The Dead of Summer

by Heather Balog

  I halted in my tracks when the phone buzzed again. Hurry ^, I nEd a pedi! I sighed. Did she think about anything other than herself?

  I needed to go see Lindy, to stop the texts at least. Can’t have her totally ticked off at you, Kennedy. It was one thing to poke the bear with a stick a little bit. It was another to smash her over the head with a tree branch while rolling in peanut butter. I headed down the trail, my heart racing and my palms sweating. How was I gonna keep this little fact about the dead body a secret from Lindy of all people?

  If Lindy got wind there’s a mysterious dead body in the basement and you don’t tell her, well, the prom scene in Carrie will look like a kindergartener’s birthday party after she gets done eviscerating you.

  I was torn as I stood in the middle of the trail, halfway between my house of horrors and Lindy’s. It was early and the trail was silent. I couldn’t believe that I had been out here only a few hours earlier with Carson, before my life started to completely unravel.

  Carson! I had completely forgotten about him, as ludicrous as that was. I had left him when I went into the house. Did he race home to tell his daddy about the body in the basement? Or would he keep his promise to not say anything?

  My phone started ringing in my hand, scaring the crap out of me. I glanced down, expecting it to be Lindy, demanding I show my face, but instead, I saw it was my mama calling.

  “Damn it,” I mumbled as I stared at the phone. I didn’t want to answer it. Would she demand I come home? Or would she come up with another excuse for the dead body?

  Ignoring the call, I shoved the phone back into my pocket. I leaned down to tie my tennis shoe which had come unraveled. When I stood, I found myself face to face with none other than the delectable Carson. And Colt, who was thumping his tail against the ground.

  “Oh!” I yelped, clutching my chest. “I didn’t expect to see you there! What are you doing?”

  “The question should be, what are you doing? I’ve been chasing after you for a half a mile now.”

  “Chasing after me?” I was confused.

  “Yeah, remember? You left me in your backyard?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know that you were still there,” I apologized.

  “Well of course I was,” he said. “We still haven’t found out who the body belongs to.” He lowered his voice after the word “body”.

  “I didn’t know we were going to—” I stammered.

  “Well, of course,” Carson cut me off. “How else would we know who killed him and why?”

  “Well, I’m not sure I want to find that out,” I said. “I kind of just want the body out of the basement.”

  We were close enough to Lindy’s house that I could see her room. It actually had a window seat, a wonderful glorious bench with comfortable cushions, which butted up to that huge bay window with a view of the peaceful gardens below. What I would have given to have such a treat in my own room—I would spend hours a day with my books stacked next to me, sipping sweet tea and drinking in the beauty of my environment. But did Lindy appreciate that window seat? No way. She tossed her clothes on it and never sat there. The window was always closed and the curtain drawn tight. Although, as I glanced up just then, could have sworn I saw the curtain move.

  Lindy.

  Carson saw it at the same time as I did. “Let’s get away from here before she sees us and wants to come with us.”

  “Yeah, who needs her tagging along?” I agreed. It was bad enough Carson was involved.

  We headed back down the trail in the direction I had come from, the trees shading us from the already oppressive heat. It was probably gonna be the hottest day of the summer. We didn’t even talk—it seemed like it would use up too much energy. Instead, I obsessed over the body in the basement.

  I wonder how long it takes a body to decompose in this heat? We really need to get to the bottom of this soon. . .before I end up on the crazy train with Mama, running away from Novella.

  In a few minutes, my backyard came back into view and we stopped at the same time. Colt galloped toward the gate (probably eager to sniff the stiff), and Carson called him back with a sharp whistle.

  I stared at the house, wondering if Mrs. Harris was still inside or if Mama had shooed her away.

  “Now what do we do?” I asked, shielding my eyes from the blazing sun.

  “Well, now we need to check online to see if anyone fitting his description has been reported missing in the last few days,” Carson informed me as he pulled Colt’s leash out of his back pocket and snapped it on. “It could be the repairman, like you said.”

