The Secrets of Lake Road - Karen Katchur Page 0,17

skeptical about what he was telling her. “What bones?” she asked.

“I’m no medical examiner, but they looked to be bones from a forearm.”

She stared at him, wanting to believe what he was telling her was true.

He stared back. “Of course, they’ll need to be sent to the lab. It will be a couple of days before we have any definite answers.”

Her breathing was shallow, her spine rigid. “What does this mean?” she asked. The bones had to be her brother’s, Billy’s. The sheriff wouldn’t be here otherwise.

“I’m not sure it means anything. Just that we may have found what we couldn’t before.”

“But it could prove something, right?” She never believed Billy’s drowning was an accident, although that was how it was ruled, an accidental death, even though his skull had been cracked. At the time they had explained it, justified it with excuses, how he must’ve fallen, hit his head, and drowned. There hadn’t been any witnesses to prove otherwise, although Dee Dee didn’t believe that either. Billy had left the cabin that night with his girlfriend, Jo. Where the hell was she when it happened? Why wasn’t she with him?

There was something off about that whole night from the moment Jo had set foot inside their home. She had been distracted, waiting for Billy to finish dinner so they could go out for the night. Billy had asked Jo a question twice, although Dee Dee no longer remembered what the question was, something innocuous. But Jo wasn’t paying attention, and that was the strangest part. Jo always gave Billy her full attention. For three summers since Billy was thirteen years old, Jo was a permanent fixture by his side like a lake leech stuck to his skin.

But that week, that particular night, Dee Dee was certain something had changed. It was as though she felt the fracture in their relationship as sure as if the earth’s fault lines had shifted beneath her feet. Of course, it was impossible to know exactly what had changed. And she had never gotten the chance to ask him.

And then there was Heil, how hard he had pushed to have the case closed when witnesses confirmed Billy had been drinking underage, the alcohol supplied by Heil’s bar. As for the missing bones from Billy’s forearm, they were thought to have been clawed off by snappers, gone forever.

So no, she never believed her brother’s drowning was an accident. There were too many unanswered questions.

“Look,” the sheriff said. “I know you’re hoping they’ll find some evidence, something new to suggest it wasn’t an accident.”

“You know I am,” she shot back, letting her anger and frustration show. She was nineteen and already knocked up and alone, deserted by her boyfriend, when she had lost Billy. She was just a kid. And yet the sheriff had always been willing to listen to her, to the possibility there was more to the story about her brother’s disappearance than he was ever able to prove.

Tonight he stared at her as though he was unsure whether or not to continue. He knew her well enough to know there was no reasoning with her when she was agitated.

“Go on. Spit it out,” she said.

“Not a lot of people know about the bones. Heil wants to keep it quiet. He doesn’t think it’s a priority under the circumstance. All he’s concentrating on is the current situation with the girl. He doesn’t want to remind people there were other drownings around here.”

“What Heil does or doesn’t do makes no difference to me.” All she needed was someone in a lab somewhere to prove what she had known all along.

“Fair enough. Just don’t get your hopes up.” When she didn’t respond, the sheriff put on his hat. “You should wear gloves next time.” He pointed to her hands, referring to the blister. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, and showed himself out.

* * *

After the sheriff left, Dee Dee grabbed a six-pack of beer from the refrigerator. She turned off all the lights and stepped outside to sit on the porch swing in the dark and think. She often sat alone deep into the night, staring out at the lake, drinking beer with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company. Some might say she had a problem, drinking alone in the dark undercover. Maybe she did. But she had stopped caring what other people thought a long time ago. So what if she drank herself numb most nights? She wasn’t hurting anyone and how