The Secrets of Lake Road: A Novel

by Karen Katchur

  “So what’s this about?” she asked.

  “It’s about what happened today.” He was tall like her. If any man at the lake could match her height and strength, he was the one.

  “You mean the little girl? What does she have to do with me? Did they find her?”

  “No, they still haven’t found her.” He started playing with his hat, kneading the edges with his fingers. “But they did find something else.” He paused.

  “What?” She had no patience for bullshit. Whatever it was, she wanted it straight-up.

  “They recovered some bones today while they were searching for the girl.”

  She eyed him, skeptical about what he was telling her. “What bones?” she asked.

  “I’m no medical examiner, but they looked to be bones from a forearm.”

  She stared at him, wanting to believe what he was telling her was true.

  He stared back. “Of course, they’ll need to be sent to the lab. It will be a couple of days before we have any definite answers.”

  Her breathing was shallow, her spine rigid. “What does this mean?” she asked. The bones had to be her brother’s, Billy’s. The sheriff wouldn’t be here otherwise.

  “I’m not sure it means anything. Just that we may have found what we couldn’t before.”

  “But it could prove something, right?” She never believed Billy’s drowning was an accident, although that was how it was ruled, an accidental death, even though his skull had been cracked. At the time they had explained it, justified it with excuses, how he must’ve fallen, hit his head, and drowned. There hadn’t been any witnesses to prove otherwise, although Dee Dee didn’t believe that either. Billy had left the cabin that night with his girlfriend, Jo. Where the hell was she when it happened? Why wasn’t she with him?

  There was something off about that whole night from the moment Jo had set foot inside their home. She had been distracted, waiting for Billy to finish dinner so they could go out for the night. Billy had asked Jo a question twice, although Dee Dee no longer remembered what the question was, something innocuous. But Jo wasn’t paying attention, and that was the strangest part. Jo always gave Billy her full attention. For three summers since Billy was thirteen years old, Jo was a permanent fixture by his side like a lake leech stuck to his skin.

  But that week, that particular night, Dee Dee was certain something had changed. It was as though she felt the fracture in their relationship as sure as if the earth’s fault lines had shifted beneath her feet. Of course, it was impossible to know exactly what had changed. And she had never gotten the chance to ask him.

  And then there was Heil, how hard he had pushed to have the case closed when witnesses confirmed Billy had been drinking underage, the alcohol supplied by Heil’s bar. As for the missing bones from Billy’s forearm, they were thought to have been clawed off by snappers, gone forever.

  So no, she never believed her brother’s drowning was an accident. There were too many unanswered questions.

  “Look,” the sheriff said. “I know you’re hoping they’ll find some evidence, something new to suggest it wasn’t an accident.”

  “You know I am,” she shot back, letting her anger and frustration show. She was nineteen and already knocked up and alone, deserted by her boyfriend, when she had lost Billy. She was just a kid. And yet the sheriff had always been willing to listen to her, to the possibility there was more to the story about her brother’s disappearance than he was ever able to prove.

  Tonight he stared at her as though he was unsure whether or not to continue. He knew her well enough to know there was no reasoning with her when she was agitated.

  “Go on. Spit it out,” she said.

  “Not a lot of people know about the bones. Heil wants to keep it quiet. He doesn’t think it’s a priority under the circumstance. All he’s concentrating on is the current situation with the girl. He doesn’t want to remind people there were other drownings around here.”

  “What Heil does or doesn’t do makes no difference to me.” All she needed was someone in a lab somewhere to prove what she had known all along.

  “Fair enough. Just don’t get your hopes up.” When she didn’t respond, the sheriff put on his hat. “You should wear gloves next time.” He pointed to her hands, referring to the blister. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, and showed himself out.

  * * *

  After the sheriff left, Dee Dee grabbed a six-pack of beer from the refrigerator. She turned off all the lights and stepped outside to sit on the porch swing in the dark and think. She often sat alone deep into the night, staring out at the lake, drinking beer with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company. Some might say she had a problem, drinking alone in the dark undercover. Maybe she did. But she had stopped caring what other people thought a long time ago. So what if she drank herself numb most nights? She wasn’t hurting anyone and how many people could say the same thing? Not many by her estimation. Not many at all.

  A cool breeze blew from the water. The storm broke the humidity at least for a little while. She popped the tab on the can. The sheriff was right. She needed to keep things in perspective and try not to put too much into a pair of bones. It could prove to be nothing. But what if it proved to be something?

  She downed the beer and crushed the empty can in her hand, the blister screaming in protest. She reached for another can.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was early evening the next day, and the little girl was still missing.

  Jo stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head. She was wearing her favorite low-rise jeans and a white T-shirt. She felt a little better after showering, but the pack of cigarettes she had smoked while sitting on Eddie’s dock that afternoon in the hot sun had added to her already pounding head.

  It had taken two hours for the text message to go through to Kevin telling him he needed to get to the lake, that they may have found Billy’s bones. She wasn’t sure what it meant, if it meant anything, but she wanted him here. While she had fiddled with the phone, she watched the underwater recovery team search the lake to no avail.

  She rubbed her brow.

