“Well, I’m not technically supposed to share information like that, but…” She heard papers rustling. He sounded distracted. “Okay, I’m willing to make an exception in this case. I’m sure I’ve got the number here somewhere. Hold on a sec.”

He came back on the line and gave her the number, promised to stop by and see how the house was coming along the next time he was in the area.

The shower turned off and she heard Nate’s footsteps thumping down the hall to their tiny shoebox of a bedroom. She tucked the little notebook she’d written George Decrow’s number in into her purse.

“Babe?” Nate called half a minute later.

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen my phone?”

“No.” She looked around, scanning the table and kitchen counters. “I don’t see it out here.”

There was the sound of rummaging, of Nate muttering something under his breath.

“Find it?” Helen called.

Nate came out into the kitchen in his boxers and a T-shirt. “No. It’s crazy. I’m sure I left it on the shelf in the bedroom—the one I always put my wallet and phone on. I left it there when I went out bird-watching because the battery was nearly dead and I didn’t want it to get wet in the rain.”

“Maybe it’s in a jacket pocket or something?” Helen suggested. “Or out in the truck?”

“It couldn’t be in the truck because you had it in town all afternoon. No, I’m sure I left it in the bedroom.”

“Maybe it’s up at the site,” Helen suggested. “You had it this morning. We used the calculator, remember?”

“Yeah, but I brought it back down, I’m sure.”

“You should go check. I bet it’s up there, under the first pop-up, on the table next to the saw.”

Nate went and checked. He came back empty-handed and irritated.

“Where does shit go around here?” he asked. “Yesterday, the level; today, my phone.”

Helen thought. It wasn’t just those things that had gone missing. They’d lost the broom. Helen’s favorite coffee mug. Other things had disappeared, too. Money from their wallets seemed to go missing—never all of it—just a ten here, a five there. Two days ago, Helen had splurged and bought a bumbleberry pie at the general store. When she went to get it from the fridge after dinner, it was gone.

“Maybe you left it at the store?” Nate suggested when she insisted that she’d bought a special surprise—Nate’s favorite—for dessert, but it was now missing. “Or just thought about buying it, then got distracted by all the other stuff on your list?”

“Maybe,” she said, beginning to doubt herself.