fifteen—Chris
WILLA GIVES ME THE perimeter route just before sunset. State police still have units on the county road, and two deputies are rotating around the property, but Fenton hasn’t been found. The dogs lost his trail east of the lodge where rock and old logging roads break up the terrain.
Lorna hasn’t left the main house all day. I haven’t been alone with her since she agreed to let me sleep under the same roof last night.
Willa waits beside the back porch with a flashlight and a folded property map. “You’re walking with me the first time. The deputies have the outer perimeter. We have the lodge, guesthouse, stone wall, east tree line, access road, west boundary, then back.”
“How often?”
“Every two hours after dark unless law enforcement changes the plan.” She hands me the map. “If you see anything, you call me and the deputy assigned here. You don’t approach it.”
“I understand.”
Willa studies me. “I’m serious, Chris.”
“So am I.”
We start toward the guesthouse. The fence post I repaired last week falls along the route, and I pass it without stopping. At the stone wall, yellow evidence markers remain where Fenton approached the property yesterday.
Willa points her flashlight toward the woods. “You stay on this side. His trail went east.”
“I will.”
We continue around the property. One deputy is visible farther down the slope, watching the logging-road approach. Near the eastern corner, Willa glances at me. “You followed instructions yesterday. You stayed in the guesthouse.”
“You told me to.”
“Yes.” She starts walking again, apparently satisfied with that answer.
The route takes about twenty minutes. When we return to the lodge, she tells me my first solo check is at eight and reminds me I’m supplementing her and law enforcement, not replacing either.
Inside, Lorna is working at the kitchen counter with her laptop open and her phone propped against a canister. A woman on the screen is discussing a video schedule. Lorna sees us come in but keeps listening.
“Thursday works,” she says. “Move the skincare segment to Friday. I don’t want two sponsored pieces back-to-back.”
I hang up my jacket and walk past without interrupting. There are employees waiting for her decisions while police search the mountains for the man who attacked her. I used to think this was a hobby that happened to make money.
“Chris.” Lorna mutes the call when I turn back. “Did Willa show you everything?”
“Yes.”
“Any sign of him?”
“No.”
She nods. “Okay.” Then she returns to work, and I go upstairs.
AT SEVEN, THE SMELL of tomatoes and garlic brings me back down. Willa is working at the dining table while Lorna makes pasta.
I stop in the kitchen doorway. “Do you need help?”
Lorna glances over. “You can cut the bread.”
I wash my hands and find the cutting board. I’ve been here long enough to know which cabinet holds the plates and which drawer sticks unless I lift it first. Lorna moves around me to reach the refrigerator, and neither of us touches the other.
Willa joins us while Lorna drains the pasta. “State police are keeping the roadblock through the night. Deputy changes at nine.”
“Still nothing?” Lorna asks.
Willa shakes her head. “No.”
Lorna serves three plates. Yesterday, she needed a deputy to escort me across the yard before she’d let me inside. Tonight, there’s a place for me at the table. I accept the meal without attaching promises to it.
Conversation stays sparse. Lorna confirms Stone received her recording, and Willa says she’ll handle another evidentiary copy.
I could ask what Fenton said yesterday. I heard enough from the guesthouse to know the conversation was long, but not enough to understand most of it. Lorna hasn’t offered, so I don’t ask.
After dinner, Willa hands me her plate when I start clearing the table. “Dishes aren’t in my job description.”
I look at her.
Her mouth almost curves. “You volunteered.”
I take the plate.
Lorna resumes her work call in the living room while I wash dishes.
I catch references to an October campaign and sponsored content.
I know her annual revenue because Camille finally embarrassed me into finding out.
I still don’t know the ordinary details of how Lorna runs her company, though I want to if she ever chooses to tell me.
At seven-fifty, Willa checks that my phone is charged, the deputy’s number is saved, and the flashlight is by the door. I answer each question once, pull on my jacket, and start the first circuit.
The property is quiet. I see the eastern deputy’s flashlight twice through the trees and hear his radio once, but I stay on Willa’s route. Nothing is disturbed along the wall or access road.
When I return twenty-three minutes later, Willa meets me on the porch. “Anything?”
“No. It’s like he disappeared.”
“Next one at ten.”
I go inside and find Lorna still working at the dining table. She’s wearing reading glasses I don’t remember seeing before. They may be new. More likely, I never noticed.
