Summit Lake

by Charlie Donlea

  “What’s that?”

  “Becca being married. I looked into her past pretty deep. Never came across any record that suggested such a thing. To get married, you need a marriage license. After the wedding ceremony, a marriage certificate is issued and must be filed with the county to make the marriage legal. It’s part of our great bureaucracy, which is to say it’s nothing more than a moneymaker for the counties, but still required by law. I never found any such record.”

  Kelsey thought about that. They walked down Maple Street until they reached Minnehaha Avenue, then stopped in front of the Summit Lake police headquarters. Could Millie Mays have been mistaken? Did the old lady misunderstand her daughter’s description of her conversation with Becca? Had a touch of dementia and embellishment grown the story in Millie’s mind? Possibly, Kelsey thought. But unlikely. Kelsey had interviewed thousands of sources in the same fashion she did Millie—casually, without pressure to get detailed information—and Kelsey had a feel for when people were stretching what they knew. Sometimes people embellished their knowledge to feel more important and maybe get their name in a magazine. Other times people had no real clue about what Kelsey was asking and couldn’t bring themselves to admit it, so they created a story out of nothing. Millie fell into neither of these categories. She was reluctant to divulge the secret she kept, and surely wouldn’t have given up any information had Kelsey not manipulated her.

  “What if they ran off to Vegas and got married on a whim?” she asked.

  Commander Ferguson shook his head. “Doesn’t matter if it’s Vegas or Jamaica. You have to file a marriage certificate, and it would have shown up when we ran her through our national database. If this supposed marriage happened outside the U.S., the certificate would have to route through the U.S. Embassy in the foreign country before arriving back here in the States, but it would still get here. Maybe a few weeks later, so the argument could be that it’s still out there being processed. Problem with that theory is that there’s no record of Becca leaving the country. So if she got married, it was right here in the U.S. of A., and there’s no record of it. So she either bucked the system or you’re wrong, Miss Castle.” Commander Ferguson brushed his hand over his goatee. “Where’d you get this idea about Becca being married anyway?”

  Kelsey gave him a smile, as if he should know better than to ask such a question.

  “Fine,” he said. “How credible is this person?”

  “If the marriage angle is true, she’s very credible. I guess we’ll have to dig a little for the answer.”

  The commander pulled his stubbed cigarette from his pocket and brought it back to life. He took extra care to keep the smoke to himself. “Only way that scenario is possible would be if they got married on the sly, real quick, without anybody knowing, then never filed the marriage certificate, which they’d have to do together.”

  “So maybe Becca was killed before they filed?”

  Commander Ferguson pointed his cigarette at her. “Exactly. That’s the only way.”

  They both stood in silence for a while.

  “I’ve looked very carefully through the information you gave me,” Kelsey finally said.

  “So have I.”

  “Do you know anything about Becca keeping a journal?”

  “What sort of journal?”

  “You know, a diary.”

  The commander shook his head. “Never heard she did. Why? She kept one?”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “Where is it? Her parents?”

  “Doubt it,” Kelsey said. “Supposedly she was writing in it just hours before she was killed. It should have been in the evidence collected that night from the stilt house.”

  “There was no journal found that night.”

  “I know.”

  “And you’re saying there should have been?”

  “I’m saying that if Becca was writing in a journal while she was here in Summit Lake, it has to be somewhere.”

  “And I assume it wasn’t in any of the drawers or cabinets you were just banging around back at the Eckersleys’?”

  Kelsey shook her head. “Who collected the evidence that night? Created that evidence list?”

  “My guys,” Commander Ferguson said. “Under my supervision.”

  “Not your state friends?”

  “They didn’t arrive until late that night, after most of the evidence was documented. If a diary was in that house, we’d have found it.”

  “And documented it?”

  “Of course.”

  Kelsey closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

  “Still doesn’t help us much,” the commander said. “Even if it’s true about Becca being married.”

  Kelsey cocked her head to the side. “No? You told me to find Becca’s secret.”

  “I did,” Commander Ferguson said as he sucked the life from the cigarette. “But finding a secret is never the key. Figuring out why a secret is a secret”—he lifted his cigarette into the air—“that will lead you somewhere.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Becca Eckersley

  Summit Lake

  December 28, 2010

  Fourteen months before her death

  They spent three days after Christmas in Summit Lake. Becca and Jack walked the town, drank coffee at Millie’s Coffee House, ate dinners with Becca’s parents, and spent quiet nights at the stilt house watching movies and playing cards. Mr. Eckersley tried to impress on Jack the wonders of practicing law, instead of simply possessing a law degree. Jack promised not to make any decisions until he finished school.

  On their last night, Jack and Becca went to dinner alone.

  “This summer,” Becca said. “You’ll have to come to Greensboro so I can show you where I live. We’ll drive to the coast and watch the waves roll in from the Caribbean. Maybe after law school we’ll take a vacation there.”

  “Where?”

  “The Caribbean. St. Lucia or St. Thomas. Or maybe we’ll charter a sailboat and cruise around the British Virgin Islands.”

  “I don’t know how to sail.”

