The Secrets of Lake Road

“I have a few guesses, but I can’t build a case on conjecture.”


“Right.” She didn’t like what he was telling her, where this was going. “So what happens if no one opens up?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her tone.

“Then we’re back where we started more or less.”

“So you’re saying that finding my brother’s bones only raises more questions about what happened to him.”

“Yes and no. It’s more information than we had previously.” He hesitated. “Listen,” he said. “Just be patient a little longer. Let me do my job. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that sooner or later the truth has a way of surfacing.”

There was a ruckus on one of the fishing boats. Both Dee Dee and the sheriff turned to the sound.

“Nothing.” Stimpy’s voice carried across the water.

“What a goddamn mess,” the sheriff said.

“Yes, it is.” She checked her phone. “I have to get to work. Is there anything else?”

“That’s all for now.” The sheriff tipped his hat again and turned to walk away.

She started picking up the rest of the cans from the floor and stopped. “You’ll let me know as soon as you hear anything,” she called.

“You’ll be the first.”

Most people at the lake thought she was paranoid, delusional. A drunk. She never believed the sheriff was one of them. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

He paused and looked back at her. “Do you think there will ever be a day when you call me Dave?”

She couldn’t see his eyes under the shade of the hat, but she felt his stare through to her insides. She shook her head. “I doubt it.”

*

After grabbing the keys from the cabin, Dee Dee got in the car and started the engine. If she didn’t get moving, she was going to be late for work. She punched the steering wheel with her palm. What the hell happened to you, Billy? She threw the car in reverse and backed out of the parking space, catching sight of the sheriff’s broad shoulders and lean stature. He was standing on the docks next to Heil waiting for the fishermen to come in off the water.

Dave. She quickly pushed the thought away. There was no point in daydreaming. It only led to disappointment when reality set in. And yet she couldn’t help but think maybe, just maybe, the day would come when she would learn the truth about her brother, a day when she would be able to let go of all the anger she carried.

But until that day the sheriff would be the sheriff. And that was all that he would be.





CHAPTER NINETEEN

Jo slipped past the kitchen door and skirted through the living room, making as little noise as possible. She hoped to escape without bumping into anyone. She woke with a nagging feeling, and it had to do with Patricia, Sara’s mother. She sensed it last night while talking with her on the beach. The feeling, or thought, of a memory was there, it was close, but still too far to grasp.

She paused outside the entranceway to the screened-in porch, brushed her hair with her fingers, thinking the back door was the quickest exit to get away, just away, without getting caught. She took two steps into the room and stopped next to a wicker rocking chair.

Gram was sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by boxes and odds and ends. Her white hair was messy from sleep. She was wearing her cleaning clothes, an old sweatshirt and jeans, the kind with an elastic waistband. There was a faraway look on her face. She didn’t notice Jo standing nearby. Jo took a cautious step backward and turned to leave when Gram caught sight of her.

“Oh, good, you’re up,” Gram said. “I don’t suppose you could stick around for a minute.”

Jo closed her eyes before turning around and forcing a smile. “No, sorry. I’m on my way out.” She was about to leave when Gram slumped forward, not a lot, but enough to cause concern. She maneuvered around an old lamp, a stack of books, and crouched on the floor next to her. “Are you okay?” She touched Gram’s forearm. Her skin was cool.

“I’m a little tired today. That’s all.”

“Are you sure?” Close up, Gram looked pale.

“I’m fine.” She waved her off. “It’s just a lot of stuff to go through.” Gram looked down at the photo album opened in her lap to a picture of Pop when he was a much younger man. The picture was in black-and-white. He was in a sailor’s suit and sporting a crew cut, serving in the Navy at the tail end of the Vietnam War. Gram and Pop had married right out of high school before he had enlisted. She ran her finger over the old photograph. A sad smile crossed her lips.

“Pop was handsome,” Jo said.

“He was dashing in his uniform,” Gram said. “I remember seeing him in it for the first time.” She brought her hand to her chest. “I was so proud and scared for him. That damned war.”

Jo gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “But he never saw any action. He didn’t have to fight. The war was ending.”