When Beth’s heart stopped racing, she grabbed her flashlight and got out. The site was small, probably only twelve-by-twelve feet, with a rustic brown picnic table. Was this the one her sister had sat on with Hailey? She would look at the photo again and try to match the view.
No one was camped on either side of the site. The flashlight picked up a thin trail leading to the lake. She pushed through the thorny shrubs a few feet until it broke out onto the lakeshore, water coming up over her flip-flops. There was no beach, no sand. The trees ended directly at the water. Across the lake, cabin lights stood out like glittering stars. Someone was softly playing a guitar. Warm water lapped against her shins. Crickets. Voices carried from the other campsites, laughter, children. She closed her eyes and listened, reminding herself of what it felt like to be a family. To be whole. She swayed her body, drifting with the waves, letting the night breeze move her hair. Her thoughts had made her melancholy, but she didn’t mind. She preferred it to the hard edge of grief. She was tired, though, she now realized.
Mosquitoes attacked her arms and legs as she made her way back to her car. She didn’t want to walk around searching for the bathrooms, so she went behind a bush, then brushed her teeth with water from her bottle and spit into the dirt. She rolled out the sleeping bag, spread it over the backseat, and fluffed a pillow that she’d “borrowed” from the motel. She stayed in her shorts and tank top and kept the windows down a few inches, enough to let in some air and a few wayward mosquitoes that she squished between her palms, then removed with wet wipes.
The gun was hidden under the back of the driver’s seat, loaded, with the safety on. She whispered good night to Amber’s photo and tucked it under the visor, then stared out the side window into the dark and munched on a protein bar, washed down with a lukewarm beer, until she stopped listening to every noise and her eyes felt heavy. Until her mind couldn’t hold on to any more worries and there was no danger of nightmares. Only velvety, soothing blackness.
CHAPTER 20
Beth climbed out of the car and slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops she’d left by the door. She rubbed at her arms, surprised by the morning chill, and glanced at the lake. Mist floated across the surface in a sheer curtain, draping over the dock and the shore, making it seem as though the trees were rising from the air. As if the campsite wasn’t already creepy enough.
After digging a hoodie out of her bag and wiggling into a pair of sweatpants, Beth walked to the washrooms—gun tucked into the hoodie’s front pouch, making it sag. She took note of the other campers. She was the only one moving around so far. Closest to her, three trucks were parked in the same site. One with a camper, then two tents. She heard snoring. Judging by all the beer cans on the table and the dirt bikes in the back of the trucks, it was a group of guys.
She nudged open the bathroom door with her foot, then stood back in case an animal came rushing out. Silence. She crept in, hand on the butt of the gun, and checked under each stall. She didn’t like the washroom, the plastic skylight, the dingy light bulb that blinked off and on. When she pulled back the thin shower curtain, a spider scurried across the black rubber mat.
She would use the toilets, but she’d shower later when everyone in the campground was awake to hear her scream for help. For a moment she thought she heard something rustling outside of the building. She stopped, her head cocked, but she didn’t hear the noise again.
Beth walked back to her site, staring at shadows in the bushes. A stump looked like a bear and a fallen tree had her panicking that it was the outstretched body of a cougar. She stiffened, every muscle in her body contracting to a hard rope. Then a small bird landed on the fallen tree.
She hurried the rest of the way. Coffee. Food. Sanity. She lifted the lid on her stove and studied the contraption. For the next fifteen frustrating minutes she attached and reattached the valve to the propane bottle, but the burner kept making a clicking sound and wouldn’t light. She’d filled the air with so much propane she was praying she didn’t blow the campsite up. She slammed the lid back down, then sat on top of the picnic table and ate handfuls of dry cereal.
She’d never put up a tent before. The poles kept sliding apart when she tried to thread them through the small loops, and she had to start over three times. She didn’t have a hammer, so she used a rock to slam the pins into the ground. She loaded her duffel bag into the tent.
When she lifted her cooler out of her trunk, it sloshed with melted ice. She pulled out a soggy egg carton, and it tore in her hands, sending a few eggs to smash on the ground. She used the hard edge of a cup to scrape up the mess and dump it into her firepit. Now she had gross eggs oozing over top of half-burnt logs. She kicked dirt over everything.
She stared out at the lake, watching the mist drift away, and scratched at the welts on her arms. Of course sleeping next to a lake and near a slow-moving, algae-covered creek would bring mosquitoes. Swarms and clouds of them, apparently. She bent over and slapped at one that was happily sucking blood from the top of her foot. She would have to buy repellant in town.
Still leaning down, she frowned at some marks in the dirt. Paw prints? She studied them closer. Definitely paw prints. She stood up. They led to the bushes by the creek.
She spun around—and screamed. A black, furry shape was moving around the firepit. It lifted its head and stared at her. One blue eye. One brown.
She exhaled. A dog. She’d almost had a heart attack. Where was his owner? She looked down the center road. The campground was quiet. Maybe someone had let him out so he could pee. He looked like one of those dogs who herd sheep. He could be from a nearby farm.
