After a quick lunch followed up by a cup of peppermint tea, Laura sat down and started to read. The first stack of articles she came to was on top of a file labeled "Bullard Clan."
Laura picked up the first clipping she came to. It carried a large-print headline in bold type and read: Entire Family Massacred. A sub-head read: No Suspects in Custody. No Bodies Found.
She drew a hand to her chest in shock. "What happened?" she asked Phyllis.
Phyllis tapped the tip of her bent, arthritic finger against the article and said: “That was the Bullard family. Casualties of war. A real estate war."
"What does that mean?"
"Caleb Bullard owned a small farm just outside Winfield. From what I've been able to ascertain, he refused to sell his farm to a group of developers working for the government. Not a very happy ending, I’m afraid. One night a posse of hit-men led by a man named Wilbur Terrill—inarguably one of the meanest, most dangerous characters in these parts at the time—came after Bullard with dogs and shotguns. Word had it, that Old Man Bullard had a small fortune stashed away in gold and silver coins. I doubt it was all that much, but it was a lot to that poor family. "
As Phyllis spoke, Laura scanned another stack of clips and read more of the grisly details. It was all she could do to keep from feeling sick.
"Terrill's men murdered them all in cold blood," Phyllis went on, "but not before one of the Bullard boys blew the bastard’s face away with a shotgun. But that didn’t stop the others. Caleb had a wife and four children, one of the little ones dying of TB. Terrill's gang went through the house, slaughtered the boys like hogs, cutting off their heads and privates. Raped the woman, they did, even one of the little girls. After that, they took the bodies, or what was left of them, and buried them somewhere out there." Phyllis pointed in the general direction of the lake. "The saddest part is, no one knows where. That's because their mortal remains were never found.” She gave a cryptic smile, added: "They never found the coins, either."
"God in Heaven," Laura moaned.
She felt dizzy and started to get up and get a glass of water when she noticed another clipping—this one more recent—stuck in a back corner of the album. Woman Slain in Bizarre Ritual, screamed the big, black headline. The dateline was Atlanta. The lead paragraph told how a young woman had been brutally raped inside her own Sandy Spring apartment, then butchered. Her head had been decapitated and her naked body was left nailed to a wall hanging upside down.
Phyllis quickly snatched the clipping from Laura. “Awful, isn’t it?” she flared, quickly gathering up the rest of the files. “That’s why I stay away from the city as much as possible.”
Startled, Laura watched the professor stuff the files and photos back inside the drawer and push it shut.
“Now then, my dear,” Phyllis said, rubbing her hands together, “you know about as much as I do about our little wilderness paradise up here. A regular Garden of Eden, wouldn’t you say? Lots of secrets. Lots of devils. Lots of death. Would you care for another cup of tea?”
“No, no thanks,” Laura said, blurring her words and feeling faint. She was still shaking as she got up to go. “I should be getting back now. I need to get back to my daughter."
“Of course,” Phyllis said, moving toward the door. "You get back home safely and take care of that little darling. A precious angel like that needs her mother."
Laura stopped, collected herself. "I do have one more question," she started. "Why do they call it Bear Gap Lake?"
The professor grinned. It was the same weird grin Laura had seen earlier that morning. "Why do you ask?"
"Just curious." She paused, then said: "Actually, I thought I heard a bear—or something like a bear—in the woods on the way over here. Are there any bears around here to your knowledge?"
Phyllis boomed with laughter. "Honey, these are the mountains. Bears and mountains go together like Bonnie and Clyde. What you're asking about is Ursus americanus, the American Black Bear. A long time ago, before they carved up the Gap and filled it in with the lake, there was a large population of them up here, maybe in the thousands. There still are quite a few, I'd say in the one or two-hundred range. But it's highly unlikely that's what you heard. Bears are very quiet animals for their size, and super secretive. They're basically shy and rarely bother people. A bear can be out there in the woods watching you all the time, and you'd never know it."
