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I managed to get my dad back in the boat. Mac helped us push off. Dad grumbled the whole way back.

I feared I was going to have a whole night of this with him. But after he got some dinner in him, Dad’s mood improved considerably.

“I’m worried, Mercy,” he said. “It was one thing when Geneva was getting harassed. This was targeting you. It means someone’s figured out exactly how you’re trying to help her. And maybe how close you’re coming to the truth.”

“I don’t feel like I am,” I said. “Every clue we’ve uncovered could point in more than one direction. I don’t know for sure whether those letters were all sent from the same person. Or even if they have any relation to the person stalking Geneva. It’s just the only lead I’ve got.”

“Those postmarks mean something. They’re not random. It’s a pattern. It is the same person sending them. I feel that in my bones. I know you do too. Some of those letters sent from different postmarks were on the same bespoke torn paper. What more proof do we need?”

“Then there’s the book,” I said. “Can we be sure the phrase Geneva’s attacker uttered really came from it?”

“It can’t be random. It’s not a common phrase.”

“And Boone Sidney has a copy of it,” I said. “Why? How? He lied to me about his relationship with his father. And for him to have a copy of The Traveler’s Guide right there in his lobby. I had the thing in my hand! If his girlfriend hadn’t shown up, I would have stolen it. But none of that is proof Boone is involved in this.”

“I think that’s getting harder to deny,” Dad said. “It’s good that you’re trying to remain objective. Even skeptical. And I probably could have been swayed either way. Until tonight. Someone messed with my boat, Mercy. I’m telling you. It means you’re getting close. I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“What do you mean?”

He dropped his head. “What if I can’t protect you?”

“Dad ...”

“I’m serious. It’s one thing when you’re just trying to figure out whether Kent Derby’s wife is cuckolding him.”

“Cuckolding?”

“You know what I mean,” he said. “This could get dangerous.”

“I know how to be careful,” I said. I went up and put my arms around my dad’s shoulders. He reached up and patted my shoulder.

“I hope so,” he said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, honey.”

“You won’t have to find out,” I said, giving him a squeeze. Then I thought of Geneva. In a lot of ways, we were in the same position. What would her father do if something happened to her?

It made his resentment of me completely understandable. Misplaced, but understandable.

In the morning, I’d have to run through the Kevin Bell gauntlet once again. Geneva had to know what was going on.

I texted Geneva first thing in the morning. She had a doctor’s appointment at eight, but said she’d be home by nine. Landon had to leave as soon as she got back, so she couldn’t leave her father alone in the house. As much as I wanted to avoid another confrontation with Kevin, I understood her dilemma. How long did I have before my own father would need that type of care?

Years, I hoped. And we weren’t the Bells. Dad had the means to hire help if it came to that. If he’d let me arrange for it, that was. But it was a bridge to cross another day.

I turned down the dirt road to Geneva’s house a few minutes before nine. I could see her car wasn’t in the driveway, so I decided to hang back. It was one thing to have to face her father with Geneva in the room. I had no desire to sit and drink coffee alone with the man.

It was garbage day. Further down the road, I watched as the waste management truck made its way down the road. I recognized the scruffy kid in the back as the grandson of one of the men in my dad and Uncle Lloyd’s golf league.

Devon? Dillon? I couldn’t remember his name. I racked my brain, trying to recall it before he noticed me too.

Dustin! It came to me. Nice kid. Strong. Athletic. Dad said he was a star on the Helene High School football team.

Dustin hopped off the truck at the farmhouse further down on the opposite side of the road, rolled the next tote over to the lift arm, and hoisted it with ease. I rolled my window down to call out a hello, but the loud churn of the hydraulic system drowned me out.

Then I saw movement to my right. Someone emerged from the service door connected to the garage at Geneva’s house.

I expected to see Landon. Instead, it was his father. Kevin Bell pushed his own large garbage tote out from the side of the house. I read his lips as he swore, realizing he was almost out of time to get the thing to the end of the driveway before the truck came to his stop. There was just one more house before his. Kevin yelled for Landon. He waited a beat as the truck approached.

I started to open my door. No way could Kevin manage to get that tote down the driveway on his own. It was on wheels just like he was, but the driveway had a steep slope. The momentum would likely drag them both down out of control.