  “I’ll teach you this summer. I’ll take you to Mumford Cove where we keep our Catalina. It’s right on the coast.”

  “Great idea,” Jack said. “So a Catalina is a sailboat?”

  Becca smiled. “Yes.”

  “I don’t speak the same language as you. We never had a boat in my family.”

  “So what. It doesn’t take long to learn to sail.”

  “What are you going to do after law school?” Jack asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, look at your life here. You go to a very expensive college—and so do I, but I have a full ride. I assume your parents write a check each semester. You’ve got a vacation home in the mountains, a huge house in Greensboro, and a Catalina. Two of them, right? One back home and one up here?”

  “So? We also have a house in Vail. What does it matter?”

  “If you saw my life in Wisconsin—and I don’t mean this in a bad way, because I’m not ashamed of it—but if you saw where I lived, the house I grew up in, the car we drive, I think you’d see a very different life than all this.”

  “What does that have to do with what I’m going to do after law school?”

  “First-year lawyers don’t exactly kill it, unless you go to New York and sell yourself as a slave to a big firm. But I know that’s not what you want to do. And your dad is smart enough not to bring his little girl into the firm a few years after he brought in his son and throw a huge salary at her before she proves herself.”

  “So I get an apartment and drive a used car and eat cheap meals. You don’t think I can do that?”

  “I think you can do it, it’s just that for me, I’m used to it.”

  “But we’ll be together, so it doesn’t matter where we live or what we have.” Becca smiled. “You’re enough for me. But I have news for you, Jack. You’re going to be quite successful in whatever you do.”

  He shrugge
d. “I guess we both have to get through one more semester of college and then law school before we worry about any of that.”

  “It’s so weird, isn’t it?” Becca said. “Thinking about life after college? No more running around, no more hiding things. We can get our own place and actually sleep together, all night. No more sneaking home in the middle of the night. It’s going to be weird telling Gail and Brad, but I think Gail suspects something anyway.”

  “Yeah,” Jack said as he stared out the window of the restaurant. “Gonna be real weird.”

  “Becca Eckersley!”

  The voice was deep and practiced, and when Jack looked up he was surprised to see someone his age attached to it. The guy wore a trying-way-too-hard beard that was meticulously maintained, and of which he was obviously very proud.

  “Hi,” Becca said, shooting a quick glance at Jack. Her eyes widened briefly—a little thing she did to let Jack know something awkward was happening. Becca stood up and offered the guy an obligatory hug. “What are you doing up here?” she asked.

  “Home from school and here with my parents. How’s GW?”

  “Good,” Becca said. “Really, really good. How about Harvard?”

  “It is what it’s supposed to be. A stepping stone, right? Everything’s kosher.”

  Jack saw her wipe her hands on her skirt. Another one of her tells. “This is Jack,” Becca said.

  Jack stood. He was a few inches taller and significantly wider than the guy in front of him. He offered his hand.

  The guy grabbed it and shook hard. The alpha male. “Richard Walker. Becca and I are old friends,” he said, like they were forty years old and on a two-decade sabbatical.

  “Richard and I went to high school together,” Becca said.

  “Yeah,” the guy said. “We dated.” He looked at Jack. “We were what they call high school sweethearts.”

  Jack kept his gaze on Richard and offered an expressionless face. “I’m familiar with the term.” Jack was also now familiar with Richard Walker. This was the idiot who stopped by school every so often to upset Becca and make her cry. When Jack and Becca first met, she was untying the dating knot that snared these two throughout high school. Four years later, she was still working at it. Jack remembered Becca’s red-rimmed eyes during finals week when this jackass stopped by to again pledge his love for her and explain how brokenhearted he was without her. Jack also recalled from his discussions with Becca that this guy’s family owned a house here in Summit Lake, where the two spent every summer during high school.

  “You been in town for a while?” Richard asked.

  “About a week. We came up for Christmas. Leaving tomorrow.”

  “You both came up?”

  Becca nodded.

  “How do you guys know each other?” Richard asked.

  “We go to school together,” Becca said.

  “We’re what they call college sweethearts,” Jack said.

  Richard’s face froze for a second, then a forced smile appeared and Jack could tell instantly this guy was full of himself, and shit.

  “Gotcha. Good for you guys. Where you from, chief?”

  Chief ? “Green Bay.”

  “Wisconsin?” Richard made a strange face. “The sticks, huh? Welcome to civilization.”

  Jack stared at him but said nothing.

  Richard broke away and looked at Becca again. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

  Becca’s eyebrows rose. “Sure.”

  “In private?”

  Becca smiled awkwardly, looked quickly at Jack and then back to Richard. “I’m out to dinner, Richard. So I’m not going to run in the corner with you like we’re in high school.”

  Jack laughed under his breath. He loved this girl for a reason.

  “Gotcha,” Richard said again. “Didn’t mean to intrude. It was really nice seeing you.”

  “You too,” Becca said as she gave a reluctant hug.

  “Take it easy, chief.”

  “See ya, Dick,” Jack said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Dick. It’s short for Richard.”