Laura didn't know whether she should be comforted by the professor's information or frightened. One or two-hundred still sounded like a lot bears.
When she got to the front door, she turned and said, "Thank you for your time, Dr. Coleman. And the lunch. It was delicious."
"It's Phyllis, remember?"
“Of course. Good luck with your book, Phyllis. Both of them.”
“Please come again," Phyllis said, following Laura out onto the porch. "Next time, bring that little darling with you."
Laura halted, as if mulling over another question
"Was there something else you wanted to ask?" the professor asked wryly. "You've got that look on your face."
Laura frowned, as if searching for the right words before opening her mouth. "Yes, there is, in fact. Do you know of any visitors up here at the lake right now—families, perhaps, that might have little boys?"
Phyllis looked at her for a moment then slowly shook her head. "No boys up here that I know of. Why do you ask?"
"My daughter thinks she saw a couple two nights ago during the storm. She says they were down on the beach looking up at her window and thinks they might be local because of the way the way they were dressed."
Phyllis stood rigid and unblinking, as if carefully digesting Laura's words. “Well, dear, you know how children are. They're highly imaginative little creatures. It's all those pre-puberty hormones kicking in, that bitch Mother Nature trying to turn the little darlings into cock-sucking whores."
Laura faltered, unable to respond. She couldn't have been more shocked by Phyllis's bizarre outburst than if she had suddenly sprouted a pair of horns. Had she even heard her right? “I’ve kept you too long,” she stammered, hastening down the steps.
“Nonsense,” Phyllis called after her. “It’s refreshing to have young company once in a while.”
Laura hurried, but Phyllis followed her into the yard. When Lord Nelson jumped up and started yapping, the professor untied him, then gave him a vicious kick with her heavy boot.
The little terrier yelped, then scampered away under the house.
“Dirty little bastard,” Phyllis snapped. “I don’t know why I keep him around here anymore. All he does is eat, shit, eat, shit…”
Again, Laura was as dumbfounded as she was confused by the sudden change in Phyllis's demeanor. Until now, she couldn't imagine it possible that someone as kind and obviously intelligent as the professor was capable of uttering such words.
Still reeling, she thanked Phyllis again and dashed off down the trail.
Chapter Nineteen
"HURRY,” LAURA CALLED UP the stairs to Bit, “Brad will be here any minute.”
“I’m coming, Mom, I'm coming,” she heard Bit reply for the umpteenth time.
Laura scudded about the house, snatching up Bit’s things and putting away the dishes from breakfast.
Brad had finally called back--but not until nearly midnight. By then, Laura had already given up. She had put Bit to bed and was thinking about doing the same herself.
But then her cell phone rang and, surprise, surprise, she had a clear signal for most of their half-hour conversation. Brad had returned from Paris later than expected yesterday, flat worn out from the trip. Instead of driving up last night, he had decided to swing by his office and check the mail, then go home for a good night's sleep. His plan was to drive up to Bear Gap first thing in the morning.
"We can't wait to see you," Laura gushed into the phone.
She had asked him, if it wasn't out of the way, to swing by Marco's at Buckhead and pick up a pizza for Bit.
She'd been dying for pizza ever since they'd left Atlanta. They'd re-heat it when he got to the house.
"No problem," he said. "Anything else?"
Laura had to admit it'd been a long time since she'd heard Brad sound so chatty and upbeat. "Just yourself," Laura said.
Brad chuckled. "Gonna show me those x-rated tricks you promised?"
"You'll find out when you get here."
Laura had gone to bed feeling great. Just thinking about Brad coming up tomorrow had helped her forget about all that weirdness at Phyllis's, along with the bells, the ghost boys and all the other strange things that had happened.
Even the bear.
She slept better that night than she had in days.
⸙
LAURA WOKE BIT at seven sharp. When she told her that Brad was on his way up from Atlanta with pizza, the girl sat in bed and shrieked.
“Pizza! For real?"
