The Secrets of Lake Road: A Novel

by Karen Katchur

  Right, said the wolf to Little Red Riding Hood, she thought, but walked up to him anyway. “What do you want?” she blurted, wishing she knew how to act cool.

  “Why’d you do it?” he asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Why’d you release the snappers?” Something in his eyes told her that he liked the idea she might’ve done something bad.

  “It wasn’t me.” She was a terrible liar.

  “Yeah, it was.”

  She crossed her arms and then uncrossed them. She pulled at her fingers. “Fine.” God, she was weak, but she wanted to believe she could trust him. She felt the need to explain. “It’s not right what they’re doing. I think it’s cruel and gruesome.”

  “They’re just using the natural resources the lake provides.” He shrugged. “And it’s probably the only way they’re going to find her now.”

  She looked at her feet. “I suppose,” she said, wondering if he would answer a question for her if she could work up the courage to ask.

  He leaned in close. “What is it?”

  Standing so close to him made her palms clammy. She cleared her throat. “Why doesn’t your mom like mine?”

  “You don’t know?” he asked as though everyone knew the reason. “It has something to do with my uncle Billy and what happened to him. He died before I was born, but my mom and him were real close.” He shrugged. “She doesn’t go into it, but I guess your mom was Billy’s girlfriend at the time. She thinks your mom knows more about what happened to him that night than she’s saying.”

  “So my mother was there when he drowned?”

  Again he shrugged. “Listen, don’t put too much into anything my mom says. She can be real paranoid.” He tapped the visor of her baseball cap. “And don’t worry. Your snapper secret’s safe with me.” He winked before walking away with the same cool swagger as her brother.

  Watching him go, Caroline was reminded of something she had learned in biology class. It was a lesson on genetics, how there were dominant and recessive genes, how certain traits were passed from parent to child, how certain characteristics could be detected throughout family members.

  But what did her teacher call the way a person walks? Gait? Could two people from different families have a similar gait? She wasn’t sure, but it didn’t seem plausible. Maybe if two people spent every second together, they could pick up each other’s habits. But it didn’t make sense for Chris and Johnny. They were best friends a month or two out of the year. And yet they walked the same way, and yes, now that she thought about it, their smiles were similar too, with one cheek rising slightly higher than the other. Why hadn’t she noticed it before?

  “There you are, Caroline,” Gram said. “Are you ready?”

  “Yeah,” she said absently, and followed Gram to the checkout counter. Her thoughts scattered, unsettling the very balance of everything she believed she knew about Johnny and her family.

  * * *

  In the bathroom Caroline read the directions on the box of feminine products, which were simple enough. When the pad was in place, she left the bathroom and helped Gram unpack the rest of the groceries. She didn’t bother trying to be quiet. She knew by the opened bedroom door that her parents were up and gone. Johnny was snoring in the back bedroom and, knowing him, he wouldn’t wake until sometime after lunch.

  Gram moved with purpose, trying to get the frozen items into the freezer. The day promised to be another scorcher. She turned on the oscillating fan. “Let’s get some air circulating,” she said. Her face looked flushed.

  “I can do this,” Caroline said. “Maybe you should sit down.” It was the first she thought about the little trip to the hospital. Maybe Gram hadn’t been faking after all.

  Gram laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” she said. “I thought you knew that.”

  “I do,” she said.

  Gram patted Caroline’s shoulder.

  They finished putting the rest of the groceries away. Gram mentioned heading to the Laundromat to take care of the other business, the sheets and soiled clothes.

  “Why don’t you head on down to the lake? I bet they have the forms posted for the fishing tournament. That is, if you’re still considering entering.”

  “They’re still having it?”

  Gram put her hand on her hip and pursed her lips. “They wouldn’t cancel that thing for nobody. It’s all about greed. They think money rules the world.” She picked up the laundry basket. “Fools, that’s what they are, a bunch of ignorant, greedy fools.”

