The Silent Girl

opposite shore, the sun was dropping toward the horizon, leafing the water with flame and gold. She saw rustic cabins ahead, and a cluster of canoes pulled up on the bank. On the pier, a towheaded girl stood waiting to catch the mooring line. As soon as Jane caught a closer look at the girl’s face, she knew that these two were brother and sister.
    “This troublemaker here is Samantha,” Will said with a laugh and he affectionately mussed the girl’s hair. “She’s our general gofer around here. You need a toothbrush, extra towels, whatever, just give her a shout.”
    As the girl went scampering up the pier with the guest’s bag, Jane said: “She looks like she’s about eight, nine? Don’t you both go to school?”
    “We’re homeschooled. Too hard getting to town in the winter. My dad always tells us that we’re the luckiest kids in the world, to be living out here in paradise.” He led her up the path to one of the cabins. “Mom put you in this one. It’s got the most privacy.”
    They climbed the steps to the screened porch, and the doorsquealed shut behind them. Samantha had brought Jane’s bag into the cabin and it sat on a rustic luggage rack at the foot of the bed. Jane looked up at open beams, at walls of knotty pine. A fire was already crackling in the stone hearth.
    “Everything look okay?” asked Will.
    “I wish I’d brought my husband here. He’d love this place.”
    “Bring him back next time.” Will gave her a salute and turned to leave. “Once you get settled in, come over to the lodge for dinner. I think we’re having beef stew.”
    After he left, she sank into a rocking chair on the screened porch and sat watching the sunset burn a fire in the lake. Insects hummed, and the sound of lapping water made her drowsy. She closed her eyes and did not see the visitor approach her cabin. Only when she heard the knock did she look out to see the blond woman standing outside the screen door.
    “Detective Rizzoli?” the woman said.
    “Come in.”
    The woman stepped inside, careful to keep the door quiet as it swung shut. Even in the shadowy porch, Jane could see the woman’s resemblance to Will and Samantha, and she knew that this was their mother. She also knew, without a doubt, what her name was. It was Ingersoll’s oddly timed fishing trip that had made Jane focus on Loon Point, a trip on which he’d brought no tackle box. This was the real reason Ingersoll had come to Maine: to visit the woman who now stood on Jane’s cabin porch.
    “Hello, Charlotte,” said Jane.
    The woman glanced through the screen, scanning the area for anyone within earshot. Then she looked at Jane. “Please don’t ever use that name again. My name is Susan now.”
    “Your family doesn’t know?”
    “My husband does, but not the children. It’s just too hard to make them understand. And I never want them to know what kind of man their grandfather …” Her voice trailed off. With a sigh she sank intoone of the rocking chairs. For a moment the only sound was the creak of her chair on the porch.
    Jane stared at the woman’s profile. Charlotte—no, Susan—was only thirty-six, yet she looked much older. Years in the outdoors had freckled her skin, and her hair already had silvery streaks. But it was the pain in her eyes that aged her the most, pain that had left deep creases and a haunted gaze.
    Leaning her head back against the rocker, Susan stared off at the darkening lake. “It started when I was nine years old,” she said. “One night, he came into my room while my mother was sleeping. He told me I was old enough. That it was time for me to learn what all daughters were supposed to do. We’re supposed to please our daddies.” She swallowed. “So I did.”
    “Didn’t you tell your mother?”
    “My mother?” Susan’s laugh was bitter. “My mother’s concerns never extended beyond her own selfish interests. After she started her affair with Arthur Mallory, it took her only two months to fly the coop. She never looked back. I’m not sure she even remembered that she
had
a daughter. So I was left behind with my father, who was only too happy to retain custody. Uncontested, of course. Oh, a few times a year, I was scheduled to spend weekends with Mom and Arthur, but she pretty much ignored me. Arthur was the only one who showed me any real kindness. I didn’t know him well, but he seemed like a decent man.”
    “What about his son, Mark?”
    There was a long silence. “I didn’t