Her Husband’s Life Insurance Company Refused to Pay. She Didn’t Know I Was the Last Person Who Saw Him Alive

She arrived on a gray afternoon in a rental car. Fifty years old. Silver-blond hair to her shoulders, a green wool coat, eyes that had done a lot of crying and were done with it.

She shook my hand on the lodge porch.

“I’m told you’re the owner,” she said. “My husband used to fish here. He loved this river more than any place in the world. I brought his ashes. I’d like to scatter them where he was happiest.”

I had to hold the porch rail.

“I knew David,” I said. “We served together.”

She stared at me.

“You’re Sam,” she said slowly. “He talked about you all the time. You’re the one he called when he couldn’t sleep.”

I nodded. I couldn’t trust my voice.

“Then you were here,” she said. “When it happened.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“I need to ask you something,” she said finally. “And I need you to tell me the truth.”