  Gram walked past, her purse slung over her shoulder. She was wearing one of her staple outfits for special occasions—a pair of blue cotton pants and matching blouse.

  “Where are you going?” Jo asked, and removed the towel from her head. The thick tousles draped over her shoulders, soaking her T-shirt almost instantly.

  “Frank Heil called an association meeting.” Gram shot her a sideways glance and continued for the door.

  “I’m coming with you.” She tossed the towel onto the kitchen table and ran her fingers through her hair.

  Gram stopped and stared at her. “Why? You were never interested in these meetings before.”

  “Well, I am now.”

  * * *

  They piled into Gram’s Oldsmobile, a big green four-door sedan Pop had bought her before he had died. He had joked about how Gram couldn’t hurt herself if she happened to bounce off a few trees in what he nicknamed the Loch Ness, a battle-ax of a car. It had been five years since he had passed of heart failure right there in the cabin in his bed, sleeping peacefully next to Gram. It wasn’t until the next morning that Gram had become aware he was gone. Since then, the Loch Ness endured several run-ins with posts, curbs, and Jo’s bumper, but so far it had stayed away from any trees.

  Jo smiled on the inside, remembering Pop, the father she loved. He had been a good man, a solid man who had been grounded in his beliefs of right and wrong, who had tried not to judge her or her decisions, although in the end, he had done just that. And still, at times like now, she missed him all the more.

  Gram backed out of the parking space, nicking the fence post. “Holy crow’s nest,” she said, and threw the car in drive.

  Jo held onto the oh shit handle as Gram ran over every pothole on the way to the Pavilion. She blew past the stop sign on Lake Road and slid into the parking lot. Her usually open face
was closed in a stern expression, a look she typically reserved for Jo. Then again, Frank Heil and his association meetings had that kind of effect on Gram and most people around there.

  They got out of the car without talking. Jo followed Gram in silence up the steps to the second floor, where the meeting was being held. Eddie was behind the bar. He squeezed Jo’s shoulder and leaned over to give Gram a peck on the cheek. For a second Gram’s face opened to him, but just as quickly it closed.

  “He’s fired up,” Eddie whispered loud enough for both her and Gram to hear.

  Heil was on the other side of the barroom with his cohorts. One was a man by the name of Stimpy, who owned the rental boats on the lake. The other two were local fishermen, and Jonathan, who owned not one but five cabins in the colony. They all had something to lose if the beach and lake remained closed.

  Other cabin owners filtered in and took their respective seats around scattered tables, leaving Sheriff Borg to sit alone. It was a known fact that Heil had the sheriff in his back packet. Freebies at the Pavilion—swim passes, rounds of drinks at the bar—kept the sheriff on Heil’s side when it came to association matters and community affairs.

  Small town politics sucked, and Jo was reminded why she avoided such meetings. She hated public debates and narrow-minded people. But she was here because she had to know if there was any news about the bones. She had to know if they were in fact Billy’s. She could hear Kevin’s voice inside her head telling her it didn’t matter whose bones they were, to get out of there, to leave the lake. But he had to know she couldn’t. Her guilt wouldn’t let her.

  She took the seat next to Gram and scanned the crowd, concerned she might see Billy’s sister, Dee Dee. About thirty people gathered. She recognized each and every one of their faces, locals and seasonal cabin owners. Much to her relief, Billy’s sister wasn’t among them.

  Heil took his position at the front of the room. He held up his hand and, like obedient children, they quieted in their seats and waited for the next command.

  “We all know why we’re here. Tragedy, I tell you. And no one is more upset about this than I am.”

  The people nodded and murmured in agreement.

  Heil pulled his pants up high to cover his large belly. He rolled onto the balls of his feet in a power bounce. “But we must make a living in spite of what has happened here.”

  “Are you planning on opening the Pavilion and beach tomorrow?” one of the cabin owners asked.

  “Of course he is.” Jonathan spoke for Heil. “I’ve got renters who expect the full vacation experience on the lake, and that includes the beach and swimming. Hell, that’s all they’re here for.”

  “He’s right,” someone said from the back of the room.

  The crowd started talking at once. Jo tried to follow the outbursts, catching bits and pieces. “Besides, it’s gruesome, all this waiting around, watching them drag the bottom looking for that little girl’s body.”

  “What’s taking so long?”

  “Why can’t they find her?”

  “And those poor parents, having to wait.”

  “It’s not our fault. Why should we be punished?”

  “We’re paying to swim and fish.”

  “That mother should’ve kept a better watch on her kid.”

  “You can’t blame the mother.”

  “Why not? Where was she?”

  “It was an accident.”

  “Tragedy.”

  “We’re losing money.”

  “What about the bones?”

  “Yeah, I heard they found some bones.”

  “All right,” Heil said. “Everyone, calm down.”

  Sheriff Borg stood and put on his sheriff’s hat. He rapped his knuckles twice on the table. The action caused the mob to settle down.

  “Law enforcement is looking into the bones.” Heil shot the sheriff a look, and the sheriff nodded. “But that’s not our immediate concern. What we need to focus on is the business at hand.” He continued. “And that’s finding that little girl and getting the beach and lake reopened. What we need is to speak to the recovery team.”

