“Why didn’t you tell me?” That was what bothered her the most. “Why keep it a secret?”
“Mr. Harte asked me to. He liked it when I dropped by, and he was afraid you would forbid me from doing it.”
He was right. If she had known… There was no point in going down that road. It wouldn’t help the hurt she felt now that Fox had kept secrets from her.
He gave her the look that melted her heart. “I’m sorry, Mom, I hated keeping it from you.”
“Then why did you?”
“Well…I liked Mr. Harte. I know what everyone has always said about him. And I know that you think he killed Grandpa—”
“He did kill Grandpa.”
“I don’t want to get into that.”
“How do we not get into it when the man killed my dad? And now I find out that my own son was friends with him?”
He tightened his lips and Raven knew she had shut him up. Fox was real good about talking with her until she got angry and then he buttoned up. She bit back her anger and tried again. “What did Earl say about my father?”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“I need to know, Fox.”
Fox looked off to the side. Raven turned off her wheel. She was too keyed up to make anything worth keeping. She threw a piece of plastic over the clay. It would wait until later.
“He claimed that he never meant for Grandpa to die. That it had been an accident.”
It was her turn to bite her lips. Because she knew, without a doubt, Earl had planned to set off those charges when her father was panning in the riverbed. It had been deliberate. It had been premeditated. Murder.
With difficulty she kept a hold of her tongue. If she said anything now, Fox would completely shut down on the subject. Her body shook with the effort it took to keep quiet.
“Is this going to affect my movie night?” Fox asked, his eyes downcast.
She wanted to send him to his room. Lock him up and never let him out of her sight. Look at what had been going on right under her nose! She rubbed her forehead forgetting that her hands where covered in clay slip until the grittiness transferred onto her skin. “Go and make your calls, but we’ll talk about this later, Fox.”
He stood, gaze cast downward. “Yes, Mom.” He left, trailing his backpack behind him.
She picked up a wooden wedge, twisting it between her fingers. And here she had always thought she’d been an observant mother. What else had she missed?
Aidan heaved the mattress back onto the bed. It flopped like a dead fish. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t sleep here, not until he had the place cleaned up. He’d disposed of the dead raven in the stove, but there wasn’t any wood to burn. Since his father hadn’t returned this summer, he hadn’t chopped the cords of wood waiting outside. Aidan was in no condition to be stomping around in the trap-infested yard with a walking boot chopping wood. He looked around at the sad bedroom that used to be his. It had been left pretty much the same. A corkboard full of school accomplishments. Art awards that his dad hadn’t cared a fart for. Amateur drawings of totems that had been the spark for his graphic novels, hockey sticks stood forgotten in the corner along with his skates. Dried stalks of fireweed he’d hung as a remembrance of the first time he and Raven had made love. They were dry and dusty and broken. He couldn’t help but see the comparison.
He rubbed his hands together. It was getting colder. The sun had set and he needed heat.
Raven was right. He wasn’t ready to stay here tonight. But how did he get back? He had the keys to the rental, but his right foot was also in a boot. It wasn’t a cast—he could take it off. He’d done that in order to shower this morning. But driving was different.
He had two choices, stay and suffer through what would was bound to be a miserable, cold night bundled in dirty blankets, or return to the lodge. The lodge won out. Tomorrow he’d return better prepared.
He grabbed the map Fox had drawn from his coat pocket and smoothed it out. The kid was talented. Raven needed to help him develop it. Aidan knew she would encourage him, which was more than he had ever had as a boy.
Using a small flashlight, he locked up the cabin and navigated the tricky path toward his SUV. There was no breeze. The area was devoid of sound, other than his footsteps crunching in the snow and his breathing. Off to the right he caught a flash of light. Two small pinpoints. He came to a full stop, his heart pounding.
A black wolf stood observing him—just outside of Earl’s property—his yellow eyes shining in the moonlight. Aidan swallowed. The wolf was beautiful, dangerous, wild. And he scared the shit out of him. He’d left the guns inside the cabin. The wolf could be on him before he hobbled back to safety. He was midway between the back door of the cabin and the SUV.