The dog was just standing there and watching her. Beth didn’t know anything about dogs—her mom had never wanted one—and she wasn’t sure if he was waiting for food or getting ready to attack. His tail wasn’t wagging, but he wasn’t growling either.
She whistled and held out her hand. Dogs were supposed to sniff you, right? His nostrils twitched but he didn’t come closer. She frowned. He sat on his haunches. Great. Did he think he she was going to make him breakfast? How was she going to get rid of him?
“Shoo!” She clapped a couple of times.
He rose and stalked deliberately toward her.
“Stay!” She held out her palm, but he’d already stopped and was nosing around in the firepit, getting ash all over his face. He licked at the eggs. “You’re hungry?” She moved around the side of the site, still holding her hand out as if that would actually keep him in place.
She was at her picnic table. She glanced around. Where was the bear spray? Something to make noise. The gun seemed excessive. Unless he lunged at her. Then all bets were off.
The dog moved away from the firepit and was now sniffing around in her cooler, which she had left open. Crunching sounds. He swallowed something. Licked his lips. Her eggs.
“Hey! Scram.”
He glanced at her and put his head back down. She took a step toward him and clapped louder. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he lifted his paw and pushed down on the side of the cooler until it toppled forward. The water ran out. He pawed at her remaining food, sliced open a package of bacon with his toenails, and delicately tugged a few pieces out.
She watched him with her mouth half open. The nerve of this dog. He wasn’t gulping at the food and he wasn’t skinny, at least not that she could tell under all that fur, but he didn’t look well brushed. He was shedding in clumps and his white parts were dirty, his underbelly muddy.
She took a few steps toward the dog with her hand outstretched. This time she would try a different approach. “Hi, baby. Can I pet you?” Her voice was sweet and crooning.
The dog eyed her warily and glanced toward the edge of the forest, his ears pricked in one direction, then the other. He had so much fur around his neck she couldn’t see if he was wearing a collar. He circled around the back of the cooler, staying a few feet away from her.
She relaxed. He was leaving.
Nope. He paused in fro
nt of the picnic table with his nose up in the air, sniffing in a back-and-forth pattern. Her bag of cereal. It was still out in the open.
“No!” She made a shooing gesture with her hand. “Go away!”
The dog glanced at her, slowly lifted a paw, then placed it on the bench seat.
“Don’t even think about it!” She took a few steps toward him.
He leapt onto the table, snatched the bag in his mouth, and jumped off the side. He landed so quietly he barely made a noise, then bolted for the woods.
She stared at the spot where he had disappeared. It was as if the trees had swallowed him. She couldn’t even hear a branch snapping. Maybe she’d ask around the campground and make sure no one was missing a dog. Then she’d firmly suggest they keep better control of him.
The guys at the other site had emerged from their camper and were drinking coffee out of stainless-steel flasks, laughing in low voices. They looked young. One was cooking bacon and eggs on a grill. The smell made her mouth water. Why wasn’t the dog bothering them?
They gave her curious smiles when she walked over. She spoke to the black-haired one who looked the friendliest. He also seemed familiar. She must have seen him around town.
“Don’t suppose you have an extra coffee? My stove’s broken.”
“Sure,” he said, filling a mug and handing it to her.
“Thanks.” She smiled. “Do you have a black dog?”
“Nope.” He shrugged and gave her a curious look. “Don’t you work at the diner?” Now she realized how she recognized him. She’d seen him with Jonny. “I thought you were living at the motel.” News really did get around fast. She wondered what else he knew about her.
“Yeah, it was getting expensive.”
“I’m Andy.” He held out his hand and she gave it a shake, then glanced at her watch.
“I better get going. Okay if I return the mug later?”
He nodded, and she felt him watching as she walked away. Would he tell Jonny she was at the campground? She tossed her head. Now, why would that matter? Stupid thought.
Beth walked around to the few other campsites—a young couple, a family—but none of them owned the dog.
When she got to the diner, Mason was in the storage room, unpacking the morning delivery. He was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. She’d seen him a few times visiting the truck drivers over at the parking lot before the diner had even opened.
“Hey, Mason, could I take some scraps after work? I moved out to the lake campground and I saw a dog roaming around. He might be a stray.”
He stood up straight. “What the hell are you doing out there?” She held up her hand to stop the rest of the lecture that she knew was coming.
“I’m sleeping in my car. Don’t worry.”
He gave her a look that made it clear he didn’t think the car was safe either. “Keep it locked, and you can have the scraps, but don’t leave them out or you’ll get scavengers.”
“Okay, thanks.”
When she was done with her shift, she eased into her car, which was so hot she had to use napkins to touch the steering wheel and scooch forward on the seat so that her bare legs weren’t resting against the vinyl. She found the local grocery store a few streets down and savored the air-conditioning while hovering near the cooler, debating her ice choices. Chipped? Blocked?
“You going to climb in there?”
She spun, startled when she saw Jonny. His arms were crossed, one hand on each bicep, legs braced, but it wasn’t a defensive position. He looked relaxed, maybe even curious.
“Good idea. It’s too hot.” She gestured at the ice. “I don’t know what’s best.”