  “I’m not sure I would’ve fished anyway, you know. It’s kid stuff.” After the morning event, it no longer felt like she should compete. The tournament was meant for kids twelve years old and younger. Maybe it was time she stepped aside to give the younger kids a chance to hook the largest lake trout. This would be the first summer since she could remember where she’d have to stand back and watch. In some ways, she felt her body betrayed her.

  Gram looked at her. “Suit yourself.” She supposed Gram understood why.

  Caroline rode her bike to the Pavilion. The place was a flurry of activity despite the underwater recovery team’s watercraft in the middle of the lake. The parking lot was sectioned off by wooden horses. Several people were vying for spots to set up their stands for the Trout Festival. Near the dock where the fishing competition would take place, men were assembling the poles for the larger tents. The sign-up sheets were posted on the Pavilion wall.

  Caroline climbed the stairs and checked the names on the sheets. The Needlemeyer twins had signed up, along with Adam and the two young boys in the cabin next to The Pop-Inn. She recognized some of the other names, but they were all much younger. “Well, that settles it,” she said to herself, and stepped inside.

  The jukebox was between songs. The bells and whistles from the pinball machines were sounding off. Customers stood in line at the snack stand, and the doors to the beach were flung open. She spied Megan leaning against the railing that led down to the beach, laughing at whatever Jeff, her boyfriend, was saying.

  There was an air of excitement about the place, the vacationers getting swept away by the undercurrent of doing something maybe they shouldn’t be doing in the midst of an ongoing search. But wasn’t that part of the lure, to do the thing you shouldn’t? Outside in the open lot, more and more tents were constructed. Brightly colored signs were posted with promises of tasty desserts and handmade crafts. The tragedy that had started the summer was dissipating. Life at the lake was returning to normal.

  Caroline found she was unable to get swept away so easily, thinking about her dream and Sara. She turned her back on the crowd at the snack stand, the kids at the pinball machines, on Megan and Jeff. She wondered if she’d find M+J carved into the Pavilion steps or painted on a rock in the woods, which brought her to thinking about her mother and Billy and, ultimately, her brother, Johnny.

  She wondered if Chris’s mom, Dee Dee, had the answers to the secrets her family was unwilling to share. Maybe it was time she asked her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Kevin pretended to be asleep when Jo got out of bed and left the cabin. She would often take long walks in the morning whenever he was home for any length of time. He took these early morning walking excursions as a personal affront. He couldn’t help it. It was as though being with him, sharing a bed for more than one night, suffocated her.

  Good, he thought. Go. He was glad to be alone. It gave him time to think. He had an uneasy feeling, or maybe it was more than that, something pushing him closer to the edge, ever since the sheriff had started asking questions. Even Caroline had asked him about Billy. He had been vague with his answers, sticking to the facts she had already confessed to knowing after reading an old Lake Reporter. Why Mrs. Nester had given his daughter those old newspapers baffled him. What was she looking to get out of it? And what in the hell were Jo and Johnny whispering about the night before?

  He kicked the sheets off and ran his hand down his face. He felt a
s though he were on a collision course with the past, and everything he had worked so hard for was slipping away. He had done it all for the love of Jo. And he’d do it again if he had to. He wasn’t going to lie here and take it.

  The cabin was empty except for Johnny snoring in the back bedroom. Damn kid could sleep the day away. Kevin decided to head down to the lake for the latest news. He wasn’t two steps out the door when he spotted the young woman Patricia stumbling down the dirt road. Her hair was tied in messy braids underneath a big crazy sun hat. Her blouse and flowing skirt looked slept in. Her sandals slapped the bottoms of her feet as she wove her way down the hill. If Kevin didn’t know better, he’d think she was drunk.

  She didn’t notice him. How could she with her back to him and her head down? He had heard who she was from a couple of the fishermen the last time he was in the bar. Patricia was little Pattie Dugan, daughter of Bob and Jean, the couple who had come to the lake every summer for years and then one year had packed up and left, never to return. He had stopped listening to the gossip after that. It didn’t matter why the Dugans had stopped coming. He was more interested in what made Patricia, Pattie, come back.

