Love and Death in Blue Lake

by Cynthia Harrison

  Loving Bob like a normal girl had been her only goal, well, besides the big one, the confession. Poor Bob. She was goofed up about intimacy, had confused love with sex. Okay, be cool, she told herself. Bob knows you love him. Just not like that. Not like she loved Dean, even. But then, that was hopeless too. Two crazies do not make a sane.

  Chapter Eight

  Courtney came around to see Lily as soon as Ruby fell asleep. Her mom was there in case Ruby woke, but Courtney was pretty sure she’d sleep through the night. Lily might need her. She didn’t know Eva well, but everyone knew the Brymans. She knocked on the big glass door so like her own. A blur that turned out to be Lily answered and almost dragged Courtney inside the house.

  “Is Ruby okay?”

  “Are you okay?”

  They spoke at the same time.

  “I’m feel like I’m under house arrest.”

  “You saved my baby! You should be given a medal!”

  Eva led them into the living room, murmured something about tea, and left them alone. Courtney sat next to Lily on the mile long sofa and put her arm around the girl. Lily’s entire body hummed with tension under Courtney’s arm. “Did you have another flashback when you saw him on Ruby?”

  Lily nodded. “And just a little while ago…I didn’t tell the cops about my plan. They’re going to find out, and they’ll arrest me, and I’ll go to jail, and my dad will be in court laughing at me when they lock me up and throw away the key!”

  Lily was nearing hysteria by the end of the sentence. “Breathe, Lily. It’s the PTSD. Let’s do the eye exercise. I’m going to talk while you close your eyes.”

  Lily’s eyes fluttered. She was trying. Good enough. Courtney continued talking. The actual M.D. would be here soon with the prescription. Eva had made that call right after she’d talked to Courtney about what to do. “This is the PTSD. You’ve had it before, and this is another episode. Nobody is going to arrest you for anything. You saved my daughter’s life today. Thank you.”

  “But, you’re, but you just, I’m so selfish! You just lost a baby! Your daughter was almost raped by a beast. He killed my mother. I told you he did! See?”

  “Lily, your eyes. Close your lids and listen to me. PTSD. I know your story. I know about the plan. You told me all about it. It’s not a crime to think about ways to make someone own up to their atrocious actions.” Lily’s eyes stayed closed. “Good. Good. Now just roll your eyeballs up into the top of your head. Okay. Keep your lids closed. Yep, you’re doing great. You’re not selfish. You’re not going to get into trouble. You have PTSD. You’ve had it before. You got through it. You’ll get through it this time too.”

  Lily opened her eyes. Her breathing was easier. Courtney felt a wash of relief. It was good to help other people. It made her feel good not to focus on herself. She knew she needed to mourn for her baby, and she needed to be strong for Ruby. But right now, this felt like where she should be and what she should be doing.

  “That’s what Dean thinks too.”

  “Dean?”

  Lily spilled the story out, the sparks, the confusion, the ping-pong emotions, Dean and Bob.

  Courtney listened. She owed this young woman her daughter’s life. The so-called victim had a switchblade, a lethal weapon, less than an inch from her daughter’s carotid artery. Not to mention strong hands that could smother or strangle. Not to mention rape. If he had killed Lily’s mother, and Courtney thought this a true possibility now, there was no telling what he would have been capable of. From rape to murder was an escalation that changed the picture. She explained this in a few simple words, leaving the scariest parts out, to Lily.

  Eva came in to the front room with tea things as the foyer bell rang. She set down a silver tray with china cups. “Help yourself,” she said, then went to answer the door.

  Courtney noted the black bag of a medical man before she looked up to a young face and sincere smile. Eva made introductions and then left for another teacup although nobody had touched the pot. Courtney explained the situation to Dr. Bell, filling in blanks when he asked a question. Lily was silent at her side, leaning into her. She kept her arm around Lily. Eva came in and poured tea all around, then picked up her own cup and said “I’ll leave you to your session. I’ll be in the morning room if you need me, Lily.”

  Then she left the room.

  “Thanks, Eva,” Lily said.

  Courtney thought she may as well dive in with the good doctor.

