Down By The Water

by Cruise, Anna

  But no one was. The house was empty.

  It was weirdly quiet and I wondered where everyone had gone. I wandered into the dining room and poked my head in the kitchen but there was no one. I was tempted to go right back up to my room and hibernate until someone showed up. But as much as I wanted to hide myself away, another part of me knew I should do something else. Take the moments when I'd stood up to Sheriff Jorgenson and let them guide my decisions, not my fear. I hesitated for just a moment, then marched as best I could on my tender feet, down the hallway and out the front door. I didn't think anymore, just urged my feet to move forward as I crossed the porch and navigated my way toward the steps.

  Campfire smoke drifted in the air and I heard voices off in the distance. The sun had shifted to the west but was still high enough up to offer significant daylight, even in the evening hours. I grabbed a can of bug spray off the front porch and covered myself in it, letting the mosquitos bounce off my freshly cleaned skin.

  I remembered our summer nights at the resort. Campfires every night, s'mores over the flames. Games of tag and Capture The Flag with nameless kids from neighboring campsites until it was too dark to see. Bike rides, just to see who was camping near us. I'd forgotten those things, pushed them aside after Rosie's death, vowing never to visit a campground ever again. Now, walking down the dirt trail toward the sites, a wave of nostalgia washed over me and I realized that, even though the memory was tainted, I'd had some good times there, too.

  Dave Phillips was stretched out in a kelly green camp chair, the beginnings of a campfire in the ring in front of him, a can of beer in his hand. He wore a black T-shirt with the sleeves cut-off, tan cargo shorts and the same Twins cap he'd had on when I'd first met him on the trail. He was staring into the flames of the fire and started in his chair as I approached.

  “Jesus,” he said.

  “I'm sorry,” I said, coming to a halt. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

  His lips puckered into a tight line. “You didn't. I mean, you did.” He shook his head. “Never mind. What can I do for you?”

  “I...I just wanted to check on your daughter,” I said. “Annie.”

  “She's fine. She's in the camper with her brother,” he said flatly and I knew by the way he said it that either Sheriff Jorgenson or someone else told him about my sister and their suspicion about me.

  “She's really fine?” I asked. “I was the one who found her. I just...”

  “Yeah,” he said. “She's fine.” He took a long drink from the beer. “Anything else?”

  I swatted at a mosquito hovering near my arm. “Did she say what happened?”

  He took another drink, then glared at me over the beer can. “Why? You worried about what she might say?”

  The heat rushed to my face. “No.”

  “No? Way I hear it is you should be. And so help me, if I catch your ass down here again...”

  “David!”

  We both looked toward the door to their camper. The woman I'd seen that morning, who I'd assumed to be Annie's mother was staring at him, her eyes narrowed and hard.

  “Maybe you need to take a walk,” she said to him, coming down the metal stairs from the camper door. “Get some exercise.”

  She didn't say those things as questions and he didn't answer. He just stood, glared at me one more time, and headed for the path.

  When he was out of earshot, she came over to me. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore the same clothes she'd had on that morning. She looked tired, but not unwelcoming.

  “I'm Cheryl,” she said, reaching out to me.

  “Lily,” I said, shaking her hand.

  A small smile forced its way onto her face. “Thank you. For finding Annie.”

  “You're welcome,” I said. “I'm glad she was alright.” I paused. “Is she alright?”

  Cheryl Phillips nodded. “Yes. She's tired and still a little shaken up, but she's going to be fine.”

  I gestured back toward the direction of where her husband had walked. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to cause trouble. I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”

  She nodded. “It's alright. I understand. David is...well, he's shaken up, too.” She ran a hand through the bangs hanging over her eyes. “I suppose you understand that feeling.”

  A small knot formed in my stomach. “Yes.”

  “I'm sorry,” she said softly. “About your sister.”

  So many people had said those words to me over they years that I'd grown numb to them. But hers sounded sincere. And, after what she'd just been through that morning with her own daughter, I knew she was vividly aware of the could-have-beens. She could have ended up just like me, with a daughter gone forever instead of a sister. “Thanks.”

  She gestured at the camp chair her husband had been sitting in and then sat down in the matching one across from it. “The sheriff told us about your sister when he talked to us this morning.”

  I didn't say anything. I'd figured as much.

  “I'm not one to judge people when I don't know them,” she said, leaning back in the chair. “So I'm not going to start now. But I find it hard to believe that the person who found my daughter meant her any harm.”

  I swallowed hard. “The only time I'd seen your daughter before I found her was when we were out walking last night.”

  She nodded as if she knew that. “David told me.”

  “And I was having breakfast with the Reillys this morning,” I said. “I hadn't even left the house.”

  “You don't have to defend yourself,” she said, the tired smile forcing its way onto her face once again. “I believe you.”

  “You do? Why?”

  She shifted her weight in her chair and sighed. “My daughter is...different.”

  “I don't understand.”

  She stared at the flames crackling in the fire pit. “She's autistic.”

  I waited. I wasn't sure how that had Cheryl believing my innocence.

  “Annie's in the camper,” she said. “She watched you walk down here. Through the window.” She motioned toward the camper. “If she was afraid of you, I would've known.”

