Freesia sat up straight and leaned forward. "What did he say? Did he find Mama?"
"No, love. I wish I had better news to give you. Good God knows we need it. He still has no solid leads and no one has come forward yet. I mean, it was a long, cold winter, so everything they needed to find was probably buried under three feet of snow and many more feet of ice on the lake. But the warmer weather is here now. Maybe…"
Granddad snapped his recliner back down, patted Gran's arm and leaned forward. "Listen, dumplin'. The detective said that if he doesn't hear something by the end of the summer, or no one comes forward with something, he's going to have to shut down the search and hand it over to the Feds. File it as a cold case."
"No, he can't stop looking for her." Freesia's pulse pounded in her neck. "What if she's out there? What if she needs us and doesn't have a way to reach us? What if—" She stopped when she saw Sage's chin quiver.
Sage dropped her Krispie square on the floor, covered her ears and started rocking. Freesia grabbed the puppy dog lap cozy beside Sage and put it on her lap. Sage's rocking slowed and then stopped as she rubbed the fuzzy material on the sensory tool. She had different ones with different weights, but the puppy dog was her favorite. Mom made it for her just before she disappeared.
"Look, he hasn't given up," Granddad said in his usual soft tone. "He just doesn't have the manpower to keep everyone out there looking for your mom. And almost everyone else is a volunteer, right? They all have jobs and families of their own. We'll keep doing what we can. We're going up there tomorrow for the summer break. You know I'll be helping old Detective Cuaco while we're there. We just need you to understand that once summer is over…if they don't turn up anything…we'll have to respect his decision."
Freesia swallowed past the golf ball growing in her throat. "I don't respect that decision. I just can't. I will never stop looking for her. Even if she's…no matter what, she deserves to be found. We deserve to know what happened to her. I don't understand how you could just give up."
She ran up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door behind her. She hated crying, especially in front of Sage. So she smushed her face into the pillow, gripping the sides so tight her knuckles ached. She finally released the tears that had been building up for months, but she'd refused to let fall.
This entire year has sucked the bag. First Dad dies. Mom disappears. Now Sage stops talking and no one can help her but me. Then everyone at school starts treating her like a welfare case. I'm tired and angry and sick of everything. It just sucks, sucks, SUCKS!
Freesia cried until it was hard to breathe and the pillow was soaked from her tears and runny nose. She must have fallen asleep after her emotional release because when she opened her eyes, her room was dark and the Mom card was on her own pillow. She grabbed the card, ran her thumb over it and smiled. Her head throbbed and her eyes were sore.
Clanking dishes and the smell of roast beef alerted her grumbling stomach that it was dinnertime. She dragged herself out of bed and put the card back on Sage's pillow. She ran her fingers through her shoulder-length, strawberry-blonde hair and caught her reflection in the mirror on the closet—her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Nice. A few splashes of cold water might be a good idea before resurfacing downstairs.
Granddad was watching America's Funniest Home Videos. Sage was doing a puzzle while she listened to music with her noise-reduction headphones on. She looked like a mini-version of Freesia with her reddish-blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin and petite frame. The only difference between the two girls, aside from age and height, was that Freesia's hair was poker straight and Sage's hair exploded with springy ringlets.
Granddad motioned for Freesia to sit on the footrest of his recliner. "Well, look who's back. Have a good rest, dumplin'?"
She sat down and rested her head on his legs. "Yeah. I guess. Sorry I ran off."
Granddad lowered his hand on her head and stroked her hair. "No worries. We all get cranky from time to time. Even me. And you've had the weight of the world on your wee shoulders for too long. Look. Let's not worry about what may or may not happen at the end of the summer. Let's just enjoy our supper. Before bed, we'll pack up so we can head out in the morning. Sound good?"
Some loser on the show was dancing on a chair, tumbled over and landed on the back of the chair on his crotch. Why do people find that crap so funny? And why would you do that when someone is holding up a camera? Freesia rolled her eyes. Granddad laughed so hard he almost knocked her off his lap.
