Claire showed up on a Tuesday afternoon.
I was down at the dock, crouched beside one of the kayaks with a length of rope twisted around my fingers, trying to work out a knot Noah had somehow made ten times worse the night before. The sun hung high over the lake, warm enough that the wood beneath my knees had heated almost uncomfortably. Everything was quiet except for the soft splash of water against the dock and the distant sound of music drifting from the open kitchen window.
Then I heard tires crunching against gravel.
I looked up just as a white SUV rolled slowly down the long driveway toward the house.
Something about it immediately felt wrong. Too sleek. Too polished compared to the muddy trucks and weather-beaten cars everyone else drove around here.
The passenger door opened f
