Her Silent Spring

by Melinda Woodhall

  “Where’s Summer?” he asked, opening the door and sliding out of the truck. “Someone said she’d run past, heading toward the lake, but I couldn’t find her.”

  June cringed as she remembered what she’d done. The alcohol and her jealousy had taken over. She looked at Beau, knowing she’d have to come clean. If she didn’t tell him, Summer would.

  “Summer saw us kissing,” she said. “She ran out of the house, and she hasn’t come back. She probably doesn’t want to be found.”

  Staggering toward the lake, Beau called out into the dark sky.

  “Summer? Summer are you out there?”

  June followed him down a well-worn path, past the boat house. Dark water lapped at the shore as they looked around.

  “Are you sure she came down here?” June asked.

  “Yes, I remember someone saying she’d run past them toward the lake,” Beau insisted. “And if she isn’t at the house…”

  His voice faded away as he looked across the water. A rowboat bobbed gently up and down about twenty yards from shore.

  “Summer!” he yelled.

  There was no responding cry as Beau began to undress, removing first his shirt and then his jeans.

  “She wouldn’t have done anything stupid,” June said, but Beau was already splashing into the water, his muscles as smooth and hard as a Greek statue, his blonde hair shimmering in the moonlight.

  Soon the water had reached his chest, and then he was swimming. Reaching the boat, he struggled to get up and over the side. Finally, he gave up and pulled the boat behind him as he made his way back to the shore.

  June ran out to help him drag the boat out of the water. Looking inside, she saw Beau’s letter jacket. The one he’d given Summer only a week before. The one that June had hated to see her friend wearing.

  The jacket was there, but Summer was not.

  Turning to Beau, she saw that he was staring back toward the water, his eyes wide with shock.

  “She’s out there,” he moaned. “I’ve got to find her.”

  “You’ve been drinking. You’ll drown if you go out there, again,” June cried, grabbing his hand before he could dash back into the lake. “Besides, it’s too late. She’s…gone. Summer is gone.”

  Beau gripped June’s hand, his panic mounting.

  “This is our fault. She’s dead out there because she saw what we did. She saw us betraying her, and…she…she…”

  “Stop it,” June yelled, her own fear and guilt starting to build.

  “But they’ll all blame us. They all saw us kissing in there, and they’ll know what happened to Summer is our fault.”

  Fear blossomed in June’s chest as she thought of facing Summer’s mother and father. They would be home the next day. What would they say? What would the whole town say about her when they found out what she’d done?

  “I’ll take care of this.”

  June inhaled deeply, forcing herself to think.

  “No one ever has to know,” she said, forming the plan in her mind as she spoke. “All they’ll know is Summer’s gone.”

  Beau’s face was pale with shock as he stared at her.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll write a letter,” she said, sounding more confident than she felt. “I’ll make it seem like Summer wrote it. I’ll leave it for her parents telling them she was running off to…to Hollywood. I’ll tell them not to go after her.”

  Beau shook his head.

  “It’ll never work. They’ll search for her. They’ll -”

  “We’ve got to try.” June took both his hands in hers and squeezed. “As long as we stick together, and stick to our story, it’ll work. No one ever has to know the truth.”

  Now, more than twenty years later, June wondered if she and Beau had gotten it wrong. What if Summer hadn’t drowned in Sky Lake that night? What if she had been abducted by a serial killer like Frankie claimed?

  A sick ache filled June’s stomach as she remembered how she’d gone up to Summer’s bedroom and left the forged note for her friend’s parents to find. That note had prevented Sheriff Duffy from performing a true search. It had left Summer’s parents in agonizing limbo for decades.

  I was just trying to protect Beau. I thought it was the right thing to do.

  Of course, it had also ensured that she and Beau would form a bond over their terrible secret. A bond that had eventually led to marriage. But their secret had festered between them, and deep-down June knew that Beau had never gotten over Summer.

