The Secrets of Lake Road

“What are you talking about?”


“We can do this on our own. I can draw up the papers. I promise, I’ll be fair.”

“Papers?” My God, he was talking about their divorce. Her body stiffened. How could he bring up their divorce at a time like this? Her teeth rattled with rage. “Get out,” she said.

“What?” He cocked his head. “Where do you want me to go?”

“Get out!” she shouted.

“Calm down. There’s no need to shout,” he said, trying to placate her. “Somebody will hear you.”

“I don’t care. Just get out.” She pushed him in the chest. “Now.” She screamed.

“Be reasonable. I drove all this way.”

“Get out.” She continued pushing him, slapping him in the arms, shrieking. “Get out. Get out. Get out.” She hollered until she pushed him outside. The screen door banged shut between them. He stood on the other side, staring in at her.

“We’re not done talking about this,” he said.

She slammed the wood door in his face.

*

She returned to the living room and dropped into the wicker rocking chair. How could she have loved him? He was an awful human being. She cried into Dolly’s soft stuffing, but still she wouldn’t allow herself to unravel. Not now. She wouldn’t give Kyle the satisfaction.

What she needed was to talk with someone, someone who would listen, someone who would understand what she was going through. She could no longer do this by herself.





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Dee Dee drove straight to the sheriff’s office after receiving a message he wanted to see her. She was still in scrubs having worked a double shift. She had covered for one of the nurses who had called in sick. The extra shift had felt like it would never end. Her feet hurt in spite of the comfortable sneakers. Her skin was sticky and smelled like a mixture of stale air and antiseptic. But she wasn’t about to stop home for a shower. She pressed the accelerator. She couldn’t get to the sheriff’s office fast enough. She broke every speed limit, skidded into the parking lot, and burst through the door, surprised to find Heil stuffed into one of the metal chairs in front of the sheriff’s desk.

Heil stood as soon as she entered. “I’ll leave you two alone,” he said, and moved toward the door, but not without making eye contact with the sheriff first. “Dee Dee.” His fat stomach brushed against her arm on his way out.

“Frank,” she said. Neither one hid their apparent dislike for one another.

“Please, sit,” the sheriff said when they were alone.

“What was he doing here?”

“He wanted to know if he should be calling his lawyer,” the sheriff said.

“What did you tell him?”

“I’ve got a couple of witness statements saying they saw Billy drinking under the steps of the Pavilion bar. I told Heil to do what he thinks is in his best interest.”

“Does this mean you’re reopening the case?”

“Yes,” he said. “I got the final report this morning. The DNA is a match. The bones are Billy’s.”

Relief overwhelmed her and rendered her speechless. She hadn’t realized just how badly she needed it to be official until now, how much she had relied on the DNA results for validation. The bones were Billy’s, and one of them was fractured.

The sheriff continued. “After reading the original file and the new report from the medical examiner, something about his injuries doesn’t add up. Your brother fractured his skull here.” He touched the left side of his head above his temple. “But he fractured his right arm. You would think if he fell on the pier like we assumed, a flat surface with no obstructions, his injuries would be on the same side of his body, say his left arm and left side of the head. But that’s not the case. So the question is, how did he fracture his skull on one side and fracture his arm on the other?”

It didn’t make sense. But she was still too stunned, exhilarated, to respond. After all this time the very thing she had been hoping for was finally happening. She gripped the car keys so tight, the jagged edge dug into her palm.

“Now, I suppose it’s possible he fell twice, first hurting his arm and then hitting his head before falling into the water. But even that troubles me. The toxicology report confirmed there were traces of alcohol in his bloodstream. It’s hard to know the exact amount, since five days passed between the time of death and when his body was recovered. Minus the lower half of his right arm, of course, until now. But there’s not one statement in the file claiming your brother was drunk. Drinking, yes, but not falling down drunk. So what else could’ve happened that made him fall twice?”

She was nodding. Yes, she agreed with all of it. He didn’t have to sell it to her. She had known all along it didn’t make sense. Nothing about Billy’s drowning had ever made sense.

“There’s one other thing.” He was scowling.