"For real," Laura replied. "He also has some gifts for us. All the way from Paris.”
Bit let out another squeal. "What are they?"
“I don't know, silly," Laura said, tapping her on the nose. You'll just have to wait and see.”
⸙
BY NOON, LAURA HAD finished tidying up the house and gone out on the deck to enjoy a cup of tea. Clad in a pair of pleated khakis and a corded gray sweater, she gazed out across the lake, admiring the way the sunbeams bounced off the glittering green surface. She was struck by how warm it was. This was the dead of winter, she thought. Didn’t it ever get cold up here?
She continued to stare at the lake, so dazzling in the early morning light. There was a breathtaking purity and majesty to this place that no nature magazine cover could ever come close to capturing. Flocks of Canadian geese honked their way across the far end, while far out over the middle of the lake, white and speckled birds wheeled and soared. On the opposite shore, the jagged row of green mountains raised their lofty prows dramatically against a powder-blue sky. Behind her in the woods, a calming breeze rustled through the tall trees.
Down on the beach, Laura watched Bit clambering over chunks of white-washed driftwood and sifting through the mud and sand—presumably in search of more artifacts. She wore baggy shorts and a fleece jacket with a hood and carried a bucket should she come across any treasure.
Laura cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Don’t get dirty. Brad should be here any minute!”
When Bit heard her mom's voice, she looked up and waved, then dropped what she was doing and scurried up the beach toward the house.
Bit had just made it onto the deck when she and Laura heard the honk of a horn around front. “It’s Brad! It's Brad!” Bit yelled, clapping her hands excitedly.
⸙
TOGETHER, THEY SPRINTED through the house, making straight for the front door. Laura swung open the door, and the two of them rushed outside to find Brad’s Mercedes crunching up the gravel drive. The tires were caked with mud--no surprise there, considering the condition of Yonah Trail--and the lower part of the expensive car's chasse looked like it had won first place in a mud-bogging contest.
The car braked and Brad jumped out. He wore a light blue crew-neck sweater and gray slacks. He waved.
“Brad!” Bit screeched. She raced down the steps and flung herself into his arms.
Brad scooped up the girl and hugged her tight. “How’s my little cupcake, huh?”
“I’m fine,” Bit replied, planting a kiss on Brad’s nose. “It’s about time you got here! We were starting to think you'd never show up.”
“Now, whatever gave you that impression?”
“I want to go sailing. Will you take me out on the sailboat, huh? Huh?”
Brad laughed, whirled the little girl around, then lowered her to the ground. “Let me get settled first, okay? Then we’ll go down and check out the boat. Sound like a good plan?”
“I can’t wait!” Bit squealed, jumping up and down.
Hands on hips, Brad cocked his head and disabled Laura with one of his handsome smiles. The gleam in his eye was all Laura needed to see to know he had missed her too. He started toward her, but Laura bounded down the steps and met him halfway up the walkway. Pressing herself against him, she whispered, "I'm so glad you're here."
“I’d forgotten how long the drive up here is,” Brad replied. He kissed her on the mouth, low and deep. “I can fly from Paris to Atlanta faster.”
Laura nibbled his neck. “Well, we’re just glad you finally made it,” she said, sniffing. "New cologne?"
Brad grinned. "Just something I picked up along the way. Like it?"
"It'll do."
Bit hung back, hands behind her, rocking back and forth. “Okay, okay, enough of the mushy stuff, what did you bring me back from Paris, France?”
Brad put his hand under his chin and pretended to be thinking hard. “Hmmm,” he started, “let me see if I didn’t forget anything.” He snapped his fingers and declared, “Why don't you check out the back seat and see?”
Bit darted for the Mercedes. While she fumbled around in the back, Brad took Laura in his arms and kissed her again. “I missed you,” he said, then kissed her again.
“Missed you too,” Laura said back, nuzzling his neck. The new cologne was intriguing. “I like it,” she said.
“You mean it?”
“It suits you.”