  He started following her, lagging far enough behind so she wouldn’t hear him—or if she did, she wouldn’t be alarmed. It was the road everyone in the colony took to the lake unless they took the path that cut through the woods, but which most adults avoided for practical reasons, bugs, poison ivy, or Cougar, Stimpy’s noisy, pathetic dog.

  The sun was high in the sky, promising another hot day. He reached into his pocket for the pack of smokes. He paused briefly to light up. The Pavilion was open for business, and it was bustling. The parking lot was full of lake locals and their tents. Everyone was preparing for the Trout Festival. Heil was a man who got his way more often than not. He was a man who got things done, and nothing was going to stop this festival from taking place. It was one of the biggest money-makers of the season. People from all around the Poconos area, from all different vacation sites, flocked to the lake for a day of fishing, food, and crafts. The locals made a killing.

  Kevin watched Patricia shuffle through the chaos. Most people got out of her way and looked a little guilty upon seeing her. The underwater recovery team was in the middle of lake doing their job. A few fishing boats were also out on the lake, but they respectfully kept their distance from the watercraft, although if they had any respect, they wouldn’t be out there at all.

  Patricia stopped and gazed out at the lake. She started walking again, heading straight for the docks. Kevin followed, stopping briefly to say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, Megan’s parents, who were carrying their beach chairs, obviously going to the swimming area to enjoy the day, drowning, be damned. Stimpy had his men working near the docks. Nate waved as Kevin passed. There were too many distractions, and Patricia was almost clear to the other side of the lake by the time Kevin broke free from the crowd. He passed Eddie’s cabin and found Sheila sitting outside on the front porch with a cup of coffee and the Lake Reporter. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it.

  “Join me,” Sheila said.

  He glanced in the direction in which Patricia had been walking along the docks. Then he sat next to Sheila, deciding it was better to chat for a few minutes than make up some lie about where he was going and what he was doing.

  “Eddie’s inside sleeping it off. And to think I’m usually the one who can’t handle the alcohol.” She laughed.

  They reminisced about their partying days, and for a moment it felt like old times, how easily they had reverted to their teenage selves just by being together under the hot summer sun by the lake.

  But after a few minutes of idle chitchat, the underwater recovery team’s watercraft pulled alongside the floating pier and silenced them. Kevin became keenly aware of a distance that spread between them—the space that never seemed to have closed after Billy had died. In ways, his death bound them to each other, and at the same time tore them apart. The little girl’s drowning, the recovery team on the lake—both were reminders you could never go back.

  Sheila drank from her coffee cup, keeping her eyes over the rim and on the watercraft. Kevin sensed she wanted something from him. He wiped his palms on his shorts.

  “You know,” she said, “Sheriff Borg stopped by to see me. He told me they confirmed the bones are Billy’s.”

  He didn’t say anything, only nodded. So the DNA results were in.

  “He asked if I knew how Billy might’ve hurt his arm.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him I didn’t know.”

  Sheila had never asked him any questions about his version of what had happened the night Billy had drowned. She believed the story he had given to Sheriff Borg back then. Although he suspected she had known he and Jo had been sneaking around behind Billy’s back. He wondered if she also assumed like the sheriff had that there had been a fight between them that night. If she did, he wasn’t going to admit to anything. Not now. Not ever.

  “I don’t know anything about it either,” he said, and stood. “I hope Eddie feels better.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed toward the dock in the direction of Hawkes’ cabin, where Patricia had stopped and was now standing outside the front door.

  * * *

  Kevin lingered on the pier by the fishing boats, waiting for Patricia’s next move but pretending to look over the boats as though he were thinking about renting one for the afternoon. There was a time when he had enjoyed fishing, or rather he had acted like he did. Everything he did at the lake, every summer, had been centered on Billy. Billy loved to fish. To be fair, so did Eddie. Two of his best friends enjoyed the sport, so Kevin figured he should too.

  But he didn’t.