  “How are we gonna do that?” I asked, staring at the back of my house like it was a scene from a horror movie. I wasn’t sure I voluntarily wanted to go inside again.

  “It might have been in the paper. Can we use the Internet at your house to check out the police blotter?” Carson asked.

  I shook my head vehemently. I definitely didn’t want to go home and face Mama, with or without Carson.

  “How about your house? I’m sure your daddy doesn’t hang all over you like Mama does to me.”

  Carson shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to use an ex-cop’s computer to track a murdered person.”

  “Well, we don’t know he was murdered,” I point out, my defensive feathers ruffled. Of course, I knew deep down I was wrong. This reeked of murder.

  My phone buzzed and I sighed as I dug it out of my pocket for the bazillionth time, expecting it to be Mama calling me again. This time, it was Lindy. It was a text, with a picture. I squinted to see the picture, but the glare from the sun made it impossible. I cupped my hand around the phone and enlarged the screen shot. I gasped as I saw what Lindy had sent me. It was the racy novel I had been reading, along with the scrap of paper I had tucked inside. The text said, I bet you don’t want Carson to see THIS. She actually used proper English this time.

  “What’s the matter?” Carson asked, craning his neck to see over my shoulder.

  “Nothing!” I yelped and shoved the phone back in my pocket. My best friend might have been trying to blackmail me, but she had just given me a very good idea. “Come on,” I said, grabbing Carson’s arm.

  “Where are we going?” he asked, trailing behind me, Colt excitedly trotting ahead of us.

  “The library!” I exclaimed.

  FIFTEEN

  Carson cocked his head to the side as we stood in front of the library. “Kind of tiny, ain’t it?”

  I nodded. “Pathetic, actually. But it has Internet access and that’s all that matters right now.”

  On the brief walk over, I had explained that we could use the library Internet.

  “Won’t the librarian be suspicious?” Carson had wondered.

  “Marnie’s cool. She never gets in my business. And if she asks, we can tell her that we’re doing a project for school or something…”

  “Didn’t school get out weeks ago?”

  I smiled. “It did. But there’s summer school now for kids who failed a class.” I poked him in the chest teasingly. “And I think that you might have failed a class or two.”

  Carson puffed out his chest. “Why do I have to be the one who failed a class?” he pouted.

  “Because,” I replied with a grin. “Marnie would never buy the story that I was in summer school. She thinks I’m a genius,” I stared down at my sneakers, embarrassed all of a sudden. I was far from a genius, but I didn’t want Carson to know that. I wasn’t sure if he was the type of guy who liked smart girls or preferred them a little dumb. “She doesn’t know you, however,” I continued.

  With drooping shoulders, Carson pretended to sulk as he followed me. “What about Colt?” Carson asked. “He can’t go into the library.”

  “Oh, Marnie won’t mind,” I assured him.

  “What about the other people in the library? The other customers or whatever? Won’t they get annoyed there’s a dog in the library? Even though he is a well behaved dog.”

  I spun arou
nd and faced Carson with my hands on my hips. I certainly was channeling my inner Lindy today. Maybe this was why she was so successful with all the boys. “Carson, you’re looking at the only other customer in the library.”

  He wrinkled up his nose. “Really? Nobody uses the library around here?” He was apparently as surprised as I had been to discover this little tidbit.

  I shrugged as I continued to walk toward the building at the end of the town square. “There’s a limited selection, I guess. And people get their books on their Kindles and their Nooks and don’t much go to the library. Plus, a new big bookstore opened in the next town, so a lot of people go there. I don’t though. I don’t have all that extra money for books, so I get them for free.”

  “Oh,” Carson replied and then shut up. I guess there wasn’t much else to say to that. “Come on, Colt.”

  The dog bobbed along happily next to his master, almost like he understood that he was going to be visiting a place that was usually off limits for his kind.

  We reached the steps of the library and Carson raced up to hold the door for me. “After you, my lady,” he said with a bow. I chuckled as he added, “And you, my four legged, smelly friend—you better not fart in the library or we will never be allowed in there again.”

