CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Daniel insists on coming with us. He climbs into the back of Adam’s car with a hesitant kind of energy, the kind that comes when a good intention is laced with an underlying fear you don’t quite want to say out loud. Its almost as though he fears. Perhaps he has already resigned to the worst possible outcome. That does not help me at all.
“Marianne lives just past the creek bridge,” he says as Adam drives. “Tiny little cabin. She inherited it from her grandmother and never left. She doesn’t really do phones or social media, so people only ever catch her when they drive by. She has a nineteen-year-old son who is away for college and so she mostly spends her time, tending to her garden,”
“How well did my father know her?” I ask, voice quieter than I expect, “Marriane,”
