Mallory didn’t have time to acknowledge the fact that they were neighbors. The thought of a house rapidly plunged underwater was too terrifying to ignore.
“Why didn’t anyone tell her about the dam breaking?”
“Apparently, the water rushed from the dam like a wall. She didn’t have time to get out. From what my dad told me, at least it was really fast.”
“Oh my God,” Mallory murmured. “That’s awful.” She swallowed hard as her earlier fear about the lake rising up to swallow her returned. The idea grew gruesome in her mind. Mallory saw water pouring in through the windows of her bedroom, soaking her comforter until it weighed more than an anchor.
Kylie’s face was grim as she continued. “Yes, it was. After that, there were several more drownings in the lake, a few years apart. Boating accidents mainly.”
“And they all happened in October?”
“So Joel told you that too.” Kylie smiled to ward off Mallory’s panic. “Don’t worry, okay? McNamara is a safe town. People aren’t always careful in water, and it’s normal for there to be careless deaths like that. There’s only been one person killed with a gun here, like, ever.”
The muscles in Mallory’s neck tensed up again, and Kylie bit her lip like she sensed she had said the wrong thing.
“What happened then?”
“I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” Kylie said, looking down. “I was talking about the hunting accident.”
“In the woods?”
“Um, no. Oh, jeez. I thought you knew. It’s what I meant about being careful.”
“What happened?”
Kylie placed her hands back on the cart and gripped it like the handlebars of a bicycle she desperately wished she could use to escape the conversation. Her mouth pulled down at both edges. Mallory read the expression as deep sadness—the kind that had never been fully released. She laid her hand flat on top of one of Kylie’s, which prompted her to continue.
“A bullet went wild from the woods near the lake and right through a window.”
A pulse of grief came off her as Kylie continued speaking.
“They never found the hunter. Probably an out-of-towner who didn’t understand what a stray bullet could do and how close they were to a residence. They likely didn’t know they had hurt someone.”
The other woman’s eyes filled with sorrow, and Mallory wondered if Kylie had known the victim. She asked her next question gently, relieved to be comforting someone else for a change.
“I’m so sorry, Kylie. Did you know him?”
“Yes,” she said. Her eyes were magnified by the tears pooling in them. “He was my brother.”
“Oh, Kylie. I’m so sorry. What a terrible accident.”
The other woman bowed her head. The movement caused a tear to slip from her eye in a single line down her cheek.
“Yes, it was.”
Mallory and Kylie regarded each other for a moment, united by their shared losses. Then Kylie blinked and rubbed her eyes.
“We should probably get you on your way home. You must have a lot to do.”
“I do.” Mallory paused. She didn’t want to pry, but the woman’s earlier words made her wonder if there was something she should be doing to keep herself safe. “But why did you say that I should be careful?”
Kylie looked miserable.
“Because he was killed in your house.”
CHAPTER FOUR
As they finished filling Mallory’s cart, she was happy to let Kylie redirect their conversation back to the deep health benefits of a bean-focused diet while her own thoughts wandered. The information Kylie had passed on left Mallory feeling foggy-headed. Once again, the unprocessed emotions she had carried around with her since Graham’s death descended like a thick veil. No wonder the house had remained empty for so long. Mallory knew it was difficult to sell a residence after a death had occurred within it. A few potential buyers of her own home had become leery after learning that Graham had passed away in the front room.
At the register, Mallory learned that the store could not accept credit cards. Kylie explained that everyone in McNamara ran a tab that they paid off in cash at the end of each month. Setting up her own seemed both deliciously old-fashioned and incredibly reassuring. She had climbed the first step to being accepted as a McNamara local.
As she exited the store with Kylie’s call to come back soon echoing behind her, she noticed the building behind the grocery store was marked “Police Station.” She wondered if Sergeant Benson was inside, searching to solve the mystery of the earlier drowning. Had he been able to determine the name of the victim? Though she expected the memory of his visit to fill her with trepidation, instead she experienced a flutter of reassurance as she thought of how closely connected he was to Kylie. For some reason, the knowledge of their relationship gave her a sense that the man would handle the investigation fairly. He too had lost someone close to him due to an odd twist of fate—an accident that no one could have predicted or prevented.
Once safely buckled into her car, she headed out of the parking lot to turn left. Her vehicle was the only one on the street, so she drove slowly to clear her head and take further notice of her surroundings. Already, the storefronts had begun to seem more familiar than foreign. Across the street from Kylie’s, the cluttered hardware store window caught her attention once again, but this time, Mallory noticed that there were additional pieces less prominent than the bright deck chairs. Tucked into the far corner was a line of rifles forming a military salute to a mounted deer head that had garish orange vests hung from its antlers. She thought of the stray bullet that had sheared through the window in her house, and her neck tensed. She needed to talk to Betty Barber, she thought as she passed the woman’s office, which was unfortunately closed. Wasn’t it illegal not to disclose a violent death to a new buyer? She tried to recall how her Vancouver real estate agent had told those looking at her own home about Graham’s death. Had she volunteered the information? Or waited to be asked? The memories were vague and indistinct, painted in oversaturated watercolors.
Her mind sped as quickly as the scenes of McNamara outside her car. Directly across from Betty’s office, she saw a seedy-looking bar that she had missed earlier, with a small school located somewhat incongruently right behind it. On the corner at the end of the main street was a small brick building displaying an elegantly painted sign that declared it to be the town library. From her conversation with the sergeant, she now knew that it employed her closest neighbor, Carlotta, whom she decided she would try to meet tomorrow.
She turned onto the dirt road that would lead her home. To her left was a run-down trailer on the corner that she hadn’t registered on her previous trip. The small building looked derelict enough to be abandoned, but there was a beat-up car parked outside. Its peeling painted sides and sagging bottom were precariously propped up on four rounds of wood, suggesting a previous flood. Mallory shuddered as she remembered the story Kylie had relayed about poor Alice Halloway, and she pressed the gas harder to get past the dilapidated trailer.
In contrast, down the road stood a pretty white-shingled cottage that apparently belonged to Carlotta. Its black roof and white exterior made it look like something out of a Beatrix Potter story. Unlike its closest neighbor, the little house appeared to be meticulously maintained. It sat in the center of a perfectly mowed swath of lawn. The bright-yellow door was flanked by two uniformly trimmed rosebushes, each of which had unfurled late-season yellow roses in nearly the same shade as the door. The lovely home briefly lifted her spirits, and Mallory’s curiosity bubbled up at the thought of meeting the residents of both the perfect cottage and the falling-apart trailer. As Kylie had said, in a town this small, it was bound to happen sooner rather than later.