The Secrets of Lake Road - Karen Katchur Page 0,56

before scanning the mess on the floor.

“That last crack of thunder,” she mumbled. “The cup slipped from my hands.”

“You should be more careful,” he said.

“I will.”

He turned his hat around in his hands. “Have you given any thought to our conversation the other day? Is there anything you want to tell me?” he asked. “Maybe something you might’ve remembered?”

Jo shook her head, feeling his eyes on her as she continued picking up ceramic shards.

Patricia touched the sheriff’s arm. “What about my girl?”

He turned his attention to her. “No one can be on the lake with the thunder and lightning.” He hesitated as though he were making up his mind whether to continue. “We have another problem,” he finally said. “One of the fishermen was up early before the storm to check the traps and found them empty. There were muddy footprints all over the docks: kids’ footprints. They must’ve fooled with the traps and let the snappers out sometime last night.”

“Why? Who would do such a thing?” Patricia asked.

“Kids pulling a stupid prank would be my guess.”

All the blood rushed to Jo’s head. Caroline, she thought. It would explain the wet clothes, the dirty sneakers in her bedroom. She pinched her eyes closed. Why would Caroline do it? Her daughter knew she wasn’t supposed to touch a fisherman’s traps. Did Caroline even know what they were using the snappers for?

“How do you know the turtles didn’t just get out?” Patricia asked.

“Not possible unless they locked the trap doors behind them.”

He continued. “It’s a darn good thing the rain held off until now, or we never would have seen the footprints.”

Patricia nodded.

“I wanted to stop by to let you know they’ll have to trap more turtles,” he said. “That is, if you still want them to. I can put an end to it if you say so, and we’ll let the recovery team continue as they have been.”

Patricia was quiet. The only sound was the splattering rain on the roof and the occasional clap of thunder. After awhile, without looking at him, she said, “I want them to do whatever it takes. I want my daughter found.”

“Okay.” He put his hat back on and turned toward the door. “I’ll let the men know.”

“Wait,” Patricia said. “I’m coming with you.” She chased after him, leaving Jo all alone on her knees in the kitchen.

* * *

As soon as the sheriff and Patricia were out of sight, Jo rushed back to The Pop-Inn, the pouring rain drenching her for the second time that morning. She pulled open the screen door, letting it slam behind her. Kevin sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. He looked like hell.

“Forget your umbrella?” he asked, and smiled, but he must’ve seen something on her face, because he immediately furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t have time to explain. She darted into Caroline’s bedroom. Her daughter wasn’t in bed. She plucked the wet dirty clothes off the floor. She searched the room for the muddy sneakers. They were nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Caroline?” she called to Kevin, and tossed the dirty clothes into the sink. There wasn’t time to take them to the Laundromat. She turned on the faucet.

“She took off on her bike a little while ago,” he said. His voice was deep and raspy from a night of drinking and smoking and singing. “I didn’t think she should go out in the storm, but like mother like daughter.” He leaned against the wall outside the bathroom door, sipping coffee. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

She didn’t know where to begin; Patricia asking about Billy, the sheriff, or that Jo suspected Caroline had released the fishermen’s snappers. Instead she said, “Do you know where she went?”

The screen door slammed.

She pushed past him. “Caroline,” she called, but found Gram instead.

Kevin walked up behind her, and she suddenly felt trapped between the two. She pulled on her wet cotton shirt, which stuck to her breasts and constricted her chest, the collar tightening around her neck.

“Is someone in the bathroom?” Gram asked. “I hear water running.”

Kevin shot out of the kitchen to turn off the water so the sink wouldn’t overflow. Jo backed away from Gram. The distance was enough to open her throat and allow the air to return to her lungs. She pulled her damp hair from her face.

“Where’s Caroline?” Gram dropped a bag onto the table.

“That seems to be the million-dollar question,” Kevin said, returning to the kitchen. “What’s in the