  “That’s right,” a woman from the corner bar piped in.

  Heil turned to Stimpy. “Get out there and bring one of them fellows in. I have an idea.”

  Excitement buzzed around the room. Everyone wanted to move forward, for summer vacations to continue as planned as if nothing bad had happened. The community at the lake, the locals and regular summer vacationers, had been through this kind of thing before. Tragic, yes, but no one sitting in Eddie’s bar ever thought it could happen to them, to their family, to their child. You never thought it could happen to you.

  Gram sat perfectly still. Jo’s own spine was rigid, although her foot wagged at a ridiculous pace.

  One of the men from underwater recovery climbed the stairs and entered the bar. He was average height with dark brown hair and eyes. He wore a black T-shirt and jeans. A yellow safety vest was strapped to his chest. He carried a matching yellow hardhat. He scanned the crowd of people, and by the time he finished, he was scowling.

  Heil slapped his hand on the man’s shoulder and turned to his co-conspirators to quiet them down. All eyes focused on the two men.

  “We have no doubt you’re doing everything you can,” Heil explained, sounding much like a politician. “But it’s over twenty-four hours that we’ve had the lake and beach closed. People pay for the lake experience. They expect to take their boats on the water and fish. Families expect their kids to swim.”

  “I understand,” the man said. “We’re working as fast as we can.” He then added, “For the little girl and her parents.”

  “Yes, for the girl and her parents,” Heil said. “But I have an idea that may help both the lake community and the family to move things along.”

  “I’m listening,” the man said.

  “Now, keep an open mind. She’s dead. We all know she’s dead. No one can survive underwater for an entire day and night.” Heil looked around for consent. “So what I’m proposing is a sure way to recover the girl. Although it may seem gruesome, I assure you it’s not. Not really. It’s practical. It’s using our very own resources, and it won’t cost the taxpayers or community any money.” He paused, a pleased expression on his face. “It’s free.”

  “What is it?” someone asked from the crowd.

  Another shouted, “I know what you’re suggesting.”

  A woman said, “I don’t understand. What is he talking about?”

  “Now, calm down.” Heil beckoned the group. “We can find that little girl by ourselves and quickly. We’ve done it before.”

  The crowd collectively gasped, but nodded, understanding what Heil was suggesting. “It’s like when that Hawke boy drowned. What was his name?”

  “Billy,” someone said. “Yeah, that’s right. Billy.”

  Jo opened her mouth and closed it again when Gram squeezed her thigh.

  “There are reasons we use the technology we have,” the man from underwater recovery said, his face now etched in a permanent frown. “We don’t want to jeopardize any possible forensic evidence.” He looked to the sheriff, and once again the sheriff nodded.

  He continued. “We have the side scanner. If you just give us a few more hours, my guess is that we should be able to find her by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

  The crowd began to rumble their dissent.

  “That’s another day the beach stays closed.”

  “What about the fishing boats?”

  “It’s costing us money.”

  “Find her now by any means possible.”

  “It’s best for everyone.”

  Gram’s hands were curled into two tight balls, her knuckles white. She turned to Jo. “Barbarians. Every last one of them.”

  Heil held up his hands in an attempt to quiet the crowd yet again. Sara’s mother appeared in the doorway, and a hushed silence spread throughout the room. Her face was drawn and hollow. She looked much
older than she was. The man from underwater recovery rushed to her side.

  “I want you to find my baby girl,” she said to him. “I want you to get her out of that damn lake.”

  “We will, ma’am.” He took her arm, and before she could address the crowd, if she even wanted to address the crowd, he ushered her out the door and down the stairs to avoid a scene. The sheriff followed them out.

  The mob stayed seated with their eyes cast down, unwilling to look at one another. Several seconds of an uncomfortable silence ensued until one of the women, Mrs. Hofsteader, stood to leave. She and her husband, Cal Hofsteader, owned one of the cabins on the lake directly across from the Pavilion. She tapped her husband’s shoulder, and he followed her out the door. Other women began to gather themselves, collect their purses, accepting it would be another day of waiting. Most of the men followed, but Stimpy and a few other fishermen huddled in the corner of the bar.

  Jo turned to Gram and motioned in the direction of Stimpy and the fishermen. “What do you think they’re up to?”

  Gram stared at the men. Their heads were bent together, and they were whispering. “I think they’re going to take matters into their own hands,” she said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Caroline was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of milk and cookies when Gram stomped through the door. Caroline’s mother marched in behind her. Both were in a huff over something, and Caroline stared at them, making a quick mental list of her actions in the last few hours, trying to determine if she was to blame for their foul moods.

  Looking back and forth between Gram and her mother, and not coming up with anything she might have done to make them mad, she hoped they weren’t fighting with each other. She had been aware of a rift between them ever since she was little. She couldn’t remember a time when it wasn’t there, this thing she couldn’t name. She couldn’t always see it in their eyes or hear it in their words, but she felt it, an invisible storm rumbling in the air around them.

  “So now what?” her mother asked.

  “Now nothing,” Gram said. “We wait like the rest of them.”