I sit in the living room and answer my own email. Jensen has sent six messages, four requiring decisions. Richard Moray wants a call, so I make it myself.
“Chris,” Richard says when he answers. “I was starting to think you’d disappeared.”
“I’m out of Charleston for a while.”
“I gathered that. Jensen says you’re restructuring coverage on three accounts.”
“I am.”
After a pause, Richard asks, “Everything all right?”
“No.” He waits, but I leave it there. “I need you to work with Jensen on the Charleston acquisition. He has authority to make the call without me.”
“All right. I know Fenton better.”
“Fenton no longer works for me.” My voice hardens enough that Lorna stops typing across the room. “If I get hold of him, being fired will be the least of my former EA’s concerns. Jensen handles the account.”
Richard doesn’t ask for details. “Understood. I’ll call him in the morning.”
We spend another few minutes on the closing date before I hang up. No assistant schedules the call or briefs me before it. Nobody decides which parts of Richard’s message deserve to reach me.
“That sounded definite,” Lorna says.
I look over. She’s watching me now. “It is.”
Her eyebrows lift. “The part about getting hold of him sounded pretty definite too.”
“I’m not going after him. Willa was clear about that.
” I put the phone down. “If he comes back, I’m also not going to pretend he’s still an employee with a misunderstanding to clear up.
He attacked you. I’ll turn him over to the police with everything my company has on him.
” I hope I get a few minutes alone with him first but leave that unsaid.
Lorna studies me for a moment before nodding. “Okay.” She returns to her laptop, and I open Jensen’s next email.
AT TEN, I MAKE THE second circuit. The deputy has changed, but the route hasn’t. The wall, road, and tree line are undisturbed.
Lorna is filling a glass of water when I return. “Everything okay?”
“Nothing out there.”
Her shoulders ease. “Did you check where he came through?”
“Yes. I stayed on this side of the wall. The deputy checked beyond it.”
She nods. I don’t tell her she’s safe because I can’t promise that. I tell her I’ll go again at midnight, and she takes her water upstairs.
Willa comes into the front room about half an hour before the next check. “You haven’t asked what he said to her yesterday.”
“No.”
“You want to.”
“Yes.” I set my phone aside. “If Lorna wants me to know, she’ll tell me.”
Willa watches me for a moment. “There’s one thing you do need to know. Farris came onto a property with police already present because getting to Lorna mattered more to him than the risk of getting caught. If you see him tonight, you call. You don’t decide you’re the fastest solution.”
“I won’t.”
Her stare drills into my soul. “You don’t try to make up for anything either.”
I stiffen. “I heard you the first time.”
Willa rises. “Then we’re good.”
At midnight, the property remains quiet. I complete the circuit, come inside, and sleep on the couch until my alarm vibrates at one-fifty.
On the two o’clock check, a branch breaks beyond the east wall. I stop, keep the flashlight down, and call the deputy instead of crossing the boundary. Another rustle comes from farther north before the deputy reaches me.
He checks beyond the wall while I wait where Willa told me to. Five minutes later, he returns. “Deer. Fresh tracks.”
“Okay. I’ll finish the route.”
When I come back, the kitchen light is on. Lorna stands just inside the doorway in pajama pants and a sweatshirt. “I heard the deputy’s radio.”
“Movement east of the wall. It was a deer.”
Her hand stays on the edge of the door. “You’re sure?”
“He checked the tracks.” I step inside and lock the door.
Lorna watches me hang the flashlight beside it before asking, “Did you go after it?”
“No. I called him and stayed at the wall.”
Her attention stays on me a second longer. “Your next check is at four?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll probably be awake.”
“I’ll tell you when I’m back.”
She nods and goes upstairs.
THE FOUR O’CLOCK CIRCUIT is quiet. I check every point on Willa’s route and return to find Lorna sitting at the kitchen table with a cup and her closed laptop.
“Anything?” she asks.
“No.”
I hang my jacket by the door. The rings are still inside the pocket, clinking together softly.
Lorna watches me sit down. “You did every check?”
“Yes.”
“Even after the deer?”
“Yes.”
She nods and looks down at her cup.
I don’t explain why I walked every foot of the route. I don’t tell her what I’m trying to prove or turn the night into another apology.
Willa gave me instructions and Lorna trusts her, so I followed them.