*Bobbie woke early the morning of baby Singleton’s funeral. The authorities had released the remains to the family a week ago. DNA tests had confirmed that the baby was Fern’s full biological sibling. If Neil had killed the baby believing it was a bastard, he’d been wrong.
Another set of forensic tests had been made public this week. The results from the tire iron used to murder Dean had not been as conclusive. While the blood and hair samples had been positively identified as Dean’s, no clear fingerprints had been found to identify the killer.
Bobbie supposed it had been too much to hope for. What killer would be foolish enough to throw away a murder weapon without first wiping it clean of fingerprints?
One odd thing remained, however. Bobbie couldn’t understand why the tire iron had been dropped in the mud instead of deep in the river where it would likely never be found. Divers had searched the river near Canal Flats. But they couldn’t search the entire river. All the killer would have needed to do was drive a few miles up or down river.
Bobbie wondered if this bothered the RCMP too. When she’d raised the question with Constable Kowalski, he’d shrugged. “The perp was under a lot of stress. Maybe he felt pressed for time. Or simply panicked.”
The explanation didn’t wash with Bobbie. She thought it was more likely Dean’s murderer had wanted the tire iron found. That it had been part of their plan to frame George for the murder.
*
George was at the cemetery a few minutes before sunrise. He had the cemetery map and all the tools he needed to dig the new grave. They were going to lay baby Singleton next to his mother. Like all the other souls in the cemetery, he would be facing east toward the sunrise.
George began by standing solemnly, hands clasped in front of him, waiting for the sun to arrive, and seven minutes after five it did. Carefully George took his measurements, then laid out pine two-by-fours in a frame around the plot he intended to dig. First, he cut out squares of topsoil. These would be placed back over the grave once the service was over.
The walls of the grave had to be perfectly perpendicular, and George accomplished this by alternating between his backhoe and his hand shovel. It was meticulous work but over the years he had perfected his technique.
Thanks to routine irrigation, the ground was not overly dry, even though they hadn’t had any rain since the beginning of June. Already the forest fires had started in central and northern British Columbia, though, thankfully, the wind was coming from the south today and the air was clear, without smoke.
Once the grave was ready, George placed boards over it and cleaned up the site. He wanted everything nice for the service later that afternoon. Generally, he kept well in the background at this stage, but Fern had asked him to stand with her and be her support, so he needed to go home and shower and shave and put on proper clothing.
He had not been shocked at what Fern had done to her father after learning he had murdered her brother. George understood about the law and accepted that rules were necessary to live in a civilized society. But the law did not always deliver justice. In fact, in George’s experience, it rarely did. And that pillow, in Fern’s hands, had delivered justice, as far as he was concerned.
Fern had cried when he told her that.
And then it had been his turn to confess, to admit that he was a suspect in Dean Kavanaugh’s murder. When he told Fern he was innocent, she hadn’t doubted him for a second. It was such a relief.
Now there were no more secrets between them.
*
Bobbie arrived fifteen minutes early for the two o’clock graveside service. Already a sizable number of people were milling around the cemetery. The midday sun was scorching, and Bobbie was glad her mom had opted not to come.
She spotted Leif right away, standing with his two sons and their wives. When Leif waved her over, she joined them, offering sympathy for a baby nephew and cousin they never had the opportunity to meet.
Fern and George arrived next, along with the officiant from the funeral home and Paulette, the funeral home director.
Everyone was moving slowly today. It was the heat. And the infernal dryness.
Next to arrive was Bobbie’s family, Mac and Angie, and Jesse and Fallon. Both generations of McArthurs were holding hands and leaning in toward one another. Bobbie was relieved there was no sign of discord between Jesse and Fallon.
At two o’clock sharp the service began. The officiant, Jill Miller from Grand Forks, spoke briefly about a life taken before it had hardly begun. Fern stepped forward to read a poem. Somehow, she got through it without shedding a tear. Bobbie figured she’d cried enough for both of them.
At the end of the service people slowly drifted by Fern for a quiet word of sympathy, then back to their vehicles. Fern had wanted to keep things short, just this graveside service, nothing more. Despite the simplicity, despite the heat, a lot of people had shown up, close to fifty anyway. Bobbie waved at Monique who was trailed by her husband and son. Neither Henri nor Rene looked like they wanted to be here.
