The Secrets of Lake Road - Karen Katchur Page 0,38

how Sara was by her side and then suddenly she wasn’t.

There was a flurry of activity on one of the boats. She turned toward Patricia. For a second there was something familiar about her as though Jo had seen her before, and the shadow of a distant memory flitted across her mind.

“Listen to me,” Jo said. Her words came out in a rush. “It’s not going to be easy to see her. She’s not going to look like she did. The snappers.” She paused. “She’s been in the lake for a long time.” Jo couldn’t continue. The words caught in her throat.

Patricia nodded. But Jo was sure Patricia didn’t understand what she was trying to say. It wasn’t that Sara’s body would be pale and bloated and lifeless. It was that she was going to look so much worse than Patricia could ever imagine.

* * *

The boat veered toward the shore. Patricia took off running toward the pier on the other side of the beach where it was headed. Jo followed at a much slower pace. None of the other onlookers moved. She noticed Kevin in the back of the crowd. She felt his eyes on her, following her every step, but he kept his distance. He was good at keeping his distance when it mattered most.

The sheriff and his deputy strode to the pier, where Patricia was waiting for the fishermen. Jo stood several feet behind them. When the boat docked, one of the men shook his head. “We’re sorry.”

“No!” Patricia cried out. She lunged toward the boat. The deputy grabbed her arms and held her back.

“No,” the fisherman said. “I mean, I’m sorry, it’s not your little girl.”

Stimpy picked up a six-foot eel and tossed it onto the beach without thinking twice about how it might be received. Jo looked away. Idiot, she whispered. The eel’s skin was shredded, its flesh ripped and torn and full of holes.

Patricia turned her head away, wriggling free from the deputy. She stumbled. The sheriff caught her.

“What happened to it?” Patricia asked him.

“Snappers,” the sheriff said. “Get her out of here,” he said to his deputy.

The deputy took Patricia by the elbow and guided her across the beach to the parking lot, far away from the scene. Her sobs cut across the night air.

A few people from the bar came forward now that Patricia had gone. Someone said, “Would you look at the size of that thing?”

“It’s a big one,” Stimpy said, and nudged it with his foot. “We stock them in these waters, but I’ve never seen one this big. The biggest I’ve ever seen is a four- or five-footer.”

By this time everyone on the beach came forward to see the fish, even Kevin. He stood next to Jo. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets. Caroline, Megan, and a couple of their friends appeared from across the way. They stopped to stare at the dead fish.

Heil walked onto the pier and stood next to the sheriff.

“I didn’t agree to this,” the sheriff said to him. “I won’t agree to this.”

Heil slapped the sheriff on the shoulder. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You better,” the sheriff said, and strode to his car, where the deputy and Patricia were waiting.

Stimpy and the other fisherman fumbled with the caged snappers on the boat.

“How many in there?” Heil pointed to the traps.

“Four.” Stimpy scratched his head. “Some of them got tangled, and we had to cut the lines.”

“Well, we’re going to need more.” He motioned to the lake. “You see how big it is out there. We need more boats, too. You tell the other fishermen, I want every last one of them on the lake. We’ve got to find this girl.”

“Yeah, okay, okay,” Stimpy said.

“You hear me?” Heil addressed the crowd behind him. “We’re all in agreement?”

There was a collective rumble from the group. Jo and Kevin exchanged a look.

When no one else spoke up, Heil spit in the general direction of Stimpy and the mutilated eel. “Now get that damn thing off my beach.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Caroline spent another night tossing and turning, tangled in sheets. Her dreams were filled with snakes and eels and disfigured fish. And in the center, amidst the slithering and thrashing prey, was the rock behind Chris’s cabin, the one painted with the initials J + B.

Somehow the image of the heart, the initials, disturbed her more than the mangled fish. She was certain it was another piece of the puzzle that had to do with her mother and