  She’d finally had enough, and they’d been divorced for over five years. June had moved on. She’d found a new man, and things had been looking up. She’d even started thinking that she and Archer Holt might tie the knot one day.

  I guess that’ll never happen now. Not if Archer and the whole town find out I wrote the letter to Summer’s parents, and that I’ve been lying about everything all these years.

  But if Summer had been abducted and killed, June knew she would have to come clean. Whatever information she had, no matter how small, might help the FBI stop the killer before he could kill again.

  Crossing to her desk, she opened the top drawer and looked in at the little card inside. Special Agent Charlie Day had left her number, telling her to call if she remembered anything else.

  June figured it was time to make that call.

  Picking up the phone on her desk, June dialed the number on the card and held the phone to her ear as it began to ring. She turned at a soft sound coming from the back room.

  Could Pearl have come in the back door?

  A voice sounded on the other end of the connection.

  “This is Special Agent Charlie Day.”

  Resisting the urge to hang up, June cleared her throat.

  “Agent Day, this is June Taggert.”

  She swallowed hard, hoping she was doing the right thing.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The stupid woman was actually calling the FBI. After twenty years of hiding her deceitfulness and lies, it appeared that she was finally going to tell the truth. Or at least, her version of the truth.

  Opening the back door, he stepped up behind June, furious, but relieved that he’d arrived in time to prevent her from opening a can of worms that had been closed for decades.

  “Who do you think you’re calling?”

  June jumped out of her chair and spun around to face him.

  “Mack? What are you doing sneaking up behind me?”

  His eyes were fixed on the phone in her hand. Before she could move, he grabbed the phone, jabbing his thumb on the display and ending the call.

  Seeing June’s face fill first with shock, and then with fear, Mack threw the phone onto the floor.

  “Summer died because of you.”

  He spat the words at her, finally able to tell her what he’d really been thinking all these years.

  June recoiled, shaking her head in denial.

  “You always wanted what she had.”

  Mack’s voice was flat as he took a step closer.

  “You were always jealous of her. You wanted her gone.”

  The mask of normalcy he usually wore fell away. June was the one who had started the series of events leading to Summer’s abduction and death. It was time she paid.

  “If you hadn’t been such a whore, Summer would never have been out on that lake,” Mack hissed. “Everything that happened to Summer after that was all your fault.”

  “That’s not true,” June protested. “She was my…my best friend.”

  “Real friends don’t make a play for their best friend’s guy,” he muttered. “They don’t try to sabotage their friend’s relationship.”

  Mack slipped the long syringe out of the pocket of his jacket with one smooth movement. Before June knew what was happening, he had stabbed the needle into the soft flesh of her upper arm.

  Letting out a
gasp of pain, June dropped shocked eyes to the syringe Mack still wielded in his hand. A thick drop of clear liquid oozed from the tip of the needle.

  “Why did you…do…”

  But June’s voice was already fading. Fear filled her eyes as she tried to keep them open, but within seconds her body had crumpled to the floor at his feet.

  Mack looked down at her motionless body with cold eyes.

  You had it coming. I should have done this years ago. Decades ago.

  A sound at the front door caused Mack to look up. A shadowy figure was visible through the blinds just as a key slipped into the lock with a metallic click.

  Someone was coming through the front door.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Mack struggled to catch his breath after his mad dash out the back door and down the alley. He’d managed to make it out onto Fullerton Road without encountering anyone else and had ducked under the bus stop shelter to escape the light rain that had started to fall.

  Only the barrel lock June had slid into place had prevented Pearl Abbott from catching him standing over June’s body.

  I guess it was the old biddy’s lucky day.

  Feeling his pocket buzz, Mack sank onto a bench and pulled out his phone. An alert had popped up notifying him that someone had replied to a message thread on the darknet board.

  Amber Sloan was asking him to handle an expedited shipment. She was willing to pay extra. So much extra that Mack was instantly suspicious.

