“I’m sure you did.”
She didn’t miss a trick, he thought, when he hiked over to turn on the hose, walked back with it.
“It’s going to work,” she muttered.
“Fill it up?”
“Please. I love how the sun plays off the copper. I thought about getting a regular birdbath bowl, but the copper just pops out. The frog’s so cute. Totally Zen—which is what I call him. I think they’ll love it. Okay, moment of truth.”
She turned on the pump. Waited. Waited.
Water spurted out from the cupped hands in pretty fountains that spilled back into the copper bowl.
“It works!” She spun a circle, grabbed Miles, kissed him, spun another. “Oh, it’s adorable, right? Adorable and quirky and unique.”
“You’re handy. You built a damn fountain.”
“I learned to be handy, and it was more like putting pieces together. I love it. If they don’t, they’ll say they do, but I’ll know. Let’s sit on the patio, see how it looks from there. I’ll get us a drink.”
PART III
Roots
Beauty, strength, youth are flowers but fading seen;
Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green.
—GEORGE PEELE
Love is strong as death;
jealousy is cruel as the grave.
—SONG OF SOLOMON 8:6
Chapter Twenty-one
As she filled two tall glasses with ice, Morgan did a little dance. Out the kitchen window, beyond the patio, the Zen frog tossed water into the air. Now she could imagine her ladies smiling at it while they enjoyed their morning coffee or evening wine. Through the rest of the summer and into the fall before the air blew too cold.
Picturing it perfectly, she opened the refrigerator for the pitcher of lemonade, then paused when the doorbell rang. A delivery, she supposed as she went to answer. Still, the rules of her life had become the habit of her life.
She checked out the front window first.
And all the simple pleasure of the day drained away.
She opened the door to the two federal agents.
“You’d have called if you’d caught him because you’d want me to know right away. That’s not it.”
“No, Morgan, I’m sorry. That’s not it. Can we come in?” Beck asked her.
“Yes, of course.” She closed the door behind them. “Who was she?”
“Let’s sit down first.”
“Sorry, yes. I…” She looked back toward the kitchen. “I’m not alone. I have my…”
What? She couldn’t say “boyfriend”—he wasn’t a boy. Partner, no, she didn’t think of them as partners, not really. Lover was true, but not all.
“Out back. Miles—Miles Jameson. We’re involved.” That sounded reasonable and true. “He was helping me with a project. He knows about all of this.”
“Yes, we’ve spoken with him.” Morrison glanced back as she did. “Do you want to go out, include him in what we have to tell you?”
No, she thought. She wanted to sit in the sunshine with Miles and lemonade and watch the frog fountain.
But.
“He’ll need to know anyway. I work at the resort. His family owns the resort. And, as I said, we’re involved. I was just … getting lemonade. That sounds so normal.” She laughed, shoved a hand at her hair. “So summer Sunday afternoon. I’ll get two more glasses.”
She walked them back to the kitchen. She could see Miles had already wound the hose back on its reel. Now he stood there with his hands in his pockets, studying the frog fountain.
“Can I help you with that?”
“No,” she told Morrison. “I’ll get a tray. You should go out. I need a minute. I just need a minute.”
She worked on steadying herself as she got a tray. Now she saw Miles turn, saw his bemused, relaxed face tighten.
She filled two more glasses with ice, then carried everything outside.
They continued to stand, the three of them, while the sun struck light against the copper bowl, while the frog smiled his peaceful smile.
She couldn’t say why it meant so much when Miles crossed to her, took the tray. He said, “Sit down.”
Even though it sounded like an order, it steadied her a little more.
When she sat, he poured the lemonade into the glasses so the ice crackled. It sounded like machine-gun fire to her ear.
Howl laid his head on her knee.
“Who was she?” Morgan asked again.
Beck took the lead.
“Her name was Quinn Loper, age twenty-eight, single. She owned her own business in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. She fits his profile, top to bottom, though she was substantially more financially well-off than most of his victims. And in this case, he was also able to access her grandparents’ accounts. He didn’t harm them physically but skimmed a hundred thousand. He could have taken a great deal more.”