"Supper's ready," Gran called from the kitchen. "Wash up, turn off the TV and guide Sage in here, will ya?"
Freesia reached over and put her hand on the puzzle as a way of getting Sage's attention. If you just popped in front of her when she was concentrating on something else, the rest of the evening would be spent peeling her off the ceiling and calming her for bed.
Sage looked up and signed, 'Eat?'
Freesia nodded. She was relieved that they'd have the keyboard to talk to Sage through. The signing was great, but she needed a stronger way to get her thoughts out. Otherwise she could get trapped in there forever. And she was way too smart for that.
During supper there was no more talk about the chat with Detective Cuaco or what he said. Just lots of Granddad's really bad jokes, a lot of good food and discussions of summer plans at the cabin up at West Hawk Lake. And in between bites of roast beef, roasted mini potatoes, mixed veggies and fake laughing at Granddad's stinky jokes, Freesia was making plans of her own.
The lake was the last place anyone saw Mom. And she was going to find her. Or find someone who could.
One way or another.
Chapter Two
Freesia walks down a path through the woods. The air is thick with mist, like walking through a wall of water. She hears her heart beating in her ears. Her hair and clothes cling to her skin. The path is on a decline toward the lake. With each step, her bare feet squish into the spongy moss, forcing it up in between her toes. It feels like she's walking on marshmallows.
She squints in the direction of the lake. There's someone there…standing on the dock. She inches closer, walking on her tiptoes. She's so close now. She can hear the water ebbing up against the shoreline and…humming? What song is that?
Her heart is pounding now, her eyes flooding with tears. Her moss-covered feet reach the slimy wet rock and she steadies her pace so as not to fall over into the frigid water. The humming…it's so familiar. Goose bumps explode on her extremities and prickle her scalp.
She reaches out and touches the person's shoulder. The person turns around…it's…
Mama.
But her face isn't youthful and happy. It's gray and her beautiful skin has peck marks and scratches all over it. Her clothes are torn and stained. Her eyes are dark.
"I've been waiting for you, Freesia," she says, reaching out. "Help me!"
Suddenly the side of Mama's head gushes with blood, her eyes cloud over and water pours out of her mouth. Small, wormy creatures ooze out from her nose.
Freesia screams.
"Mama!"
Freesia jerked awake, hitting the side of her head on the car window and kicking her feet out in front—getting Rudy in the chops with one foot and the back of Gran's seat with the other.
Gran pulled down the mirror to see behind her. "Everything okay back there? You almost made Granddad jump out of the driver's seat."
Freesia rubbed her head and focused on her breathing, trying to gain control over her racing heart. "Yeah, we're okay. Just had a bad dream."
"You were sleeping pretty hard there. Need some water or something?"
"Yes, please." Freesia reached down and gave poor Rudy a rubdown. "Sorry about that, old girl." The dog licked Freesia's wrist, gave a wet snort and laid her chin back down on her paws. She realized the wet, mossy feeling in her dream came from Rudy licking her bare feet. She rubbed her toes on Rudy's hairy leg, making a mental note to always wear socks in the car with the dog.
Gran handed her a water bottle.
Freesia grabbed it, twisted the cap and sucked back half in a few swift gulps. "Thanks."
"We should be there in about half an hour," Gran said. "You can relax or go for a swim before lunch."
Freesia leaned back in her seat, wiping the sweat from her forehead on the sleeve of her t-shirt. She glanced over at Sage, who seemed content reading and listening to her music therapy on her MP3 player with her dark sunglasses on. Not too long ago, they couldn't even go to the grocery store without Sage wanting to get out of the car. Now a pair of shades, her specialized music and her fidget box filled with her favorite sit-down activities was all it took to make her feel better. Amazing what a little time, the right information and awesome therapists could do.
What a horrible dream, she thought. What brought that on? Maybe it was the greasy breakfast she had. She knew better than to fall asleep after scarfing down a McDonald's Egg McMuffin. As a rule Gran never fed them fast food—especially not Sage—but they'd all gotten up late and it took forever to pack the car. So they broke the rules and went through the drive-through.