  He thought back to his previous trip, replaying Misty’s words before he’d silenced her.

  “Amber’s setting you up...”

  Her words hadn’t surprised him. Mack had known from their very first meeting that Amber was the lowest sort of criminal, so he didn’t doubt Misty’s claim. Amber would set him up in a heartbeat if the feds made it worth her while.

  And there were other considerations as well.

  Frequent trips to the same place too often could draw unwanted attention. Border patrol and customs used systems to track flight activity. They were constantly trying to identify suspicious aircraft.

  So far, after all these years, Mack had managed to avoid detection by keeping his illicit flights to a minimum, making sure to blend in with the legitimate flights coming in and going out of Sky Lake.

  Mack was trying to calculate his next move when a young woman holding a bright red umbrella walked past the bus stop. He stared after her, not sure he could believe what he was seeing.

  That’s Summer. But it can’t be her. Can it?

  Studying the girl’s long silvery blonde hair and slim figure, Mack decided his eyes had been playing tricks on him.

  She’s younger than Summer, but just as lovely. Maybe even more so.

  Heart racing, he watched the girl stop and call to her companions. Mack quickly dropped his head when he saw the skinny PI with the big mouth, and the sharp-eyed reporter.

  They hurried toward the girl, followed by an attractive young woman with long dark hair and a big, white Labrador retriever.

  The dog stared over at Mack, as if it sensed his heightened emotions, and Mack wondered what the animal was thinking.

  Maybe it can sense I’m a killer. Maybe it can smell death on me.

  Then the crosswalk light changed, and the girl and her companions walked on toward the Frisky Colt Diner, while Mack followed the group with his eyes.

  He’d just seen an angel, and he couldn’t let her get away.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Veronica shook the rain off her jacket and hung it on an old wooden coat rack by the door. Taking the soggy red umbrella from Skylar, she dropped it into the umbrella stand and looked around for the hostess, suddenly famished.

  The lunch rush at the Frisky Colt Diner appeared to be over, and there were several empty tables available. Veronica spotted a table by the window with plenty of room next to it for Gracie to relax while they had their lunch.

  “Sit anywhere you like,” a waitress said, passing by with a friendly smile. “Just gotta run this check and I’ll be right with you.”

  Making a beeline for the table by the window, Veronica slid into a booth, gesturing for Skylar to sit next to her.

  “I’m hungry enough to eat a horse,” Frankie said, as he and Hunter settled in across from them.

  He caught Skylar’s eye and winked.

  “But not Sunshine, of course. I’d never eat Sunshine.”

  Skylar rolled her eyes and laughed, already comfortable around Frankie, and Veronica couldn’t help but join in.

  She was glad to see a happy smile replace her sister’s usual pensive expression. She wondered if Skylar could finally start to heal.

  Now that Skylar’s met her grandfather, and seen her mother’s hometown, maybe she can find some closure and move on with her life.

  “Ya’ll ready to order?”

  The waitress stood by Veronica wearing an ill-fitting brown polyester uniform and a wide smile, seemingly unconcerned by Gracie’s presence beside their table.

  Veronica asked for the soup of the day and a large, iced tea. As she waited for the others to order, a man pushed through the front door and hovered by the counter. His eyes searched the room, stopping at their table.

  “Be right with you, Beau,” the waitress called out.

  Twisting his head toward the door, Frankie peered past the thin frame of the waitress, staring at the man with blatant interest, taking in his thick blonde hair and broad shoulders.

  After she’d confirmed their order, the waitress crossed to the front. Veronica saw Hunter staring after her, his body tense.

  “Sorry about the wait, Beau,” the waitress said with a tired sigh. “I’ve been as busy as a one-armed paper hangar today.”

  “Ya’ll still short of staff around here?” the man asked, his deep voice carrying easily across the dining room to their table.