“A block will last you longer.”
“Thanks.” She hefted one out of the fridge and set it in the cart.
“You’re Amber’s sister.”
“You’re Hailey’s best friend.”
He gave her an assessing look. She wondered if he’d already known that she was Amber’s sister when he’d come into the diner. Did he feel the strange connection too? Did grief and pain look the same from his side?
“My friends saw you at the campground. You need some help?”
“I can’t figure out my stove.” She smiled. “Cooking never was my thing, but it might be nice to have a coffee without setting myself on fire.”
“Don’t want that. I’ll come by later.” He smiled back. She was struck by his perfect white teeth. Farm boy must have drunk a lot of milk growing up. He looked over her shoulder, his smile slowly melting away, the corners first, then the rest, until his mouth was a flat line. She followed the path of his gaze. Two women standing in the meat section were watching them. They turned away. Jonny was looking at her again. “Why would you camp out there alone?”
She started to get angry—why did everyone think they had a right to lecture her? Then she realized that there’d been no sarcasm in his voice, only interest. The question was genuine.
“Amber liked the lake.”
“You aren’t scared?”
“I guess I feel like the worst thing has already happened to me.”
He rocked onto his heels, and she waited for another warning, or an uncomfortable look to show up in his eyes. Guys didn’t like dealing with female emotions at the best of times.
“You like camping?”
“Last night was my first time. Backseat was kind of uncomfortable.”
Now he would scoff or make some sort of decisive sound. What did a city girl like her know about the woods? Maybe he’d smirk about the backseat comment. His expression didn’t change. Who was this guy? She was almost hand-feeding him opportunities to be a jerk.
“First time for everything.”
“Guess so.”
The moment was shifting, making room for too much thought. The silence wide. He would walk away soon. He’d run out of things to ask her in the middle of the aisle.
She didn’t like endings. Not when it was by someone else.
“I better go before this ice melts. Fix my stove, and I’ll make you a drink, okay?”
He nodded again, and she pushed her cart away, focused on her shopping, picking up a couple of items. She didn’t look back. If she did, he might see in her face that she was a little too pleased about the turn of events.
Her last stop was the liquor store, where she bought a bottle of cheap vodka, Coke, and some lemons. They’d have a drink or two. She’d get a better sense of him, and maybe he’d tell her more about Hailey. Maybe she’d find out why Vaughn hated him so much.
CHAPTER 21
The sun was disappearing. She’d gone for a swim, and let her hair dry in waves while she sat on the dock. Each time she heard a vehicle she glanced toward the campground road, looking for a cloud of dust, a flash of silver paint, but still no sign of Jonny. She pulled on her shorts and T-shirt and headed back to her site, then stopped. A white police truck was parked behind her car.
When she came around the side, she recognized Vaughn tapping out something on his phone. He noticed her at his window and got out with his hand resting on his gun belt.
“I see you’re all set up.”
She followed his gaze around her camp, irritated by his attention. Had he checked on the other sites, or just hers? The boys were working on their bikes, voices quiet. One snuck a peek at them but lowered his head right away. There wasn’t a beer in sight. The music was soft.
“Something wrong?”
“Just heard you were out here. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”
She had been “out here” for a grand total of twenty-four hours, half of them spent at the diner. No one in that campsite knew her and she doubted any of the boys would have spoken to Vaughn.
“I’m fine.”
“Each summer we get people camping out of the park boundary.” He pointed into the dense woods behind the lake. “It’s private land, owned by a logging company, but some people think they’re above the law. You see anything that doesn’t look right, let m
e know.”
“Okay.”
He walked over to the stove, opened it up. “Make sure you have a bucket of water handy. No campfires. Not even a spark, and keep anything plastic away from the stove.” Did he seriously give this same speech to everyone? He was acting like she’d never seen fire before.
“Is that everything? I was going to have an early night.”
His eyebrows slowly rose up his forehead, the serious expression turning more annoyed, almost surprised. He wasn’t used to being dismissed, and she regretted it for a moment. If she pissed him off, he might hold back any new information about the case.
“I really appreciate you checking on me.” She forced a smile.
His brow smoothed and he gave her a nod. “You need anything, you call the—” He abruptly turned and looked toward the road as an engine rumbled into the campground.
A silver truck came around the bend. Jonny. She let her breath out, then sucked it back in when she remembered how he’d reacted the last time he saw Vaughn. Would he think she had set him up? He stopped near his friends, said something through the window. They laughed. Then he put the truck in gear and drove over to her site, where he pulled in tight beside Vaughn.
The brim of Jonny’s baseball cap shadowed his face as he got out. He lifted his head and met her eyes. She couldn’t tell if he was angry. He stayed silent as he leaned against the front of the truck, legs crossed at the ankles, arms flexed as he braced against the grille.
“What are you doing out here?” Vaughn didn’t even try to sound polite.
“Living my best life.” He smirked.
Vaughn walked toward him, then past him, looking in the back of the truck first, then into the cab. He wrenched open the driver’s-side door before Jonny could say anything and felt under the seat. Nothing legal about that search.
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