The House on Creek Road. Caron Todd

Your Security Needs Since 1975. Not expecting much, Jack had decided to see what Daniel had to offer.

      The older man lived alone on the edge of town, in a story-and-a-half house with crocheted doilies protecting his sofa and chair from the touch of his head and hands. Down in his basement, it was another world. Metal shelves were filled with precisely organized equipment—cameras, tape recorders and other machines Jack couldn’t identify. It turned out Daniel wasn’t a retired farmer, as he had supposed. He was a retired cop. RCMP Special Branch, long disbanded and replaced by CSIS, the Canadian Security Intelligence Service. A retired spy? He couldn’t be.

      Once Daniel knew Jack was there on business his tendency to gossip had stopped, just like that, like turning off a tap. Still, Jack was cautious. Taking his cue from Daniel’s ad, he’d said kids were poking around his place, not causing any real trouble, but he wanted to find out who they were. He had come away with two small cameras that could be hidden under the eaves near his front and back doors, and an electric eye to place at the end of the driveway. Anyone driving or walking in would trigger the cameras, so intruders would film themselves. Daniel liked the irony. And Jack liked knowing Reid wouldn’t surprise him again.

      ELEANOR HAD SETTLED INTO THE CHAIR by the woodstove, her feet up on a three-legged stool one of her great-grandchildren had made in shop class. “Do you mind if we don’t work today, Elizabeth?”

      “Of course not,” Liz said quickly. Over the past few days, they had decided the fate of nearly every stick of furniture in the house. Eleanor had struggled to be objective, but each piece held a bit of personal history, and some choices had been hard to make. “Are you all right, Grandma?”

      “It’s nothing a quiet day won’t fix. You’ll find you slow down a little in your ninth decade, too.”

      Liz reached for a banana muffin. Eleanor would hate it if she fussed. “I can use the day to finish getting ready for my visit to the school tomorrow.” She had agreed to show Pam’s students how a book was made and to help them make books of their own.

      “That will be such a treat for the children.” Eleanor closed her eyes.

      Liz felt a jolt of concern. How could her grandmother be tired in the morning, after a good night’s sleep? She’d been old for as long as Liz had known her, but she’d always been strong and full of energy.

      For every bit of work Liz had saved her grandmother since she’d arrived, she’d probably caused just as much. Tonight she’d take care of dinner, something simple, soup and sandwiches. Tomorrow, she’d get up in time to make breakfast. When Eleanor came down to the kitchen she’d find tea and eggs ready and waiting.

      “Are you enjoying your visit, Elizabeth?” Eleanor’s eyes were open again, and they looked clear and alert. “I hoped it would be more than work for you.”

      “It is, much more.” Liz wasn’t exactly enjoying it, but she was glad to be here. She was getting used to finding ghosts around every corner. Relatives, too. People were always dropping by for a hot cup, keeping a finger on the pulse of each other’s lives. “I’m not sure how well I handled things at the barbecue, though.” Other than agreeing how attractive the yard had looked and how good the food had tasted, they had avoided discussing Saturday’s party.

      “Very well, I thought.”

      “Except when I saw Wayne Cooper.”

      “It would have been more thoughtful for him to stay away.”

      “Jack…sort of rode shotgun for me.”

      “That sounds like Jack.”

      There was the proprietary tone again, as if Eleanor had raised him herself and was proud of how he was doing. She acted almost as if he were her grandson or nephew. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was the unacknowledged offspring of a wandering great-uncle and he’d come to Three Creeks to claim what he thought was rightfully his.

      “Nobody minded giving an opinion about Susannah’s wedding.”

      “Uninformed opinions and plenty of head-shaking. Interest in Susannah’s marriage will die down soon.”

      Liz hesitated. “Was there as much gossip about me?”

      “When you left? No. People were very quiet about that.” Eleanor sighed. “It was all a long time ago, Elizabeth. You were angry and you wanted nothing more than to put this place behind you. But fifteen years…wouldn’t it be best for you to make peace with what happened once and for all?”

      Liz looked away from her grandmother. How could she make peace with it, even if she wanted to? That was like saying it didn’t matter, all was well that ended well, water under the bridge.

      “Ah, my dear. But you came to help me anyway, feeling as you do about the place. Sweet child.”

      “I’m thirty-three, Grandma.”

      “A baby. But you’ll grow up one day, I suppose.”

      It almost hurt to see the affection on her grandmother’s face. For the first time Liz got an inkling of what tending her anger at the people of Three Creeks had cost her. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you before.” Uncertainly, she added, “I think you’ve been disappointed in me.”

      Eleanor didn’t deny it. “It’s always a pity to waste time. Now, you need to get out and get some fresh air. Who knows how long these lovely fall days will last? Why not return that pie plate to Jack for me? I meant to do it days ago. Take the girls with you—they’ll enjoy seeing him, too.”

      THE DOGS HURRIED AHEAD when they realized they were going to Jack’s. By the time Liz got to the house, all three of them were waiting for her on the back stoop. Jack looked distracted, as if he had been deep in thought or in the middle of some engrossing project, and was having trouble adjusting to the interruption.

      “I should have called—”

      “No need for that.” He leaned down, rubbing the dogs’ ears. “Good girls,” he said soothingly. “Fine, beautiful girls.” They rested their heads against his legs.

      “You’re so good with them. I’m surprised you don’t have a dog of your own.”

      “I’ve thought about getting one. Some big, friendly mutt who’d follow me from my truck to the field to the foot of my bed…I don’t know. Pumpkins are needy enough.” He gave a quick grin. It didn’t erase the impression that he’d meant what he’d said.

      She held up a neatly creased paper bag. “Grandma asked me to return your pie plate.”

      He gave each dog one last pat, then took the bag and moved aside so Liz could get through the door. “I was just going to make a hot drink. Join me?”

      “That would be great. It was a chilly walk. Is it cold for October, or have I forgotten what it’s like here?”

      “Snow by Halloween, people are saying.”

      Liz followed Jack into the kitchen. It was a large room, the most important room in the house at one time, with space for cooking and canning, separating cream from milk, churning butter, eating and visiting. It didn’t feel welcoming, though, not like Eleanor’s kitchen. Wires and pieces of something mechanical were spread out on a Formica-topped table, competing for space with a fax machine and laptop computer. “I’m interrupting you.”

      He hooked a finger through the handles of two mugs and grasped a bag of coffee beans with his other hand, closing the cupboard door with his elbow. “I was ready for a break…and I’m glad to have company.”

      The coffee grinder whirred into action. Jack packed the grounds into the filter of a stainless steel espresso and cappuccino maker. “Should I froth some milk?”

      “I’ll take it straight. It’s days since I’ve had a proper cup of coffee.”

      Steaming liquid, dark and pungent, flowed into one mug, then the other. Jack led the way into the living room. “Make