  “I am a licensed cognitive therapist in California, but here I’m just setting up a practice and am informally seeing Lily until I can decide how to hang my shingle.”

  “Okay, welcome. We need someone like you here. I need someone like you.” He smiled again and Courtney felt relief. No California kook jokes. Not that she’d expect that of an M.D.

  “So would you advise Xanax for the PTSD?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Courtney said, wanting one of those little blue pills herself. Just a reflex. She let it go. “It should help her sleep, too.”

  Dr. Bell called in another prescription and asked it to be delivered to the Bryman residence. They all sipped tea and nibbled cookies.

  “He was a monster.” They were the first words Lily spoke since Dr. Bell heard her story.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, rising and gripping his bag. “You’re in good hands here.” He first addressed Lily, then turned to Courtney. “Please let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.”

  Since Courtney did not have the necessary credentials to prescribe medication, she often worked in consult with medical doctors and psychiatrists, who did. Dr. Bell was a lifeline for her and Lily both.

  After the doctor left, Lily said, “Dean is more like a father to me than my own dad ever was.”

  “Do you remember a time when your father was loving toward you?”

  “Yeah. Before I got breasts. After that, he ignored me.”

  “It’s not uncommon for men of his generation to be uncomfortable with a daughter’s sexuality.”

  “Oh, so you’re going to defend him?”

  “I’m wondering if you’ll be able to repair the relationship after this second rape attempt comes to light.”

  Lily laughed, a bitter sound. “I doubt it.”

  The bell rang again. Busy house. Eva came into the room with her wallet and paid for the prescription. She handed the bottle to Courtney. “Should I leave?”

  “No, it’s fine. Stay,” Lily said, reaching for the pill Courtney handed her. “I’m used to these episodes. I had them in college. I know the signs.”

  And so did Courtney, although she didn’t say anything. Her problems, and messy emotions, were on hold until she could help this young woman, and Ruby, through this nightmare. She had to be strong for the girls.

  “So you’re my shrink now, right? Like, officially?”

  “Yes, of course. My methods are a little different than the norm. For example”—here Courtney looked at Eva, who seemed to be a mother substitute for Lily—“most therapists would not take on a patient who had just saved her daughter’s life. Conflict of interest. But because I know Blue Lake, and Dr. Bell confirmed, there really is nobody else here to help, I want to do this.”

  Eva nodded. “It seems so odd that it be a conflict. It feels normal to me, to want to help, I mean.”

  Courtney nodded. “It’s an ethics thing, but I’m not under any type of oath here. I can write my own rules.”

  “We have a connection,” Lily said, grabbing Courtney’s hand. “I don’t care about rules either.”

  ****

  Dean drove straight through the six hours it took to arrive in Blue Lake from the southwest side of the state. He’d secured a spot on the park campgrounds even though it was high summer and the tourists were packed like ice in coolers. He pulled into town after dark, lit a lantern, and unhitched his little silver bullet of a trailer, angry with himself for not following up with Lily and her wild (or so they seemed at the time) accusations regarding her mothe
r. God, what a dumb ass he’d been. Because of her neuroticism, he’d underestimated her instincts.

  Her mental health issues had not stopped her from becoming a crack shot. No woman he knew held a revolver as steady, no trigger finger so sure as hers, no aim more accurate. Also, as he’d always damn well known, and she had now proven, that aim was deadly.

  He didn’t do much to set up camp, just unhitched, lugged out a ratty lawn chair and grabbed a beer for the ritual look-see. The beauty of his trailer—everything kept ready for a whim or a job. This was a bit of both. He’d established a connection with local law enforcement, but he wanted, was anxious for, was information on Lily’s state of mind. She had good friends here. On the drive up he’d spoken not only to the police chief but to Eva Bryman, whom Lily had always talked about with much admiration and love. Eva said it was silly to stay in a trailer. The park was so noisy at this time of year. She had invited him into her home and, when he refused, offered him and his rig prime real estate she owned adjacent to the park.

