The Deepest Water by Kate Wilhelm Read Free Book Online

could have written the first draft months ago, or just recently. You can tell more by looking at the directory, when the sections are dated, but even that won’t be conclusive if he was doing a lot of rewriting, backing it up, rewriting again.”
    Caldwell shook his head. “He worked toward the beginning and the end all at once?”
    “I think it was the only way he could work.”
    He looked dubious, then asked, “Did he always back up to a floppy disk?”
    “Always.” He had drilled it into her head: Save , Save , Save .
    “Okay. Another item, another loose end. No floppy disk was in the computer. We made copies of his hard drive, and I understand that you and his agent, Christina Maas, will be going through his papers. When you do, will you let me know how near finished he was with this project? If you can tell,” he added, as if that would be impossible.
    “Why?”
    “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Our computer guy says he didn’t save or print out what he was working on the last time he used the computer, probably Friday night. At least, the top pages in the stack don’t match up with the last file he had open. Our guy found material in the automatic backup file before anyone messed around with the computer. But if your father didn’t save and exit properly, who turned the machine off, removed the floppy disk, and why?”
    Abby stared at him. “You don’t think it was a random act, do you? A hiker or camper, someone like that who came in?”
    “Of course not,” he said, leaving the loft, starting down the stairs.
    After a moment she followed. She had assumed someone had come in from the forest and shot her father, a drug-crazed someone looking for money, for something he could sell, or even just a crazy who saw the light and walked in. The door would have been unlocked.
    “So you can’t see that anything’s been disturbed?” Caldwell said, back in the living room, looking about unhappily.
    “No.” There were things of Willa’s that never used to be here, a painting, a hairbrush, a mirror with a silver frame and handle. She didn’t comment on any of those things, and neither did Caldwell, but she suspected that Detective Varney was making careful notes about them all.
    “Okay, what I’d like to do is have a little row around the lake, out to the black island, along the opposite shore. You up for that?”
    She started to ask why again, but since he never really answered her questions, she simply nodded. “But we should leave by four-thirty, or you’ll be on the mountain road in the dark.”
    “Oh. See, what we figured is that Varney will go ahead and drive out, and you and I will cross over in the boat and take your father’s van back to Eugene. And the dog.”
    Abby looked quickly at Detective Varney, who nodded.
    “We probably should clean out some of that stuff from the refrigerator,” the detective said, female and practical, as well as police professional, Abby thought.
    “I saw some paper bags over there,” Varney said, pointing, “want me to haul the perishables out and bring them to your place later this evening?”
    “No,” Abby said quickly, taken by surprise by the very female and practical side of the woman detective. “No. Just… drop it all off at the Halburtsons, if they want it. Or keep it. Or… dump it somewhere.”
    It didn’t take long to pack things up, carry them to the car, but then Abby said, “Wait a minute.” She hurried back inside and picked up the bowl of candy bars and took it out. Caldwell and Detective Varney were at the driver’s door, speaking in low voices. He came around the car and took the bowl.
    “I’ll be a minute,” he said.
    She understood that she had been dismissed and returned to the cabin. She never had felt lonely in this cabin, never afraid, or even aware of the silence, but suddenly the little building seemed filled with silence and emptiness. She walked to the kitchen counter and gazed out the window. Two bottles of