“You mean raw and rugged and excessively masculine?“
“No. Expensive.”
“Well, if you really must know, it's something they gave away to all the guys at the conference. A promotional gimmick, I'm sure.”
“How thoughtful. Wish I could have been there.”
“Me too. Next time maybe I can work it out so you can go with me.”
“Next time?" Laura’ lips parted in surprise. "You mean there’s going to be a next time in Paris?”
Brad grinned. "Maybe. If so, I’m taking you and Bit.”
Laura's eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh, Brad,” she said, “don’t joke like that.”
“I’m serious. There’s a possibility I might have to go back next month to close the deal. If I do, you and Bit are coming with me.”
Laura squeezed her husband even harder. “Darling, that's fantastic. Wait until I tell Bit. She was just asking if she could go to Paris sometime. I told her maybe high school or college. She'll be absolutely thrilled.” Laura suddenly stopped. “But she’ll be in school starting third grade.”
Brad gave a low laugh. “Forget school,” he fired back. “She’s only in the third grade, for Pete’s sake. It’s not like she’ll be missing her board exam in medical school.”
Bit slammed the door shut. “Look, Mom, look,” she yelled, holding up several bags of exquisitely wrapped packages. “Look what Brad brought us back!”
“Easy there, cupcake,” Brad warned, “there might some things breakable in there.”
“Breakable?” Bit asked. Her nose twisted up in mock disappointment. “I hope you didn’t bring me back any of that yucky old French perfume!”
Laura and Brad burst out laughing at the same time.
An angry looking cloud rose suddenly over the mountain, swallowing the sun.
It started to rain.
“Why don’t we go inside and find out?” Brad said. He put his arm around Laura and steered them both toward the house. “Wait a minute,” he said, halting in his tracks and snapping his fingers again. “Almost forgot something.”
Laura watched Brad pop open the trunk and retrieve a bag of shiny new golf clubs.
“Golf clubs? she asked.
Brad showed off the fancy set of irons packed inside an even fancier bag checkered in a British Blackwatch pattern. “Know who that is?” he asked, proudly running his fingers across a squiggly autograph on the outside of the bag.
Laura looked down and struggled to decipher the hand-scrawled autograph. "Ian Woosnam?"
"Yeah, you know, the world champion golfer. He won the Masters a few years back. Remember, he stayed at Rick and Sandra's
house one year in Augusta.” Rick and Sandra Hampton were two of their best friends. Rick was a successful investment banker and they owned a brick mansion in a high-end gated community near Augusta. "Don't you remember?"
Laura remembered. “I know who Ian Woosnam is. He's that little Welshman who trashed Rick and Sandra's house pretty good. Wasn't there some kind of lawsuit for damages?"
"They settled out of court," Brad noted.
"What are you doing with a set of Ian Woosnam's clubs?”
“It’s a long story,” Brad said. “Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you all about it.”
⸙
“WE STAYED AT THE same hotel in Paris,” Brad explained. They were seated in the living room, the pile of packages scattered around them. “We got to know each other over drinks, and when he found out I was originally from Augusta, he gave them to me.”
“You must have made a pretty good impression,” Laura said.
“We promised to stay in touch. He even invited us to his country estate near St. Andrews next time we’re in Scotland.”
“Next time we’re in Scotland,” Laura said mockingly. “What I want to know is, what do you plan to do with golf clubs up here in the wilderness?”
“I’m way ahead of you, my dear,” Brad replied cheerfully. “My sources tell me there’s a brand new eighteen-hole course near Cleveland. Thought I’d drive over while I’m up here and break in my new toys.”
"Hey, am I the only one who wants to open presents?" Bit complained.
Chapter Twenty
“IT’S BEAUTIFUL,” Laura swooned.
She was holding up a multi-stranded diamond necklace. It glittered magnificently in the dim glow of the fire in the hearth and collection of scented candles Laura had placed around the living room.
The People in the Lake Page 10