  “I just go by Richard.”

  Jack sat down and pulled his napkin over his lap. “See ya, Richard.”

  The forced smile came back to Richard’s face. “Really classy, Becca. I’m sure your dad’s happy you’re running around with this guy.”

  “Bye, Richard,” Becca said. “Have a good New Year’s.”

  Richard stared at Becca. Finally, he took a step backward. “Yeah.”

  Jack watched him leave. “What’s Paul Bunyan’s problem?”

  “I don’t know,” Becca said. “God, that was awkward.”

  “Has he always talked like that, with that fake broadcaster’s voice?”

  Becca shrugged. “He wants to litigate. I guess he thinks it will help.”

  “It’ll help the jury think he’s an idiot.” Jack looked at Becca. “And you used to date that guy? That’s the guy?”

  She smiled. “Stop.”

  “He seems a little off, no?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah, he did look a little strange. He’s still . . . you know, he’s never really gotten over us.”

  “You think?” Jack said.

  “Did you call him Dick?”

  “By accident.”

  Becca shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”

  They finished dinner and walked down Maple Street on the way back to the stilt house.

  “My parents love you, by the way. Don’t worry about Richard, he was trying to get under your skin.”

  “I may not become the lawyer your dad wants you to marry, but compared to Dick Walker I’m certain your parents think I’m a real catch. Unless your parents fell for that fake smile I almost wiped off his face.”

  “My dad always liked him in high school, but only because I was dating him. Richard’s dad is a big trial lawyer, so my dad knows him. Richard used to play that angle. But that’s enough about high school. We’ll see who we run into next year when we visit your parents.”

  Jack laughed. “I have no Dick Walkers in my closet, trust me.”

  “Well, Richard was our coming-out party. He’s the first person we’ve told about us dating, besides our parents. What’s our plan for when we get back to school? We’re telling everyone, right? Gail and Brad?”

  Jack shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “You don’t seem so sure,” Becca said as they walked.

  “I think we need to talk about it.”

  “About what?”

  He looked at her. “I think we’re going to have some issues when we get back to school.”

  “What kind of issues? You’re starting to get me worried.”

  “Not issues between you and me. Issues with our friends. We’ve been keeping this whole thing a secret for so long, it’s sort of become scandalous. I’m starting to think we should’ve just come clean from the beginning, last summer when everything happened between us. It would have saved us from a bunch of trouble we’re about to run into.”

  They turned onto a side street and headed east toward the lake.

  “I know what you’re saying,” Becca said. “But I think everything will be okay. Maybe a little weird at first, but that’s about it.”

  “Gail is one thing,” Jack said as they started along the dock in front of the Eckersleys’ house. “Brad is another.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jack didn’t have time to answer. As he and Becca made their way along the dock they saw Brad sitting on the bench on Becca’s patio. Confusion shaped his face as Brad saw Becca approach with Jack.

  “Brad?” Becca said as a slow smile formed on her face, not understanding what was happening. “Oh my God. What do you guys have going on?” she smiled at Jack. “Did you know about this?”

  “Shit,” Jack said, letting go of Becca’s hand.

  Becca walked closer to Brad and tried to give him a hug.

  Brad held away her advance with a straight arm, starin
g only at Jack. “Did you tell her?” he asked.

  “No.” Jack said. “I haven’t said a word about anything.”

  “Brad,” Becca said. “What’s going on?” Her smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

  Brad stared at Jack, unable to look at Becca. Finally he pulled his gaze to hers. “I came to tell you I had feelings for you. I thought you felt the same way. That’s what you said the other night.” Brad shook his head and let out a forced laugh. “I came to tell you I’m in love with you. But what? You’re running around behind my back with Jack?” He looked back to Jack. “I thought your mom would kill you if you weren’t home for Christmas.”

  “We just planned this a few weeks ago, Brad,” Becca said.

  Brad’s eyes were squinted as he pieced things together. “Are you guys together or something?” Brad asked.

  Becca nodded with no expression on her face. “Since summer,” she said. “But it wasn’t all of a sudden, Brad. We had feelings for each other for a while.”

  Brad shook his head. “So all the talks we had, about my father and all his shit; all the times we stayed up until sunrise, during all that you were with Jack? Thinking about Jack?”

  “Thinking about . . . no,” Becca said. “I was thinking about you and your situation. Because we’re friends, Brad. You and I have always stayed up late talking about things. That’s what you and I have always done. You’re a great listener and one of my best friends.”

  “I’m going to head inside, let you guys talk,” Jack said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the other day at lunch?” Brad asked.

  Jack let out a long breath. “I don’t know, Brad. I was shocked to hear what you were telling me. The same way you would have been shocked had I told you.”

  “So you let me go on like a fool, telling you how I thought Becca and I were going to get together. And you were fine letting me spend all Christmas break thinking I had a chance with her. Trying to figure out a way to tell her how I feel. The whole time you knew you were going to be with her over break, laughing at me?”

  “No one’s laughing at you, Brad. I’d never do that. And the other day wasn’t the right time to tell you. I had to get my thoughts straight.”