The Secrets of Lake Road (21 page)

*   *   *

A light was turned on in one of the lakefront cabins across the way. She hadn’t realized she had been staring, and started counting the cabins closest to the docks. Sure enough, the seventh cabin was
Hawkes’,
the one with the lighted rooms.

On their first day here, she had every intention of knocking on the Hawkes’ door, the peach pie she never got around to baking in hand, and introducing Sara to a real family, a loving family. She had never forgotten Billy, of course, but she also had never forgotten his older sister, Dee Dee, who had babysat Patricia every summer when she had been a child. Patricia’s parents had spent most of their nights at the Pavilion bar or the Lake House, dining, drinking, dancing. But to the Hawke family, the lake was home, not some place to whoop it up every night. And Patricia loved this about them. She had felt safest in their care.

She wished she had stayed in touch with them through the years. She was only ten years old when she last saw them. Her parents had come home fighting after a late night of drinking. Dee Dee had been babysitting. Her father had stormed into the Hawkes’ cabin just before dawn.

“We’re leaving,” he had said, and grabbed Patricia’s small overnight bag. Her mother had scooped her into her arms. She had stared over her mother’s shoulder at Dee Dee standing in the middle of the family room, the money Patricia’s father had tossed fluttering to the floor at Dee Dee’s feet.

They had driven home that morning never to return. Patricia had never gotten to say good-bye.

Things with her parents had gone from bad to worse when her father had lost his job. It had been the last family vacation for the Dugans.

*   *   *

Tonight, sitting on the hood of some stranger’s car staring at
Hawkes’
cabin, her daughter still out there somewhere, she wondered how her plans could’ve gone so terribly wrong.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Jo pulled the old Chevy into one of the two spots in the far corner of the yard reserved for parking. She cut the engine. They had been at the hospital for the better part of the day. The sun had set hours earlier. The rush of adrenalin she had felt speeding behind the ambulance, the fear for Gram’s health, had all but faded. She was tired, but more than that, she was relieved.

Gram remained quiet the entire ride home. Caroline was silent in the backseat.

Kevin was sitting on the steps under the porch light waiting for their return. Jo had called from the hospital to tell him where they were, what had happened. He held a guitar in his lap, but he wasn’t playing. The sight of him sitting there with a guitar aggravated her. A part of her blamed that damned guitar for all her troubles no matter how crazy it sounded.

He rushed to the passenger side door to help Gram out of the car. He wrapped his arm around Gram’s waist. “You gave me quite a scare,” he said.

“I’m fine, really,” Gram assured him, and yet she let him help her. She was practically swooning with the attention.

He had always known how to suck up to her parents. Even Pop had thought Kevin was Jo’s savior, swooping in, marrying her when she had gotten pregnant, protecting her reputation, or rather, wasn’t it the family’s reputation Pop had been concerned about? She didn’t know nor did she care. Kevin had the same effect on Gram, making a huge deal about Gram’s cooking, jumping in to help with chores whenever he was around. He played the part of son-in-law so well, even Jo bought into it.

“So what did the doctor say?” he asked Gram once he had her seated at the kitchen table with a sandwich and glass of milk.

“They couldn’t find anything wrong,” Jo said, answering for Gram.

“You don’t sound too happy about that,” Gram said, but before Jo could respond, Gram continued. “The doctor thought it might’ve been a panic attack.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Kevin said.

“No, it doesn’t.” Jo crossed her arms. She suspected Gram had pulled one over on them, but most of all on Sheriff Borg. Maybe Gram had thought she was protecting Caroline by drawing attention to herself and away from her granddaughter. Jo had to admit, it seemed to have worked. Caroline remained suspiciously quiet. She looked over at her daughter. She was wearing a baseball cap, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. The front of her baseball shirt was stained with dirt.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Caroline said, and kissed Gram’s cheek before rushing into her bedroom.

Kevin picked up the guitar he had brought inside with him.

“Where did you get that?” Jo asked.

