The Secrets of Lake Road

The jukebox was between songs. The bells and whistles from the pinball machines were sounding off. Customers stood in line at the snack stand, and the doors to the beach were flung open. She spied Megan leaning against the railing that led down to the beach, laughing at whatever Jeff, her boyfriend, was saying.

There was an air of excitement about the place, the vacationers getting swept away by the undercurrent of doing something maybe they shouldn’t be doing in the midst of an ongoing search. But wasn’t that part of the lure, to do the thing you shouldn’t? Outside in the open lot, more and more tents were constructed. Brightly colored signs were posted with promises of tasty desserts and handmade crafts. The tragedy that had started the summer was dissipating. Life at the lake was returning to normal.

Caroline found she was unable to get swept away so easily, thinking about her dream and Sara. She turned her back on the crowd at the snack stand, the kids at the pinball machines, on Megan and Jeff. She wondered if she’d find M+J carved into the Pavilion steps or painted on a rock in the woods, which brought her to thinking about her mother and Billy and, ultimately, her brother, Johnny.

She wondered if Chris’s mom, Dee Dee, had the answers to the secrets her family was unwilling to share. Maybe it was time she asked her.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Kevin pretended to be asleep when Jo got out of bed and left the cabin. She would often take long walks in the morning whenever he was home for any length of time. He took these early morning walking excursions as a personal affront. He couldn’t help it. It was as though being with him, sharing a bed for more than one night, suffocated her.

Good, he thought. Go. He was glad to be alone. It gave him time to think. He had an uneasy feeling, or maybe it was more than that, something pushing him closer to the edge, ever since the sheriff had started asking questions. Even Caroline had asked him about Billy. He had been vague with his answers, sticking to the facts she had already confessed to knowing after reading an old Lake Reporter. Why Mrs. Nester had given his daughter those old newspapers baffled him. What was she looking to get out of it? And what in the hell were Jo and Johnny whispering about the night before?

He kicked the sheets off and ran his hand down his face. He felt as though he were on a collision course with the past, and everything he had worked so hard for was slipping away. He had done it all for the love of Jo. And he’d do it again if he had to. He wasn’t going to lie here and take it.

The cabin was empty except for Johnny snoring in the back bedroom. Damn kid could sleep the day away. Kevin decided to head down to the lake for the latest news. He wasn’t two steps out the door when he spotted the young woman Patricia stumbling down the dirt road. Her hair was tied in messy braids underneath a big crazy sun hat. Her blouse and flowing skirt looked slept in. Her sandals slapped the bottoms of her feet as she wove her way down the hill. If Kevin didn’t know better, he’d think she was drunk.

She didn’t notice him. How could she with her back to him and her head down? He had heard who she was from a couple of the fishermen the last time he was in the bar. Patricia was little Pattie Dugan, daughter of Bob and Jean, the couple who had come to the lake every summer for years and then one year had packed up and left, never to return. He had stopped listening to the gossip after that. It didn’t matter why the Dugans had stopped coming. He was more interested in what made Patricia, Pattie, come back.

He started following her, lagging far enough behind so she wouldn’t hear him—or if she did, she wouldn’t be alarmed. It was the road everyone in the colony took to the lake unless they took the path that cut through the woods, but which most adults avoided for practical reasons, bugs, poison ivy, or Cougar, Stimpy’s noisy, pathetic dog.

The sun was high in the sky, promising another hot day. He reached into his pocket for the pack of smokes. He paused briefly to light up. The Pavilion was open for business, and it was bustling. The parking lot was full of lake locals and their tents. Everyone was preparing for the Trout Festival. Heil was a man who got his way more often than not. He was a man who got things done, and nothing was going to stop this festival from taking place. It was one of the biggest money-makers of the season. People from all around the Poconos area, from all different vacation sites, flocked to the lake for a day of fishing, food, and crafts. The locals made a killing.