Later, perhaps in twilight, George would come back and cover the grave. For now, though he was at Fern’s side, his arm around her waist. Were they a couple now? Bobbie didn’t know but she hoped so. Solitude could become a burden and those two had suffered too much of it.
In the parking lot Mac gave Bobbie a one-armed hug. “Still can’t believe that baby was buried there all these years. Gives me the shivers thinking how Jesse plowed that patch this spring.”
“We should get going, Dad. Fences to mend, remember?” Jesse jangled his key chain impatiently.
Out of the corner of her eye Bobbie noticed George moving in their direction. He seemed mesmerized by Jessie’s key chain. Bobbie followed the direction of his gaze. There was nothing special about the silver key chain or the keys that hung from it. Unless it was the tattered remains of that friendship bracelet. But why would George care about that?
And then something clicked in Bobbie’s brain and an old memory surfaced. George’s sister Susie handing out bracelets the night of the Halloween party. She’d made enough for all her classmates as well as her teachers, including Bobbie. But why did Jesse have one? He wasn’t in Susie’s grade. He hadn’t even been at the town party. He’d been at Fallon’s ranch with his friends.
Or so the story went.
Oh no… Despite the heat, Bobbie’s skin went clammy and cold. She watched as George came close enough to touch Jesse. He pointed at the frayed cords. “Was that one of Susie’s friendship bracelets?”
Jesse took a step backward, looking uncomfortable. “Oh. Yeah. She gave it to me a long time ago. I tied it on my key chain and sort of forgot about it.”
“Susie worked so hard on those bracelets,” George said. “She was afraid they wouldn’t be ready in time for the party, so I helped her. But how did you get one Jesse?”
“Um… I don’t remember when she gave it to me. But when I told her I’d tie it on my key chain that seemed to make her really happy. So even when it fell apart, I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away.”
Bobbie could hardly breathe. It was so obvious Jesse was lying, but George seemed to take his lame excuse at face value.
“I’m glad you kept the bracelet,” George said, “because none of the kids she gave them to at the party would even wear them. Some of them laughed when they saw her crying.”
Bobbie’s heart ached for the poor girl. But it was also aching for Jesse. She’d seen that look on his face all too recently. The emotional struggle, the weight of lying, it was becoming too much.
Angie must have noticed too. She knew her son.
“You and Fallon should be getting home,” she told Jesse, her voice harsh.
Fallon took her husband’s arm, hearing the message in her mother-in-law’s tone. “Your mom is right, honey.”
“But seriously,” George, usually the last one to press a point, persisted. “When did my sister give you that bracelet?”
“Maybe at school before the party?” Fallon suggested. She seemed to have tapped into Angie’s anxiety because she was now pulling on Jesse’s arm.
“That’s not possible,” George insisted. “None of the bracelets were ready before the party and I watched her hand them out. You weren’t there.”
“Does it really matter when he got the bracelet?” Angie asked.
“It does matter,” Bobbie said quietly. She loved Jesse and wanted to protect him but how could she ignore the tortured emotion behind George’s questions? He deserved an answer. “If Jesse didn’t get the bracelet at the party, then he must have been at the Linderman house afterward.”
Bobbie took in the distraught faces of the people she loved. Jesse, her brother, Angie and Fallon. Jesse was caving under a heavy load of guilt. She could see it now as clearly as the day she had asked him about Madison’s paternity. Poor Mac had no idea what was going on. But Fallon and Angie did. Fallon must have suspected all this time.
“Jesse,” Angie repeated. “Go!”
“I can’t, Mom.” His voice was tortured. “The guilt about this has been killing me for a long time. Why do you think I keep this bracelet on my key chain? It’s to remind me what I did, what we did.”
Most of the guests had left by then, including Leif and his family as well as the officiant and funeral director. But Monique, Henri, and Rene had noticed the commotion and were headed their way.
Bobbie knew her nephew. Jesse had reached the stage where he was going to tell the truth, and nothing would stop him.
“Like Fallon said, a bunch of us were at her ranch that night, partying in the old hay barn. I was there with Hadley, but then Luke showed up and she took off with him. I sort of went crazy. I wanted to follow her. Rene said he would drive, and Dean came with us. We followed Luke’s car and by the time we reached the Linderman’s, I had calmed down, so Rene suggested we pull some Halloween pranks. Throw eggs, squash pumpkins, that kind of thing. When we stopped at the Linderman farm that was all we intended to do, I swear, but—”
“Shut the fuck up, McArthur.”