  “Oh yeah, I’ve been pulling double shifts ever since Darla went AWOL,” the waitress said with a good-natured laugh. “But I’ve also taken home double tips, so I guess I shouldn’t really complain.”

  She gestured toward an empty stool.

  “If you’re eating on your own there’s a spot at the counter.”

  Shaking his head, the man pointed to an empty table in the corner.

  “Curtis and Tom will be here any minute, so I’ll grab a table.”

  “Suit yourself,” the waitress said. “I’ll send the boys over when they get here.”

  Veronica waited until the man had walked past, then raised her eyebrows, waiting for an explanation from Hunter and Frankie.

  “That’s Beau Sparks,” Hunter murmured in a low voice, giving Skylar an uncomfortable glance. “I mentioned him to you before, remember?”

  “He’s Summer’s old boyfriend,” Frankie blurted, oblivious of Hunter’s attempt at discretion. “And we just found out he married Summer’s best friend after she went missing.”

  Noting the stricken look on Skylar’s face, Veronica took her hand and squeezed it, lifting her boot to kick Frankie under the table.

  Frankie didn’t seem to notice the kick. He was again looking toward the door, which had opened to reveal a slim man in dark jeans and a white flannel shirt.

  Pulling off a Kentucky Wildcats baseball cap, the man ran a hand through his spiky brown hair and crossed to the corner table.

  “That’s Beau’s business partner, Curtis Webb,” Hunter said, his eyes now alert with interest. “Charlie and I met him over at their charter company.”

  The door hadn’t quite closed when a tall, gangly man pushed through, trudging in after Curtis. Veronica felt a spark of recognition.

  “And that’s Tom Locke,” Hunter added, before Veronica could ask. “We saw him over at the charter company, too. Only at that point I didn’t know who he was.”

  “That’s the man in Harriet’s photo,” Skylar said, her green eyes wide. “In the frame by her bed.”

  Veronica nodded at her sister’s words, suddenly realizing where she’d seen Tom befo
re. She surreptitiously studied his long, unkept hair, nervous eyes, and slumped shoulders, thinking the man wasn’t what she’d expected.

  He doesn’t look anything like Donovan Locke. But then, why should he? They hadn’t been related by blood.

  Glancing over her shoulder to the table in the corner, Veronica saw Beau Sparks staring in their direction. He dropped his eyes when he realized Veronica was watching him, but not before she saw the stricken look on his handsome face. She felt a surge of sympathy.

  Seeing Skylar must be like seeing a ghost from the past. It can’t be easy.

  The handsome man had been Summer’s boyfriend, and her sudden disappearance would surely have been traumatic.

  How horrible to never know what had happened to your girlfriend all these years. It must have been unbearable for Beau.

  Veronica’s pity was overshadowed by the familiar pang of guilt that usually followed thoughts of her father’s victims and the loved ones they’d left behind.

  Locke hurt so many people. And part of him lives on in me, and in Skylar, whether we like it or not. His legacy lives on as long as we do.

  The disturbing thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of a big man in a tan Sheriff’s uniform and wide brimmed hat. Taking off his jacket, the man dripped rainwater on the floor and stomped his big boots on the mat by the door.

  Waving a greeting at the waitress, he slid his sturdy body onto an empty stool at the counter just as Frankie turned to Hunter.

  “Look who the cat dragged in,” he said, clearly unimpressed. “I’m gonna go over there and-”

  “This isn’t the time or place,” Hunter protested, putting a restraining hand on Frankie’s arm. “We need to eat and get Skylar and Veronica back to the airport. Then we can talk to Sheriff Holt.”

  The crackling of a police radio drew Veronica’s eyes back to the lunch counter. She watched the sheriff slip a handheld radio out of his belt just as a dispatcher’s high-pitched voice filled the little diner.

  “Unit one we’ve got a Code 3 on a possible 10-54 south of your location at 201 Fullerton. Deputies are in route now and requesting back-up.”