North Country(42)

Jack slaps the outside of his truck door with his palm. “I’ll be here at seven sharp. You need to find a rod, though. Olivia broke my spare.”

“There’s gotta be one in the garage.”

“Perfect. Oh, you got a fishing license?”

I give him a flat look. Oddly enough, that wasn’t on my mother’s to-do list. It might be the only thing that wasn’t.

“Right. I’ll take care of that. Super easy. Everything’s online now.”

“Thanks.” Knowing I’m going out on the lake tomorrow is like seeing that tiny spot of sun peeking through dark clouds after facing a week of torrential rain. “And thanks for the ride.” And for not interrogating me about that shit show with the Murphys, though I’m sure he was dying to. He must’ve sensed the rage vibrating through me and thought better of it.

“See ya bright and early.” Jack rolls off, turning his giant truck around in the spacious parking lot.

My mother’s silhouette fills the front window of the main house. She probably spotted the headlights. That or my father texted to assure her I was on my way home, with thirty minutes to spare until my curfew.

I contemplate going over but decide against it. I’m not in the headspace for questions from anyone. It’s already taken every ounce of my self-control to not react to that confrontation with Ian’s piece-of-shit brother.

I wait until I’m in the garage to let loose, shouting a curse as I kick a bag of feed once … twice … dropping my gifted hat in the process.

I knew a run-in with Hank Murphy was inevitable, but I hadn’t expected it so soon or so public. The balls on that guy, doing it not only in front of my family but Emery and half the town and surrounding area.

I shouldn’t have come back to Cold River. A halfway house in Toronto where I could blend into the fray, be another nameless face in a sea of strangers, would have been smarter. But my mom was so insistent, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. Now she’s going to worry. And she’s going to have questions. Some of the answers I can’t give her. Others … I don’t want to.

But dealing with her will be nothing like dealing with my father when he gets home. I don’t see how I can keep him in the dark, not without earning myself a one-way ticket out of here. And if I tell him the whole truth? I don’t know how he’ll handle that either. But, thanks to Hank, I’m guaranteed to find out tonight.

I hit the light switch on the wall, and a naked bulb shines down over the heaps of boxes that fill the side opposite Jay’s truck. I’ve passed by them every day for the last week, not ready to search aimlessly through childhood memories yet.

Jay and I used to fish on Lake Temagami, so I’m confident I’ll find my old rod buried somewhere in here.

With a heavy sigh to combat the weight of my mood, I start searching.





I’m halfway through a box of VHS movies when the back door slides open, raising my hackles. On instinct, I reach for the first dangerous object I can find—Jay’s baseball bat—before turning to meet the intruder.

Emery stands in the middle of the open doorway, her jaw taut and her expression lethal. I can already tell this isn’t a social call. Even still, my pulse races at the sight of her.

“Expecting someone?” Her eyes land pointedly to the bat in my grip.

I toss it aside. “No, which is why I grabbed it.” Way out here, no one’s too fussed about locking doors, but now that I’m back, they probably should be. “Shouldn’t you be out with your friends?”

“I was, and now I’m here.” Her gaze drifts over the mess of opened boxes. “Looking for something?”

“A fishing rod.” I found one in the far corner. The reel needs cleaning and re-greasing but holding it in my hand again brought a wistful smile. I set it aside and kept opening boxes, curious what other memories are buried in this dusty old garage.

She nods as she folds her arms over her chest. “So, what’s this about a stash?”

She did hear that. I was hoping she hadn’t.

“No idea.” I shift to another box. More VHS movie tapes. The Goonies, A Few Good Men, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Mom seriously kept these ?

“Really, Logan?” Emery’s boots scuff against the concrete floor as she approaches, her voice laced with irritation.

I sigh. “What do you want me to tell you?”

“The truth?”

“He’s a Murphy. They lie and they steal.” I resist the urge to face her, even as that enticing floral scent I caught earlier catches my senses again. “Hank lost something and he thinks I know where it is, but I don’t.”

“What is it?”

“None of my business, is what it is. The last thing I want is to get tangled up with a Murphy.” Again.

“Sounds important if he’s still looking for it twenty years later.”

“Good luck to him.” I crack another box. Inside are old baseball gloves of various sizes that Jay and I accumulated over the years, plus at least a dozen balls. “Sarah’s boys should be using these.” The twins need something other than iPads and phones in their hands.

There’s a long pause and then Emery says, “Annie wouldn’t let anyone touch anything in here.”