Free The Back Door of Midnight by Elizabeth Chandler

lower part of their grounds on each side go wild and marshy, so you can’t walk—you can’t even wade the shoreline all the way through. They own several houses and are here only in the fall and spring. They put out a floating dock then. It’s Marcy’s family,” he said. “Her adoptive family.”
    “Her
adoptive
family?” He had hit a nerve. “Meaning not her real family?”
    “Sorry?”
    “Meaning just her adoptive family, which is something less than being her birth family?”
    He frowned. “I didn’t mean that at all.”
    “Then why even mention it?” I asked.
Let it go, Anna,
I told myself, but I couldn’t.
    “Because Marcy mentions it—a lot.” He had stopped rowing and was studying my face, as if trying to understand. “You’re adopted,” he guessed.
    “Obviously.”
    “Your family must miss you,” he said.
    If he thought I was going to give him the details of my family life, he was wrong. We floated in silence.
    “You said they were on vacation. Where?”
    “Massachusetts.”
    “So, do you have any brothers and sisters?” Halfway through the question, he hesitated, as if he thought I might jump down his throat again.
    “Two sisters and a brother.” The boat rocked gently, the water lapping against its side. “How about you?”
    He shook his head. “Just Dad. And Marcy.”
    “I like Marcy,” I said.
    He looked surprised. “You do? You’ve met her?”
    “I’m working for her.”
    “You’re
what
?!”
    “She hired me today.”
    He grimaced. “Well, good luck.”
    “I’m surprised your friend didn’t tell you that I stopped by her shop.” The tone of my voice gave away my feelings about his friend.
    “What friend?” he asked, caution seeping into his voice.
    “The guy at Tea Leaves. The guy who followed me down to the park, then up High Street. Either he’s a lousy stalker or he was trying to intimidate me.”
    Without comment, Zack picked up the oars and started to row.
    “Why?” I asked. “Why did he do that?”
    Zack’s face was a mask, his eyes avoiding mine, which was a mistake: As long as I wasn’t looking in his eyes, I had a fighting chance against the spell they cast.
    “What is your friend’s connection to the fire?” I persisted. “What is his connection to my uncle’s death? What’s yours?”
    He rowed in silence. We rounded a bend in the creek, and his home slid into view.
    “Tell me what you know,” I demanded.
    “It’s complicated, Anna.”
    “There’s nothing like facts to make things simpler.”
    But he wouldn’t answer me. Letting one oar drop, he steered with the other as we drifted toward the Flemings’ dock. His long fingers caught the rope that I had so carefully untied. While he secured the boat, I unfastened my life jacket.
    “You have three choices,” Zack said. “You can climb without my help and scrape your knees. I can give you a push from behind. Or I can climb out first and give you a hand from above. Which would you like?”
    “A hand from above.”
    He scrambled out of the boat, then extended his hand, pulling me up easily.
    “Anna.” He stood so close, I could smell the creek on him. “Take care of Iris. And let the police take care of the rest.”
    Mere closeness was as dangerous as his eyes. “Is that advice or a warning?” I asked.
    “Both.”

nine
    I WALKED TOWARD the gate in the hedge alone, veering from Zack’s path as soon as I could. I heard a dog barking, a shrill whistle, then the sound of a door closing. The yard was suddenly quiet.
    “I’ve been waiting for you.”
    The voice came from behind me, and I jumped, letting go of the gate I had just opened.
    “I didn’t mean to scare you,” the woman said. The voice was that of an older woman. In the thin light coming from the Flemings’ windows, her hair looked white, a fluffy halo around her head. “You’re Joanna’s daughter.”
    “Yes. I’m Anna.”
    “I saw you with the goats yesterday.”
    I remembered the stocky figure in the