  “She would've told you?”

  She made a face, almost as if she'd been pinched. “In her own way, yes. Her communication skills aren't as good as mine and yours. Or maybe I should say they're different.” She waved her hand in the air. “Regardless, if you presented any danger to her, she would've found a way to let me know.”

  I glanced at the camper. Movement fluttered the curtain in the window, but I didn't see a face.

  “Oh, I guarantee she's watching,” Cheryl said. “But she won't let you see her.”

  “Why not?'

  She shrugged. “Not sure. She's being coy at the moment.” She smiled again. “She can try your patience.”

  I stared at the orange and red flames swirling in the concrete ring. I wasn't exactly sure what she meant by that, about trying one's patience. And I still wasn't entirely clear on why she wasn't blaming me like her husband apparently did.

  “Did she say anything?” I asked. “I mean, afterward? Did she say anything about what happened to her?”

  Cheryl Phillips shook her head. “No, and I think that's what's frustrating everyone at this point. But you have to understand. She communicates differently. You can't just have a normal conversation with her. She's not verbal the way other kids her age are. She can speak, but only a few words. And she doesn't always choose to communicate that way, especially if she's scared or frightened.”

  “So she hasn't said anything?”

  “I'm afraid not,” she answered. “And she might not ever. That's what David is frustrated with and it's most certainly what that sheriff is frustrated with.” Her expression dimmed. “But we won't be dealing with him anymore.”

  “Why's that?”

  “Because I told him not to come back,” she said, crossing her legs.

  In spite of not feeling very happy, I smiled. “He can have that effect o
n people.”

  She shook her head, her disgust apparent. “He gave me a bad feeling right away. But the way he spoke to Annie...” Her voice trailed off and then she shook her head again. “He will not speak to her again.”

  “Can I ask what he said to her?”

  She uncrossed, then recrossed her legs again. “I told him the questions needed to come from me. He refused. So then I warned him that he needed to speak quietly, friendly, if he insisted on trying to talk to her. That he couldn't cross-examine her or come across as agitated, that it would set her off. He made it about two minutes before his entire demeanor changed. He scared the crap out of her.” A look of disgust crossed her face and she motioned again toward the camper. “I guarantee that's part of the reason she doesn't want to come out right now. It might be days before she feels comfortable.” She bit her lip, anger settling into her eyes. “I told him he was not welcome here again.”

  I didn't feel good for Annie, but I was pleased that Cheryl Phillips had told Jorgenson to get lost. Maybe it was because I had been on the receiving end of what I thought was his bullying, but I didn't think that many people ever stood up to him. It was nice to meet someone who wasn't afraid of him.

  “But he has it in for you,” she said. “I will tell you that.”

  It wasn't great to hear, but it also didn't surprise me. “I know.”

  “It was like he was desperate to get something from Annie that would implicate you,” Cheryl said. “And he warned us to stay away from you, kept insinuating that you'd played a role in your sister's death.”

  I stared down at my sandals. I knew he thought this, knew he'd shared his suspicions with the Reillys, but it still hurt to know that he was firing off groundless accusations to random strangers.

  “I'm sorry,” she said. “I don't mean to bring up unpleasant memories. I just thought you should know.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “For telling me. I know what he thinks so it's not a surprise to me. But thank you.”

  We sat there for a few minutes, listening to the fire crack and pop and watching the flames lick the darkening sky.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Cheryl looked up. “Sure.”

  “Why was she by herself?” I asked.

  She sighed. “I don't know. Because we weren't paying attention. So stupid.” Her eyes filled with tears. “She loves water. That's why we came here in the first place. And she can swim like crazy. You have to pull her out of the water with a hook to get her home.”

  I listened. She sounded like how Rosie had been at that age.

  She smiled. “Anyway, I don't know. I think we were just too...complacent. We're always so vigilant—at least I am—and we're on vacation and we're relaxing and Annie is happy—and easy—for the first time in a long time. And David thought I was watching her and I thought he was watching her and then...she was just gone.”

  Her story was so similar to Rosie's. I shivered at the eeriness of it.

  “Bad luck and some bad communication,” Cheryl said as blinked back the tears. “It happens. It's no one's fault.”

  I nodded. It made sense. It was what had happened in our family. Maybe not according to the sheriff, but it was what I knew in my heart. I hadn't been paying attention and my sister had wandered off. And died.

  But I still needed to ask. “So you don't think anyone...did anything?”

  She hesitated, then shrugged. “I don't know. I may never know. I mean, I wasn't there. All I know is what I can get from Annie, which isn't much. You're the only person the sheriff mentioned.”

  I didn't look down at my shoes this time.

  “So, do I think it was an unfortunate accident?” Cheryl chewed her lip for a minute and then nodded. “Yes. I do. I understand why people might compare it to your sister and certainly you being here is...odd.” She cleared her throat. “But everyone is ignoring the one big difference.”

  “What's that?”

  She glanced back at the camper and the curtain fluttered again.

  “Your sister died,” Cheryl Phillips said. “Annie's alive.”

