"Twenty bucks? When have I ever paid that much for sunglasses?"
"Go to hell."
Ty put a hand to his heart in mock despair. "Is that how you treat a paying customer?"
"The key word is paying." Gus dismissed him and turned to Carine, his tone softening. "You don't ever have to see the Rancourts again, you know. You quit, right?"
She nodded. "If I'd just taken my camera with me during lunch-"
"If Jodie Rancourt and Louis Sanborn had just behaved themselves."
"I promised Sterling we'd be discreet."
"Too bad his wife wasn't."
"It's water over the dam at this point," Carine said. "I hope the Boston police will be here soon. I just want to get it over with."
"Go put the chicken on. Cooking'll help keep things in perspective."
The screen door creaked open, and Eric Carrera wandered unexpectedly into the store, making his way back to the counter. Flushed and out of breath, he spoke first to Gus. "My friend and I are in town collecting leaves for earth science class," he said. "How's it going, Mr. Winter?"
"Not bad, Mr. Carrera," Gus replied.
Ty, eyes narrowed as he took in the boy's appearance, stood up from the glass cabinet. "No trees on campus?"
Eric shifted, deliberately avoiding contact with his father's friend. "Yes, sir, there are, but not any ginkgoes and larch trees. There's a ginkgo in front of the Cold Ridge library…" But the boy's voice trailed off, and he sniffled, coughing as he adjusted his backpack and pretended to look at a rack of lipbalms. He had on his habitua lcargo pants, today's too-big hooded sweatshirt from Amherst College. "I saw your truck out front, and I-I was wondering if you'd heard anything from my dad."
"Not today." He stepped toward Eric, forcing the boy to face him. "You have your meds with you?"
Eric nodded. "I'm okay. I'm just-" He coughed, a sloppy sound in his chest, but he waved off any help, although Ty hadn't made a move in his direction. "My dad…the dead guy…that's not his real name. Louis Sanborn. You know about that, right? It was on the news."
Ty slung an arm over the boy's thin shoulders and maneuvered him to a wall of cross-country skis, sitting down with him on a wooden bench. Carine edged behind a rack of socks to eavesdrop, ignoring Gus's disapproving frown, but she suspected he was as shocked by Eric's news as she was-and wanted the details.
"We haven't heard anything," Ty said gently. "You want to fill me in? Relax, buddy, okay? Take your time."
Eric, who seemed to be making an effort to stay calm, coughed again, but with more control. "The police said the dead guy's identity doesn't check out. They don't know who he is. My dad told the police he doesn't know, either."
"That's what they said on the news?"
"Yeah. Yes, sir."
"Eric, is your dad under arrest?"
He shook his head, sniffling. "The reporter said the police are still not calling him a suspect. I don't know what that means. He's innocent, right, Uncle Ty? He didn't kill anyone?"
"Your dad's not a murderer, Eric."
Carine noticed Ty's careful choice of words and felt her abdominal muscles clamp down, a wave of nausea coming out of nowhere as the news sunk in. Louis San-born used a phony name? Why? Then who the hell was he? But she didn't move, didn't say anything.
"My mom called," Eric said. "She tried not to sound upset, but I can tell. She said if I need her, just say so and she'll come up here. I told her no."
"You haven't talked to your dad?"
He shook his head. "Not yet."
Ty glanced around the dark, quiet shop. Canoes and kayaks hung from the ceiling, but Gus & Smitty's was in winter mode. "Where's your friend who's collecting leaves with you?" But he'd obviously seen through the boy's lie immediately, and when Eric squirmed, Ty cuffed him on the shoulder and got to his feet. "Come on. I'll give you a ride back to school. If you want to come stay with me, we can work something out with the powers-that-be. Okay?"
"I still have to collect some stupid leaves."
"We can grab some on our way." He glanced back at Carine, pointing at her as if he'd known all along she was there. "Pick me out a pair of socks while you're at it." There was just the slightest hint of sarcasm in his tone. "I'll meet you at Gus's."
"North's good with the kid, I'll give him that," Gus said after they'd left. "I like Eric. He's got a lot of guts, coming up here to school. But, Christ, what next? It doesn't look good for Carrera."
"Something must not add up for the police not to have arrested him yet." Carine grabbed a pair of hiking socks, uneasy, restless. "I should have gone for my run this morning. Ty found a dead bat in my woodstove. I wonder what that means."
"It means you have bats."
"Can I take these socks?"
"Take?"
"I'm unemployed."
"You're self-employed. There's a difference."
She dug in her coat pockets, looking for money. "The police must be putting the thumbscrews to Manny. It's got to be killing Ty not to know what's going on. He doesn't say anything-"
"He won't. It's not his style. And it'd take more than thumb screws to get Carrera to talk if he doesn't want to."
"Why wouldn't he want to?"
"I didn't say he doesn't. Just don't you worry about it. He can take care of himself. I know, I know-so can you." He rubbed his booted toe over Stump's hind end, the dog wagging his tail in appreciation. "Something like this happens, it's like you're a little kid again. I can't help it."
Carine pulled a few quarters out of one pocket. "It's comforting to know there's someone in my life who cares as much as you do."
"Honey-"
"Don't go there, Gus. Ty's been a perfect gentleman. It's okay."
"Gentleman? Sure. I believe that."
"I'm handling being around him." She set the quarters on the counter. "I don't have my wallet with me."
"You can owe me."
"Do I at least get a discount?"
He offered ten percent. She argued for thirty and settled for twenty. When she tried to throw in new cross country skis and socks for Ty, he shooed her out the door.
It was dusk, the sun dipping behind the mountains in a pink glow as Carine made the familiar three-quarter mile walk up the hill to her uncle's house. She smelled smoke from a fireplace in the neighborhood. She kicked through dry, fallen leaves on the sidewalk, and when she got to the house, she sat on the top step of the front porch. She could see herself and Ty as kids up in the maple tree in the side yard, still sweating and panting from raking up the huge pile of leaves under their thick branch. He threatened to push her if she didn't jump on her own.
Saskia North had never come up to Gus's house. Not once, not even to pick up her son. Ty had been on his own for a long time. It was what he knew, and Carine wondered if she'd been crazy to think he'd ever really let anyone in.
North dropped Manny's son off at school with his bag of leaves and a full head of worries. But there wasn't much Ty or anyone could do to ease the mind of a fourteen-year-old boy who knew his father was in a mess- who knew his father hadn't called to reassure him and probably wouldn't.
For which Ty could cheerfully strangle his friend. But on one level, he understood. Manny, in his own particular, annoying way, was doing his best to protect his son. He'd put everyone on a need-to-know basis. They could worry, they could get mad, but if he didn't think they needed to know something, he wasn't going to tell them.
Carine could try her burning bamboo shoots on Manny Carrera, too, but they wouldn't work.
Carine. Hell, she'd had no idea Louis Sanborn wasn't Louis Sanborn. It'd been obvious from her reaction. The guy she'd found dead-the guy she'd liked-wasn't who he said he was. If Manny had found out, it would explain why he'd headed to Boston to recommend Sterling Rancourt fire him. Rancourt couldn't employ someone who'd lied to him-especially for security.