Page 28

And yeah, I’d admit it. I was lonely.

The blues had me by the nuts for a few days. I escaped to the lake at lunchtime if it wasn’t too busy in the lumberyard, and sometimes after work. The sun went down earlier in late summer, but there was still enough light to go jogging or hike on one of the trails along Lake Norman.

Tonight, it was gorgeous. The lake sparkled with a golden light, and the blue sky was streaked with low clouds tinged in shades of pink and orange. There were a few boaters on the water, a family of four picnicking lakeside on a boulder, couples canoodling, their gazes focused on the horizon…or on each other.

Woodpeckers tapped their staccato greeting in hollowed trees as I cut through the woods, my mind wandering in a new direction. There were so many bird varieties in the area: woodpeckers, thrushes, warblers, and owls. I didn’t know much about birds, but they were kind of fascinating. Maybe they could be my new pastime. I could bring some binoculars out here and…I don’t know, study them or something.

No, I could make houses for them.

Shit. Viggo had already thought of that. And now, I was low-key jealous ’cause what I really needed was a project. Something to do with my hands. Hell, I was a good carpenter. I could make almost anything—bookshelves, coffee tables. But I didn’t want to sell furniture online.

I could offer to do some work on the house I was renting. The deck had a few rotted boards, and I’d bet it hadn’t been sanded in a decade. Yeah, I liked that idea. Hopefully, Jed, the owner and Wood Hollow’s lone taximan, would approve. Then again, why wouldn’t he? I’d be doing the work for free and⁠—

What was Mr. La Rue doing in the middle of the path at dusk?

The old man stood with his hands on his hips, taking up so much space that it was impossible to jog around him. He stared at a trailhead sign, mumbling under his breath.

“This is wrong. It’s wrong. It wasn’t here yesterday. I know it wasn’t. Someone moved it.”

I stopped abruptly, pulling my ear buds out and waving. “Good evenin’, Mr. La Rue. Beautiful night for a stroll.”

He blinked, his eyes wide with uncertainty. “Who are you?”

We hadn’t formally been introduced, and I seemed to have thrown him off guard. I didn’t want to frighten him. I’d taken my shirt off at my three-mile mark and stuck it into my pocket, leaving my inked chest on full display. Maybe that was it. I slipped my tee over my head and tried again.

“Waylon Gibbons. I manage the lumber department at Mill Depot for Cooper and Hank.”

“I know Cooper. He’s a good kid,” Mr. La Rue said cautiously.

Cooper was a grown adult in his forties, but okay.

“He’s a good boss, too.” I glanced at the sign he was studying and spotted a blue-crested bird perched on the corner. For some reason, that made me feel better. “Are you a bird watcher?”

“Huh? No, but that’s a warbler.” He pointed meaningfully and continued shaking his head and mumbling.

“Ah, I should probably know that. I was just thinking about birdhouses and⁠—”

“It’s wrong. The sign is wrong.”

Okay, not birds or birdhouses.

“Elmwood isn’t four miles from here?”

“This shouldn’t be here,” he grumbled, ignoring my question.

Yeah…something was wrong.

“The sign?”

“Yes! The sign.”

“Is it out of place?”

He nodded vigorously. “Yes. It’s hidden here by the lake. No one can see it. If this one isn’t where it oughtta be, that means there could be one directing people to go left when they should go right. It’s a terrible mix up. Terrible.” The old man’s anxiety ratcheted to a new level with every word. His cell beeped loudly from a pocket in his khaki shorts, but he ignored it, pacing the signage with his hands on his hips. “We have to tell someone. Now!”

I pulled out my phone. “I’ll make a call, okay?”

“Hurry it up, would ya?”