“What can I do?” she said.
“I need to know if there’s a place at the lake that has some special significance for Thomas. Some place private and secluded that he knows very well.”
“There is, yes. Is that where he is now?”
“It may be. I’m not sure. But I have reason to believe that I can find him there. How do I get to it?”
“It’s on the north shore,” she said.
“In Canada?”
“Excuse me?”
“The north shore of Lake Erie is in Canada, right?”
“Oh,” she said, and he heard the disappointment in her voice. “Then no, I’m sorry. I don’t know of any place along Lake Erie that was special to him. I mean, the kids loved the beaches; they usually went to Beach 7. But there’s nothing private or secluded about it.”
“I’m confused,” DeMarco told her. “What lake are you talking about?”
“Lake Wilhelm. Where we all went camping every summer.”
“Of course,” he said. “I should have thought of that first. This camping place is private?”
“Very private. In fact, each time we went there, he insisted we follow a slightly different path to the campsite. So we didn’t leave a permanent trail.”
“I need to know how to get there, Rosemary.”
“The easiest way is to go north on 19.”
“How far north?”
“About halfway between Sheakleyville and Black Run.”
“Okay, that’s good. But here’s the thing, Rosemary. GPS is useless for this. Can you give me landmarks? Tell me exactly where to make my turns?”
“Let me think for a minute,” she said.
He waited.
She said, “Just after 19 crosses over the headwaters, you’ll see an old logging road going off to the right. It starts off parallel to Black Run, but then it heads south again. It ends in a clearing maybe a hundred or so yards from Schofield Run. Kids have parties there, so you’ll see lots of litter and old campfires and such.”
“You’re doing fine. Just keep going.” As he talked he crossed toward the back door. His car was gone but he knew that Inman had not arrived at his house by taxi. Bonnie’s car, maybe with an unsuspecting Bonnie still waiting patiently inside, was parked somewhere nearby, probably within a couple blocks of DeMarco’s garage.
Rosemary O’Patchen told him, “You can’t see Schofield Run from the clearing but if you stand very quietly you can hear it. Just make your way to it as best you can. There’s no path to speak of but it’s mostly red pines, so the brush isn’t heavy. Then just follow the run downstream to where it feeds into Lake Wilhelm, a couple tenths of a mile maybe. Then you have to cross over the run—it’s only a few feet wide and a foot or so deep—and pick your way along the lakeshore another fifty yards or so. That’s where the campsite is.”
DeMarco was standing behind his barn now, squinting through the darkness as he surveyed Lawson Street in one direction and then the other. He told Rosemary, “That sounds like a difficult place to get to,” and thought, Especially frog-marching Inman and carrying two cement blocks.
“That’s why Thomas liked it so much. He wouldn’t allow so much as an MP3 player along on those campouts. He took one cell phone just for emergencies, but otherwise it was family only. No outside world allowed.”
“And there’s no easier way to get to it?” A dark shape that was either a vehicle or a couple of garbage bins was visible a block and a half to his right. DeMarco started toward it.
“None,” she said. “But if he’s hiding somewhere near the lake, that will be the place.”
“Thank you,” he told her. “I’m sorry to have wakened you like this.”
“You won’t hurt him, will you?” she said.
“Never.”
“Please promise me that you won’t let him be hurt.”
“I swear to God,” he said. Then, “He didn’t do it, Rosemary. You can tell your husband that for me. Thomas would never harm his family in any way. I know that now.”
“Oh God,” she said and started to sob. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
And now he recognized the distinctive shape of the Mustang’s backend, the taillights and spoiler. Bonnie’s car. “I’m sorry, Rosemary, I have to go now,” he said. And he shut off his phone.
Sixty-One
DeMarco held the handgun against his leg as he approached the Mustang. There were no streetlamps along Lawson and all the houses were still dark. He doubted that Bonnie would draw a gun on him, but on the other hand, he would not have believed she would participate in a multiple homicide. He told himself that love makes fools of us all and moved quickly from one front lawn to the next, staying far enough to the right that he could not be seen in the Mustang’s side mirror.