Everyone swiveled to see who had barked out that order, but Bobbie didn’t need to look to know it was Rene LaPierre. He and his parents had joined their tight circle and Rene was staring at Jesse, hands in fists, eyes blazing. He looked ready to attack, but his father placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.
“Easy son,” Henri said. “Careful what you say.” Turning to Jesse he said, “You be careful, too, Jesse.”
Jesse stood frozen, breathing hard. For Bobbie it was high school all over again, with her nephew under Rene’s thumb.
Fallon stepped between them.
“If Jesse wants to speak, I guess we should let him.” She turned to her husband. “I always wondered what the three of you were up to that night. I guess I was too scared to ask.”
Jesse seemed to take strength from his wife’s support. He squared off against Rene, looking him straight in the eyes. “Your father was wrong. We should have told the truth back then and I’m going to tell it now.”
“You idiot. For the record, I won’t corroborate anything you say. It’ll be my word against yours.” Rene left, striding angrily toward his sports car, but his parents remained behind. Monique baffled and worried, Henri quietly seething.
“Once we reached the Linderman’s place,” Jesse said, continuing with his story, “we parked at the top of the drive and walked down to the house. Our plan was to take the pumpkins and smash them against the house and be gone before anyone saw us, but I guess we were laughing and talking too loudly because Susie came out of the house, and she recognized me right away.
“Rene and Dean went to hide behind the bales, but I stayed to talk to her. She asked what we were doing, and I told her it was nothing. That she should go back to bed, that we were leaving. But she said she couldn’t sleep, she was worried about her brother. He’d had a big argument with their father and now he was off in the woods somewhere.”
At this point George groaned and began rubbing his wrist. Fern moved in closer putting a hand to his back.
And Jesse continued.
“I told her not to worry, that he would be back soon. And she said I was nice and would I like a bracelet. Next thing I knew she’d slipped one off her wrist. She told me it was a friendship bracelet and asked if I would tie it around my wrist. I said would it be okay if I put it on my keychain instead.” Jesse paused and took a breath, gathering strength to continue.
“Once she went back into the house, I told Rene we should go. And we did. We drove around for another half an hour but then Rene circled back to the Linderman’s. I refused to get out of the car, but he and Dean ran back to the house.”
“Like hell,” Henri objected. “You’re pinning this all on my son and a dead man.”
Jesse ignored the interruption. “When we drove away about ten minutes later, Rene told me they painted some graffiti on the Linderman’s barn door. But the next morning when Mom told me about the fire, I knew he’d lied. I went over to tell him we had to go to the police, but Mr. LaPierre convinced me—convinced all of us—not to say anything.”
“It was supposed to be a Halloween prank,” Henri said. “The boys never guessed the fire would spread to the house. What was the point in them coming forward? They were young, stupid kids but they never meant any harm. Telling the truth wouldn’t bring back the family, it wouldn’t raise up the house.”
“Oh Henri.” Bobbie had never heard Monique’s voice so full of despair.
“I was just trying to protect them like any father would.”
“No. Not any father. Henri, you and I have had many differences on how far we’ll go for our son. This time you have passed the limit.”
And then Monique turned her back on him. In her high heels she walked unsteadily to her Volvo, got inside and drove away. And Henri, all alone now, was left to walk.
*
George tried to focus, but the words seemed to be coming at him from further and further away, like he was at the bottom of a well and someone was shouting down at him. He needed to go home. He needed to shut the door and be alone where it was nice and quiet. A new Lego set had come in the mail yesterday. He would work on that.
George was almost at the beginning of the path through the forest when the sound of his name broke through the fog in his brain.
Turning around he saw Jesse, hands stuffed in his jean’s pockets, tears in his eyes.
“I’m sorry George,” he said. “I should have told the truth back then. I’m so very sorry.”
George stared at him a long time. He thought he should probably be hating Jesse right now, but he was too numb. Perhaps he would never feel anything again. That would probably be a good thing.
But then someone else came running and this time it was Fern. First, she took his hands, then she pulled him in close for a hug. And, magically, something hard and rigid inside of him softened. He put his arms around her too and hugged her back.