“I found it in the back of the closet when I was cleaning,” Gram said. “It has to be his. No one else plays. Why don’t you play something for us?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s a bit out of tune,” he said.

Jo bit her bottom lip. Kevin and his damned guitar had wooed her, charmed Gram, and enticed women in general every single time. Sure, he was handsome, strong, and lean, but put a guitar in his hands, and he became so much more. What was it about a music man? Whenever he played the thing, his passion, his voice, moved her in ways she didn’t want to think about. Hell, she wanted to throw her bra at him before he even plucked the first chord. Then again, she wasn’t wearing one.

“I’m going to shower,” she said.

*   *   *

Her mouth tasted funny, and the scent of antiseptic, a hospital smell, lingered on her skin. She tied her hair up and let the cool water wash away the muck of the day. In the kitchen Kevin played a couple of chords. She closed her eyes. He may have been able to bait her with his music, but she had to admit, she had been the one who seduced him.

She had lured him to the private beach on the other side of the lake and removed her bikini. She stood before him naked and exposed, only sixteen years old, wanting to explore this power she possessed but didn’t quite understand. She had wanted him to see her, all her soft spots and sharp edges as only he could see her, this sensitive boy who she suddenly desired.

He had seemed frightened at first, unable to move, but drinking her in at the same time, almost drowning in the sight of her. How she had toyed with him, using her body, her sex, moving in close, so close she could feel his breath on her lips.

When she touched his chest, he gasped, his skin quivering beneath her fingertips. His whole body trembled when she pressed up against him. It was as though he was afraid to touch her for fear she’d disappear. When he finally did reach for her, his hunger was like nothing she had ever experienced, his appetite for every inch of her, insatiable.

When it was over and he lay next to her in the sand, weak and out of breath, he had wept. She felt beautiful and powerful embracing her sexuality like never before, a woman desired like no other. In the days that followed, they had become addicted to the sex, to each other, and neither could stop if they had wanted.

She became the fool between two lovers like in the old song from the seventies the jukebox played. She should’ve known nothing good could come from a craving so strong.

*   *   *

She punched off the water in the shower. A woman’s voice came from the kitchen, asking about the ambulance and whether Gram was okay. It wasn’t surprising. Half the colony came out to gawk and gossip. It was typical, and Gram could more than handle herself with a few nosy neighbors.

Jo thought about Sara and Patricia, Pattie, and her own bit of news. She’d have to tell Kevin what she had learned, but she wanted to talk to Heil first, to get the men back on the lake and searching.

She slipped into clean clothes and sneaked out the back porch, making sure the door didn’t slam behind her.

*   *   *

Jo’s hands were clammy by the time she had reached the Pavilion. The place was lit up, the jukebox blared, the sound of laughter rang through the air. She marched up the steps, grateful they were empty. On any given night, Johnny and his gang might have been hanging out drinking beer and smoking cigarettes and doing whatever else she didn’t let herself think about.

Inside, the pool tables were crowded with kids. The Needlemeyer twins looked her way as she strode past. The snack stand was open. On the second-floor bar she heard the scraping of barstools and felt the vibrations of pounding, dancing feet.

She pushed Heil’s office door open without knocking. He was sitting behind a cheap-looking desk next to a metal filing cabinet. Several mounts hung on the wall—lake trout, pike, big-mouthed bass. A couple of fishing poles were tucked in the corner of the room. His face registered surprise. His greasy head glowed under the bright light. He leaned back in the chair, exposing the expanse of his stomach, and slipped his hand underneath the waistband of his shorts, tapping his thumb on his bloated belly.

“What can I do for you?” he asked. “Although, after the way you barged in here, doesn’t make me want to do much.”

“Patricia is Pattie Dugan. She’s one of us,” she said, ignoring his snide remark and his hand in his shorts.

“Pattie Dugan. Now why does that name sound familiar?”

“Bob and Jean Dugan. They were lake regulars for years. Patricia is their daughter. She’s Pattie Dugan.”

He shrugged. “And what of it?”

“She’s not some outsider. She’s not a one-season wonder. And we have to do everything we can to help her.”