  “Well, hello there,” Marnie exclaimed brightly as the three of us wandered over to her desk. She raised her unibrow at me. “And who do we have here?”

  “Marnie, this Carson. He just moved to Novella and unfortunately, he’s stuck in summer school because of the move.” I tried to stifle a laugh. I could see Carson scrunching up his lips in displeasure next to me. “He has a project to do. And this”—I reached down and patted our companion on the head—“is his dog Colt. I told him you wouldn’t mind if Colt joined us.”

  “Oh, of course not,” Marnie replied airily as she attempted to discreetly give me the thumbs up sign under the desk. She nearly fell off of her rolling chair in the process. Marnie could be quite absentminded and accident prone. One time I saw her fall off the ladder while she was climbing the stacks because she reached for a dust bunny that had floated through the air.

  “Thanks, Marnie!” I pointed to the small table in the farthest corner of the library. On top of it were two ancient desktop computers. They were slow as molasses because I think they were older than I was, but they would have to do. And since nobody else would come in to use them for the rest of the afternoon, we would be able to use both of them.

  I settled down in the not-so-comfy wooden chair at the table while Carson spoke to Colt about behaving, not chewing books, and no barking in the library because it was a place of learning. Colt stared at him with his sincere brown eyes, appearing as if he was drinking in every word his master uttered. Even though it made absolutely no sense, I smiled in spite of myself—they were just so damn cute. I wanted to kiss both of them. Colt in a completely platonic way, of course. Carson. . .not so platonic.

  “So where do you suppose we start?” I asked as Carson plunked down on the other chair and scooted closer to me. Colt plopped onto the floor, laying his head on his paws and immediately closing his eyes.

  After scratching his head for a moment, Carson replied, “Well, the best place would be the local newspaper. They do have that online, right?”

  I nodded. Mama religiously read the local Novella News every day. That was the only way she would know what the hell was going on in the town. There wasn’t much in it, considering nothing much ever happened in Novella. It was full of fluff stories about sweet-sixteen parties and engagements and fat men who managed to eat the ninety-six ounce steak at Warren’s, a steakhouse in town. It was the only restaurant in town besides the diner, so it served everything from steaks to sushi. Not that I would recommend the sushi. Lindy had it once and had diarrhea for a week. But rest assured, we were getting a T.G.I. Friday’s soon. They were building next to that huge Walmart.

  “You check that newspaper out and I’ll look at the paper in the next town,” Carson said.

  “That would be the Tennville Times,” I informed him. “And the town on the other side has the Readington Reader.”

  “Jesus Christ, does everything have to be alliteration around here?” Carson muttered as his fingers clicked away at the keys.

  I smiled down at my keyboard. I had always thought the same thing. Sometimes I felt like I was smack dab in the middle of the most unoriginal place on the planet.

  “Wow, these things are slow,” Carson observed while squinting at the screen.

  I bobbed my head. “They sure are. But the privacy is worth it.” I jerked my head toward Marnie whose mop of hair was covering her face. She was completely absorbed in a book. “She’s reading and in a whole ‘nother world right now. The only sound she’ll respond to is the chimes attached to the front door.”

  Just then, I felt my phone vibrating violently in my pocket. I just knew it was Lindy, but I pulled it out to look at anyway. Sure enough, the text icon was flashing with a minuscule thumbnail picture next to the text. I squinted at the screen, but I still couldn’t make out the picture. Great. Another picture. My curiosity getting the best of me, I tapped the screen. There was a picture of me and Carson, walking away from Lindy’s house. The text next to it said, I guess you’ve forgotten about me and don’t want to be friends?

  Just as I finished reading that, another picture flashed across the screen. It was Samantha, sitting alone at the loser table next to the words, Sam c%d uz co. @ lch NXT yr. She was taunting me, clearly PO’d that I had chosen Carson over her today. I sighed loudly.

  “Are you okay?” Carson asked.