  Dean sipped from his beer bottle and craned his neck to scope the scene. A bonfire burned at the Bryman resort behind a stand of trees to the west. Waves of big water glittered in the moonlight to the north. Woods, dark and deep, stood to the south. Here and there, cottages plunked down close to the road, amid pines and scrub. The tents in the park were dark, all was quiet with the exception of teenaged murmurs emitting from a haze of marijuana smoke out by the bluff overlooking Lake Huron.

  Dean finished his beer and got to his feet, snapping his chair closed and stowing it in the trailer. It was almost ten o’clock, but Eva had insisted he come by whenever he got in; Lily was anxious to see him. Dean didn’t want to admit it, but he was curious about Bob Bryman. Lily had talked about the boy she loved and how she was going to win him back after college. Lily had no idea how easy it was for her to win a man’s heart. Bob had likely held a torch for her the entire time they were apart.

  Dean, disgusted by his stab of envy toward the younger man, got in his SUV and punched the address Eva had given him into his navigation system. Then he followed the blue line and the annoying voice to Lily’s posh digs. He hadn’t thought he’d ever see her again, and while this had pained him at the time, it was also a relief. In the years he’d known her, he’d come to care about her more than he should, given her vulnerable state, her adventures in bisexuality and promiscuity, and the large gap in their ages. He couldn’t quite be her father, unless he’d been a teenaged dad. Biologically, he could be her father. Just not in line with his feelings, buried deep but still available in dreams and occasionally, like now, when his protective side flared.

  He had been on a job out of the country at Christmas when Lily had needed him. And though they spoke on the phone, he had not been there for her. Off on a silly mission for a millionaire. Hell, it paid the bills.

  ****

  Bob made sure he was the one to answer the door when Dean O’Malley knocked. Dean looked about his brother Daniel’s age. They were alone as Bob ushered Dean inside with an exaggerated hand sweep he regretted as soon as it had been executed. Lily was sleeping, Daniel on the phone with the lawyers, Eva shopping online for things she thought Lily needed delivered overnight. So Lily’s “friend,” the guy “like a dad” to her, was not so old. Not so young either, but he had a full head of thick dark blond hair, deep lines at the corners of his eyes and biceps the size of hams.

  The men eyed each other. Bob struggled to believe that though Dean might be older and experienced with firearms and protecting vulnerable people like Lily, he was no threat to their love.

  The two shook hands, exchanged names. Dean’s calloused grip was firm but not aggressive.

  “Lily’s sleeping. I’m on orders to wake her the moment you arrive.” Bob motioned, more discreetly this time, for Dean to take a seat in the gigantic living room full of ornate oversized furniture. Not Bob’s taste. He needed to get his own place. But he wouldn’t leave without Lily.

  “No need just yet. I’d like to ask you a few questions first, if you don’t mind.”

  Bob couldn’t imagine why this ex-cop, who hired himself out as a bodyguard and gave shooting lessons to college girls, thought he could do anything for Lily.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Nope.” Dean didn’t sit. He paced, his long legs encased in ancient jeans. Looked like the guy had found his piece of carpet and meant to wear it out. Well, okay. Bob got himself a beer and returned, sitting on the sofa.

  “Shoot.” Bob immediately felt a blush rise. Poor choice of words. Dean didn’t seem to notice. He handed Bob his card. “Private Inquiry and Personal Protection” under his name, phone number under that. Three lines.

  “Did you find the mechanic?”

  “I did. He said he’d come in, make a statement, but he never showed.”

  “Did he tell you who paid him?”

  “No. He said he wanted to make a formal statement to the police.” Bob tamped down the defensiveness he felt building.

  “And?”

  Bob put down his beer and bit hard on a piece of skin hanging off the side of his thumb. He ripped it off. “Like I said. He never showed. Harlan, he’s our police chief, went looking for the guy, but he’s gone.”

  “I’ll find him,” Dean said. He didn’t ask to see Lily, just turned around and let himself out the door.

  Dread pooled in Bob’s stomach. He had lost Lily when he lost the mechanic. And here was the badass from the big city come to save the day. He called Eddie at the bar.

  ****

  “That Dean O’Malley fella’s in town. Says he’s gonna find the mechanic.”

  “Harlan will shit bricks over this.” Eddie, his old phone jammed between shoulder and jaw, pulled a beer with one hand and talked with the other.