  It wasn’t that he got motion sickness from rocking on the water or that he wasn’t good at casting a line. He just didn’t see the point in spending hours on a boat to catch a fish, only to turn around and toss it back again. He’d have rather played his guitar, written his own songs, and hung out on the beach with Jo while she had tanned in her red bikini.

  There had been countless times when he had watched her stretch her body on the towel, her flat stomach practically concave, leaving a gap in her bikini bottoms. He had imagined sliding his hand inside that gap, running his palm over her silky hair, slipping his fingers between her legs. And once, he’d had to pick up his guitar and put it in his lap to hide the erection in his shorts.

  But like so many of his fantasies back then, even that one had been interrupted. A shadow had cut across her torso. Billy had dropped down on top of her and started doing pushups. His back was slick with sweat. His muscles bulged. Jo had laughed and pushed him away, pretending to be angry he had blocked the sun.

  “Let’s head out on the boat,” Billy said to Kevin. “And leave the girls to their tanning.”

  Kevin had forgotten Sheila was lying on the beach towel on the other side of Jo. He placed his fingers on the guitar strings, thinking about a song to play and the shrinking erection in his shorts. “I think I’ll stick around here for awhile.”

  “What for? Come on,” Billy said. “Let’s go fishing.” He grabbed Kevin’s arm to pull him up.

  Kevin shook his arm free. “Nah, that’s okay. I don’t feel like it.”

  “Don’t be such a girl,” Billy said.

  A familiar rush of anger shot through Kevin, reaching as far as his toes. Billy had a way of making him look like a sissy, like less of a man in Jo’s eyes. Sometimes he hated him. “No thanks,” he said.

  “You’re killing me.” Billy placed his hand over his heart. “Please. Eddie’s got the boat ready. I have the gear packed. All you have to do is show up.”

  Kevin played a couple of chords. “I don’t think so,” he said.

  Jo leaned on her elbows, watching them.

  “You’re breaking my heart,” Billy said in such a sincere way, the girls took pity on him.

  “Aw, that’s so sweet,” Sheila said.

/>   “He wants to hang out with his best friend,” Jo said to Kevin. “Look at him. He’s begging you. How can you say no?”

  Kevin looked at Billy. In his eyes he could see that Billy’s sincerity was real. Damn him. How did he do it? How did he make Kevin feel like the bad guy every single time?

  “Fine.” He put the guitar down next to Jo, stealing one last look at her in the bikini, his erection long gone. He followed Billy to the docks, where Eddie and the boat awaited them. Eddie was shirtless and wearing cut-off jean shorts. A cigarette was pinched between his lips. He wiped his hands on a towel. “She’s ready to go. All I need is someone to run up to the cabin and grab the tackle box.”

  “Great.” Billy turned to Kevin and poked him in the chest. “That means you. Oh hey, while you’re there, grab some sandwiches and some cold ones.”

  “I thought all I had to do was show up?” Kevin didn’t wait for Billy to reply. Instead he turned and marched back the way he came, arms pumping at his sides. He overheard Eddie ask Billy, “What’s wrong with him?”

  Eddie’s cabin was only a few feet away. It wasn’t like he had to walk miles. But still. Still. He stomped inside and yanked open the refrigerator door. He pulled out cold cuts and a couple of beers. Fuck it, if Eddie’s dad noticed he was missing a few cans. He threw the sandwiches together and tossed everything into a small cooler. On his way out the door, he grabbed Eddie’s tackle box and an extra fishing pole. Maybe he was overreacting, but Billy had a way of making him do things he didn’t want to do. Billy made him feel every bit the chump.

  He returned to the boat, stashed the gear, and untied the lines from the dock. When they were well on their way to the far end of the lake and miles from the beach, for a moment, a fraction of a second, he thought about pushing Billy overboard and drowning him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Caroline walked out of the Pavilion and into the lot where the tents were being constructed. She took two or three steps before she noticed Adam and his mother approaching. His mother had her hand gripped tightly around Adam’s arm, dragging him through the crowd of men and women blocking their path.