Freesia still felt the sandwich sitting in the pit of her stomach like a five-pound weight. She sighed, pressing her forehead against the cool window. Thank goodness for air conditioning.
Granddad blared his big-band music, doing that thing he did with his lips that sounded like he was playing the trumpet. Gran laughed at his musical talent. Sage had a stress ball in one hand while she continued reading. Freesia stared out the window, watching the bright-yellow mustard fields zoom by. Once the view looked rockier and less farm-like, she knew the ride would be almost over.
She couldn't get the image of her mom out of her mind. It was so real! Maybe Mama was trying to reach them from…wherever she was. Freesia shivered and closed her eyes.
I'll find you, Mama. One way or another, I'll come find you.
Granddad pulled up behind the short lineup of cars beside the small booth at the Whiteshell checkpoint entrance way. Each summer, they had to buy a pass sticker for the windshield, giving them access to the park. It was a way to keep track of how many people came and went and hopefully to keep the riffraff out. Bob Harper had worked there as long as Freesia remembered. He served in the same military division as her dad. In fact, Bob was her dad's superior officer until he retired the same time Granddad did. Bob was closer to Granddad's age than her dad's—late forties, maybe—but in much better shape.
He looked a lot like that George Hamilton old guy Gran swooned over—same dark tan, same dark hair with the silver flecks and same 'Rico Suave' way of talking. He made Gran blush, which wasn't easy to do. He and Granddad pretty much had the same conversation every year.
"George," Bob said. "Up with the family again, huh? And who is that sweet young thing sitting beside you? I swear you look younger and more gorgeous every year, Lil."
Freesia rolled her eyes, stuck her finger in her mouth and made gagging noises to make Sage laugh. Sage just stared at her, expressionless. Jokes were sometimes wasted on that girl.
Granddad released a belly laugh. "You watch it there, Bob. Or I'll tell your wife on ya. Gimme a pass there, will ya? And don't hurt yourself doing some actual work."
"Yeah, yeah, don't hurt yourself pulling your wallet out. Must be painful for both you and it."
Sage jumped in response to Bob's laugh, which was even louder than Granddad's, and put her headphones back on.
Bob disappeared into his booth. When he came back out he had Granddad's change in one hand and a bright yellow sticker in the other. He leaned down into Granddad's window, hanging his arms inside. "Yeah, so Frank's up now too. Just came in yesterday. Was asking when y'all were getting up. Told him I didn't know, but that you usually came up once the kids were done with school. Bought a new boat he's itching to test drive."
He stuck his head in past Granddad's seat. "You girls will have a great time this summer, if I have anything to say about it. You make sure that old Mr. Oakley gets you out skiing on his new boat or Bob'll come lookin' for him." He wiggled his eyebrows.
Sage put her hands over the headphones and rocked.
Freesia flicked her sister a look, and answered Bob. "Uh, yeah. We'll be okay. Thanks. And I'll be sure to give Mr. Oakley your message."
Bob nodded, leaned in closer to Granddad, lowering his voice.
Freesia frowned. Why do adults always think kids can't hear them?
"Poor little darlin's. The main group of us is still out there lookin' for Tamara. There's a meeting this weekend. I'm sure Barry'll be by to talk to ya about it all. Heard the crappy news they may pull the plug. I'll keep on. You can count on me. Loved that girl like she was my own. She put herself out there…for many of us."
Sage rocked so hard her head bashed into the back of Granddad's headrest. Freesia grabbed Lamby and the heavier lap cozy out of the fidget box and put them both in her lap.
"Appreciate that, Bob." Granddad gave Bob's forearm that firm pat or grab thing that guys gave as a form of a hug. "See ya later. Stop by one afternoon on an off day. We'll stock up on Corona and have the BBQ goin'."
Bob stood up, released another thunderous belly laugh, smacked the roof of the car and waved them through. Freesia was glad to be on the move again. She didn't realize until the car had stopped how much she needed to use the bathroom. Five more minutes of idle chitchat between Bob and Granddad and there'd be a mess on the backseat she'd have to blame on old Rudy.