  “I know where the mechanic lives,” Bob said. “He’s in the phone book.”

  “I’ll be right over.” Eddie served the beer and spoke to his manager. This was getting to be a habit. “Lock up if I’m not back at closing time. And remind me to give you a raise.” Charlene smiled. She was a damn fine bar manager. Not that he’d needed her or known she could handle things so well before a certain wife came back to town, necessitating all sorts of journeying from his favorite spot on earth. He gunned it over to the Bryman place.

  Bob jogged out of the house and slammed into the truck. Eddie still had it in gear. “Just so I know—we’re going after a guy to pin a murder on a dead man.”

  “For Lily.” Bob finished the sentence.

  Made total sense to Eddie. Bob had it bad for Lily, and Eddie knew something about that. He wanted Lily to get her confession too. If there was one to get. And if not from the dead man, from his mechanic. Also the idea of a flatlander coming in and solving Harlan’s case (even though Harlan didn’t think for one second that anybody killed Mrs. Van Slyke) didn’t sit well with Eddie.

  “You have to admit, it’s weird how he disappeared.”

  Eddie didn’t tell Bob that he didn’t think Harlan looked too hard for the guy. But yeah, he thought it was a little weird. If the guy had nothing to hide, why run? He must have done the deed for the dead kid and so was technically a hit man.

  When they’d paid him a visit earlier, he’d claimed no knowledge of any car tampering until Eddie said (lied, rather) that Harlan was having the vehicle impounded and it would be tested by state-of-the-art crime scene technology for any sort of fancy tampering. Bob had blurted out the evaporating water theory, and the mechanic had dropped his wrench.

  “I’ll come in, but I didn’t do anything,” he’d sworn. “Hell, there’s twenty guys from here to Blue Lake who work on Caddies.”

  “Yes, but only you work on Mrs. Van Slyke’s car.” Bob was like a dog with a stuffed toy. He was going to work this guy until he shredded him.

  “Yeah, and I inspected it after the accident. I got my own high tech methods, and I’m telling you, no foul play. Not even the thing the kid cooked up.” The mechanic di
rected his reply to Eddie, smirking at Bob before he picked up his greasy tool, composure regained.

  But that evaporating water trick was genius. The stuff of urban legend. It would work, sure, but Mrs. Van Slyke’s car had swerved and hit a utility pole on the opposite side of the road. How could the mechanic ensure that happened? Had to be a conspiracy of dummies. Well, they’d almost gotten away with it. Almost.

  “I talked to Lily today about that thing at the crossroads, where Mrs. Van Slyke swerved and ended up on the wrong side of the road.”

  “And?”

  “Turn here. Okay, third house down. Top floor. Stairs around back.” They parked in front of the mechanic’s house. Too many cars and trucks on this street to know if one was his or not. “So, Mrs. Van Slyke had a hair appointment every Tuesday at 11 a.m. for twenty-five years. The cousin would know this. He could have set something up.”

  “I hate to say it, but it sounds far-fetched. Bet the guy will be home. Drunk. Forgot to visit the police. Missed Harlan’s call.”

  They went up the back steps. The door was locked. Eddie knocked. No answer. He pulled out a credit card and popped the cheap lock. Why bother?

  The place was a tip. Stacked empty pizza boxes left a smell that permeated the premises. A trash bin full of beer cans sat next to the fridge. A plastic garbage bag full of paper plates was kicked to the side of the sink. The other rooms were equally uncompelling. From the piles of dirty laundry in the bedroom, it didn’t look like the mechanic had packed for any vacation.

  “You realize Harlan doesn’t think the cousin killed Lily. He’s not interested in this mechanic.”

  “But Dean seems to think Lily may be right and so does Dr. Fass, er, Courtney.”

  Bob stopped by a plastic table next to a cheap leather-like chair. That and the huge television hung on the wall made up the bulk of the living room. “Look at this.”

  Eddie took the pad of paper with the garage’s logo on top from Bob. “A street name.” Bob was already looking at his phone, punching keys and swiping the screen the way kids did these days. “It looks like there’s nothing there. A hundred acres of hunting land.”