What is he up to? It struck Nick as odd that he had not encountered the detective yet: surely he and Beth had been close the past year. How close? Suppose Brice stumbled upon Andy Hocum. Would the old man talk?
Feeling more helpless than he had ever felt in his life, at least the life he remembered, Nick stared at the road until Beth turned off on another road that was little more than a wagon track beside a small creek. A few minutes of bouncing over [p70] ruts and stones, and she turned off again, parking beside a grey, frame cabin.
“Here we are, darling.”
They got out, each taking a box from the back seat, and Nick followed her up the stairs to the porch. Beth set her box down and found the key. A moment later the lock clicked and she shoved the door open.
“Wait’ll I find the light, Nick,” she whispered.
A moment later, the light snapped on and a soft glow filled the front room of the cabin. They took the boxes to the kitchen and set them on the table, then went back into the front room
. Nick studied the place.
He liked the room a lot; there was a rugged manliness in the stone fireplace and the knotty pine walls, mingled with just a touch of Beth’s femininity to make it neat. All in all, it was a well laid out place. He was attracted to the oil paintings that hung about the walls.
“Like it?” Beth asked.
He nodded.