  TWENTY SEVEN

  I thanked Cheryl for talking to me and left her sitting in the chair by the campfire. I was surprised she'd been so nice to me after her husband seemed ready to use me as kindling and I appreciated what she'd told me, even though it hurt to hear.

  The sky was almost completely dark, a chorus of crickets and cicadas chirping in unison as I traveled the dirt path back to the house. Footsteps scampered on a bed of dry leaves among the trees and I wondered if it was a chipmunk or a squirrel or something bigger. I was in Minnesota. There were wolves and bears further north which meant that there could be some in Pelican Lake, too. I shivered.

  I was staring at the ground as I walked, trying not to think about the sounds in the woods when I literally bumped into Ty.

  I stifled a scream and took a step back. “You scared the shit out of me!”

  He smiled. “Sorry?”

  I cuffed his arm. “Jesus. You shouldn't sneak up on people in the dark.”

  “Uh, I didn't sneak up on you.”

  I started walking again and he fell into step next to me. “Yes, you did.”

  “No, I didn't. I called your name but you didn't respond. I thought you'd been zombified or something.”

  I caved and smiled. “Whatever.”

  “Where were you?”

  Footsteps sounded again but this time, with Ty next to me, I didn't even react. “Talking to Annie's mom.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That go okay?”

  “Better than okay, actually,” I said. “Her husband wasn't happy to see me, but she was fairly cool. And I learned a couple of things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like Jorgenson totally has it out for me. And that her daughter is autistic.”

  The eyebrow stayed up and his eyes went wide. “What?”

  I told him about my conversation with Cheryl Phillips as we made our way back to the house.

  “Jeez,” he said, shaking his head. “I just thought she was a quiet kid.”

  “I'm sure that's what most people think. I don't know much about autism, but it sounds like it's hard to communicate with her.”

  “And just goes to show what an idiot Jorgenson is,” he said, frowning. Then he swatted at his arm. “Hey, can we go inside? I'm apparently dinner and dessert tonight for these goddamn mosquitos.”

  I nodded and followed him up the stairs and into the house. It was still quiet inside and he hit the light switch so we weren't in the darkened living room.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  “My parents went out for dinner,” he said, collapsing on to the sofa. “I think they just needed to get out of here for awhile.”

  I knew the feeling. It was the exact reason why I'd been so happy to slip away with him after visiting the auto shop.

  “I don't know where your sister is.” He glanced around the room, as if he expected her to materialize out of thin air.

  I sat down next to him, my leg touching his and I felt my insides jump just a little. “Oh, I know where she's at.”

  He pressed his leg into mine. “Where?”

  “Probably naked with your buddy Sven.”

  He laughed. “Seriously?”

  I nodded. “She apparently went back after we left and made a date with him tonight.”

  “Sven likes chicks,” he said smiling. “Especially willing ones.”

  “Well, that's Jenna.” I snorted. “Pretty sure we won't see her until morning.”

  “That's perfectly okay with me,” he said. His hand reached for mine and I felt my pulse quicken. “Then I guess we're...alone.”

  “I guess we are.”

  He threaded his fingers through mine and tightened his grip. “You okay with that?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Me, too.” He leaned closer, his lips against my ear. “Guess what I've been thinking about for the last few hours?”

  I
didn't need to guess but I asked, anyway. “What?”

  His mouth moved closer and I could feel his breath, hot against my skin. “That we didn't get to finish what we started earlier.”

  I closed my eyes as his lips touched the delicate skin behind my ear. I'd had so many thoughts swirling through my head after the conversation with Cheryl but now all I could think about was the way he'd felt laying next to me at the lake. His lips, his hands, the way he'd shifted on top of me, the way he'd touched me. And the rain that had absolutely prevented us from finishing what we'd started.

  I turned to face him, our noses nearly touching. “No,” I said. “We didn't.”

  His eyes were dark with desire as he lowered his mouth to mine. His tongue licked my lips, gently tracing over the soft, firm flesh and I pressed my mouth into his and he groaned. I ran my hands through his hair, my fingers tightening on the silky strands as his arms snaked around my body. It was like we hadn't missed a beat.

  “Upstairs,” I whispered. “Let's go upstairs. In case anyone...”

  I didn't need to tell him twice. He lifted me up like a baby and I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on as he carried me up the stairs, our lips locked together. He took me to his room and laid me down on the bed, his weight coming down on top of me. He kissed me hard, his hands running the length of me, his touch both a tease and a caress.

  “Do you have any idea how much I want you?” he murmured, his fingers brushing against the thin fabric covering my breasts.

  I knew. And I didn't want to wait. Our foreplay had been the lake and I'd been aching for him ever since.

  “Probably as much as I want you,” I whispered back.

  I trailed my hand down his abdomen, my fingers light as they skimmed his smooth, muscled skin. I found the button on his shorts and undid it quickly. I unzipped him and didn't hesitate as I wrapped my hand around him through the fabric of his boxer briefs, smiling with satisfaction as he moaned and thrust into my hand. He was already hard, hot and pulsating, and I shivered, thinking about having that part of him inside of me. He watched me, his eyes locked with mine as he slid himself slowly back and forth in my grip, the fabric chafing my palms.