  “Um, yeah, I’m fine,” I said, torn. Do I continue my quest to find the dead man or do I abandon Carson and rush to Lindy’s side and attempt to soothe her bruised ego?

  I glanced at Carson, watching the computer so intently, waiting for it to boot up so he could help me. And then I knew the answer. Two weeks ago, I would have rushed to Lindy’s side; today, I was staying here.

  Screw Lindy…if I don’t get this mystery solved, anything she does won’t make a bit of difference in my life.

  “Was it Lindy?” Carson asked curiously as I shoved the phone back in my pocket.

  “Yeah, but it’s not important,” I told him, actually believing it for once.

  With Lindy and her threats out of my mind (which I was surprisingly calm about), soon the computers had actually booted up and we were browsing through the features pages and police blotters, looking for missing person’s reports or a picture of someone who matched the description of the man in my cellar. After about a half hour and one stiff neck later, I turned to Carson who was stretching out his fingers to relax them.

  “Any luck?” I asked. I was met with a frowning face and a shake of the head.

  “No repairmen reported missing.” Carson shook his head. “I’m thinking it probably wasn’t the repairman, though, anyway. You didn’t see the repair truck anywhere, did you?”

  I shook my head. He had a point. And Mama certainly wasn’t leaving the house to move a repair truck, I didn’t think.

  “Damn.” I leaned my chin on my knuckles. “He could be from anywhere, then. We’re going to have to scour the national news.”

  “That could take all afternoon,” Carson said.

  “It could, but we could get lucky right away, too.”

  Carson shrugged. “It’s worth a try I guess. But what if nobody reported him missing? It’s not impossible. He’s a grown man. I’m sure grown men disappear all the time. It might be weeks before someone notices he’s gone.”

  “He had on a wedding ring,” I said, suddenly recalling that detail. “His wife probably reported him missing the first night he didn’t come home.”

  “Maybe. But what if he was on a business trip or something and she doesn’t know he’s missing yet.”

  “True.” I chewed on the ragged end of my thumbnail. This might be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. “Well, let’s keep looking. I’ll look in t
he national news and you keep checking the local police blotters.”

  We sat in silence, the computers humming as they crawled through the newspapers. After a few minutes, I leaned over to glance at Carson’s screen. Our shoulders touched and the feeling of his warm skin touching my bare shoulder sent electrical impulses down my entire right side. I tried not to look at him; I knew my heart would start racing uncontrollably if I did.

  “Did you find anything new?” I asked

  “Not really. There’s two missing persons reports in Readington, one male, one female. But the male is an eighty-seven year old with Alzheimer’s driving a silver Corolla. I’m pretty sure that’s not our guy unless he had a fantastic plastic surgeon.”

  I gave him an appreciative laugh, then I noticed something on the computer. “Hey! What about this?” I leaned in toward him and my hand accidentally brushed the inner part of his thigh very close to…well, you know. My head jerked up, my expression, horror-stricken.

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” I yelped pulling my hand away.

  Carson grinned. “Trust me, it’s perfectly okay. No harm.”

  Mortified, I didn’t look at him as I pointed at the computer, trying my best not to touch him.

  “Look, there’s an article here about an abandoned car. It’s not a repair truck, but still could be something,” I said.

  “Really? How did I miss that?” Carson’s eyes scanned the article, his lips moving rapidly as he read to himself. I couldn’t help but stare at those lips, wanting desperately to touch them with my own mouth. I could practically taste his saltiness in my mouth, could practically feel the pressure of his lips on mine, I could—

  “Wow, that’s ironic,” Carson mumbled, snapping out of my erotic reverie.

  “Um, what’s that?” I asked, blushing as if he could somehow read my mind.

  Carson pointed to the screen. “They found this guy’s car last week, abandoned only a few blocks from here. There was no registration in the glove box or anything, so the police impounded it. They had to run the plates to see who owns it. The guy’s name is Mark Ryan. That’s just like your name! That’s really—”