Of course, her torture wasn't quite over because Gran had to stop off at the Brown Store before heading up to the cabin to pick up milk and a few other necessities. They always did a big grocery trip over at Falcon Lake the day after arriving, but the cooler only held so much.
It was so nice to get out of the cramped car. Freesia reached up to the sky and felt the burn of a good stretch in her back muscles. Her butt had fallen asleep an hour earlier.
"Okay, girls, I'll get each of you a mini paper bag filled with treats," Granddad said. "Ready…set…go!"
Sage ran ahead into the store. It was the same every year. Len and Gloria Patterson, who owned the store, only charged Granddad a buck for each of the girls to cram whatever candy they could fit into a tiny bag. It was cool earlier on, but Freesia just wasn't interested in a bag full of tooth rot anymore.
Granddad smirked. "Too old for this now, huh? No worries. Just come on in and choose a little something."
Freesia gave a weak smile and walked up the stairs to the store behind her grandparents. As she put her hand up to hold the screen door open, something caught her eye over on the right. Down the paved hill to Crescent Beach there was a girl—about her age—just standing there.
The girl was slight, her waist-length, jet-black hair surrounding her like a poncho. Her eyebrows curved around her almond-shaped eyes that Freesia could tell, even from where she stood, shone a deep emerald. She looked as though she spent a lot of time in the sun because her skin was a deep brown. It was as if she'd stepped out of a magazine from the 1960s with her retro jean cutoffs and funky 'Peace and Love' tie-dyed T-shirt.
Freesia wanted to look away.
"What are you doing, Freesy? Shut that door, now, before every mosquito in West Hawk takes residence in here."
"Okay, Gran, I…I'm coming, one sec."
When she turned back to the mystery girl, there was no one there.
A chill shot through Freesia's body.
This is turning out to be one weird summer so far.
After waiting for fifteen minutes for Sage to pick out her bag full of candy, they piled back into the car and finally headed up to the cabin. The five-minute ride between the store and their final destination felt like hours as Freesia's bladder had almost reached the breaking point.
Granddad slowed the car down to a crawl as he turned onto the gravel road leading to the driveway.
Freesia crossed her legs, squeezing her thighs together, as every pebble beneath the vehicle brought additional torture. She rolled her eyes and
flopped her head back on her headrest. C'mon, Granddad. There's nobody out here. Roadkill goes faster than this.
He stopped at a stop sign.
Freesia sighed. Why they put one there, I'll never understand.
He turned right even more slowly.
One more left and a sharp right and we're at the driveway.
She was about to tell Granddad to put the pedal to the metal when something caught her eye out of Sage's window. It was that girl again. She stood by the garbage cage set just before the mini-beach for local cabin dwellers. It was much smaller than the main beach in town, but perfect for older residents or little kids or people who just didn't like the crowds on the big beach.
Freesia forgot about her overfull bladder and leaned forward to see past Sage. How did she get there so fast? It was possible to get from town to the small beach in twenty minutes, but still. She wore the same clothes, but she had a dark blue hooded sweatshirt on now that looked way too big for her. A man's sweatshirt. And it looked…familiar.
Freesia didn't look away. And neither did the mystery girl. They locked eyes. Freesia felt a strange electricity shoot through her body, starting in the pit of her stomach, exploding out to her extremities. Her fingertips tingled. Her mouth felt like she'd eaten a spoonful of sand.
Granddad turned so slow the whole scene felt like a movie running in slow motion. Without breaking her stare, the mystery girl pulled the hood over her head, allowing her long hair to hang out, walked backward toward the beach and turned around. Freesia strained to see where the girl walked to until her seatbelt stopped her body, pressing against her bladder. The urge to pee returned.
She saw the old sign hanging at the end of their driveway reading, The Freisens—Lot 29. Thank God. She almost screamed it out loud. When she could concentrate again, she'd figure out who that girl was and why she had followed them around.
There were enough mysteries to solve this summer without having some freak stalking her too.
Dark Water Page 2