He raised his hands as if to say,
Why?

She stared at him, confused by his nonchalant attitude. It suddenly occurred to her that he knew all along who Patricia was. He knew and it hadn’t mattered. “You knew all this time.”

“Of course I knew. I make it my business to know everything about everybody who comes to my lake.”

“It’s not your lake.”

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong.”

She rubbed her brow. She didn’t want to get into the same tiresome argument about lake ownership. She didn’t see the point, not now. “You have to get the men back on the lake, searching. You have to find her daughter,” Jo said. “She’s one of
us
.”

“Do I?” Heil placed his hands square on the desk. He leaned forward. The chair creaked under his weight. He narrowed his eyes. “One of
us
? Is that who you think you are?” he asked. “Your family, your mother, especially, has given me nothing but trouble since she bought that cabin. So let’s get something straight. You’re not one of us. You never were.”

Jo was taken back. “My family has nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, I think they do,” he said. “Have you talked with your daughter? If anyone is to blame for stopping the search, it’s the kids who messed with those traps.”

“She had nothing to do with that.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he said. “I can’t prove it. I can’t prove a lot of things that happen on my lake—not legally anyway—which brings me around to you.” His eyes roamed her body.

She crossed her arms, covering her breasts. “What about me?”

“Don’t play innocent with me. You may have fooled everyone else around here, but I know who you really are. I know what you’re capable of.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

He leaned across the desk. “I hear you like it rough.”

“You’re disgusting.” She took a step back.

“Am I?” He came up out of his seat and leaned farther across the desk, his large stomach resting on top, his eyes narrowing to mere slits. “You don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing with those boys under
my
Pavilion steps? On
my
beach? Why don’t you tell me what really happened to Billy Hawke?”

She stumbled backward. “This isn’t about me or—Or Billy. This is about a little girl,” she stuttered. “And her mother.”

His face burned red. “You’re damn right, it is. So why don’t you just stay out of it?” He reached across the desk as though he was going to choke her.

She backpedaled out the door and ran through the Pavilion. People turned to stare. She ignored them and hustled down the stairs and into the parking lot. Heil was nothing but a pervert trying to scare her. That was all. He didn’t know anything about her or Billy.

Heil was a dirty money-loving piece of shit.

*   *   *

Jo picked up a rock at the water’s edge and launched it into the lake.
Plop.
She picked up two more and threw them as hard as she could.
Plop. Plop.
She tried not to think about Heil and his accusations. She stared at the floating pier. On certain nights in the light of the moon, under a star-filled sky, the pier became a beacon in the center of the lake.

When she had been younger, there had been countless times where she’d swim out to the pier and lie under the stars on a night much like tonight. Sometimes Billy had been with her. Sometimes Kevin had been there too. Other times, her favorite times of all, were the times when she had been alone, her thoughts drifting, floating on the water, at one with the universe. She missed that girl, the one with dreams, confident and strong—the one with hope for a future.

She folded her arms. The water kissed her toes. She continued staring out at the lake, wondering what had happened to that girl she used to be, where she had gone wrong, remembering the very last time she had swum to the pier, the very last time she had seen Billy.

*   *   *

They had been drinking, all of them, under the steps of the Pavilion. Eddie had pulled a long shift at the bar, carrying cases of beer, rolling out empty kegs, exchanging the barrels for full ones, busing tables. But it had been a special night for Kevin. He had been asked by Tony, one of the guys in the band, to play a few songs and warm up the crowd. It had taken some coaxing, mostly from Billy to get Kevin to do it.

“Don’t be a wuss,” Billy said. “You’re really good. You should be playing to a crowd.”

Kevin had looked at Jo. She believed he was asking what she thought he should do. Of course she wanted him to play, but she also wanted to be sitting in the bar listening, not outside under the steps hearing his voice as though it were secondhand smoke. No, if he was going to play on a stage in front of a crowd, in front of other girls, she had to be there, front and center, listening firsthand, smoking the cigarette herself.