The Secrets of Lake Road - Karen Katchur Page 0,83

didn’t know better, he’d think she was drunk.

She didn’t notice him. How could she with her back to him and her head down? He had heard who she was from a couple of the fishermen the last time he was in the bar. Patricia was little Pattie Dugan, daughter of Bob and Jean, the couple who had come to the lake every summer for years and then one year had packed up and left, never to return. He had stopped listening to the gossip after that. It didn’t matter why the Dugans had stopped coming. He was more interested in what made Patricia, Pattie, come back.

He started following her, lagging far enough behind so she wouldn’t hear him—or if she did, she wouldn’t be alarmed. It was the road everyone in the colony took to the lake unless they took the path that cut through the woods, but which most adults avoided for practical reasons, bugs, poison ivy, or Cougar, Stimpy’s noisy, pathetic dog.

The sun was high in the sky, promising another hot day. He reached into his pocket for the pack of smokes. He paused briefly to light up. The Pavilion was open for business, and it was bustling. The parking lot was full of lake locals and their tents. Everyone was preparing for the Trout Festival. Heil was a man who got his way more often than not. He was a man who got things done, and nothing was going to stop this festival from taking place. It was one of the biggest money-makers of the season. People from all around the Poconos area, from all different vacation sites, flocked to the lake for a day of fishing, food, and crafts. The locals made a killing.

Kevin watched Patricia shuffle through the chaos. Most people got out of her way and looked a little guilty upon seeing her. The underwater recovery team was in the middle of lake doing their job. A few fishing boats were also out on the lake, but they respectfully kept their distance from the watercraft, although if they had any respect, they wouldn’t be out there at all.

Patricia stopped and gazed out at the lake. She started walking again, heading straight for the docks. Kevin followed, stopping briefly to say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, Megan’s parents, who were carrying their beach chairs, obviously going to the swimming area to enjoy the day, drowning, be damned. Stimpy had his men working near the docks. Nate waved as Kevin passed. There were too many distractions, and Patricia was almost clear to the other side of the lake by the time Kevin broke free from the crowd. He passed Eddie’s cabin and found Sheila sitting outside on the front porch with a cup of coffee and the Lake Reporter. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it.

“Join me,” Sheila said.

He glanced in the direction in which Patricia had been walking along the docks. Then he sat next to Sheila, deciding it was better to chat for a few minutes than make up some lie about where he was going and what he was doing.

“Eddie’s inside sleeping it off. And to think I’m usually the one who can’t handle the alcohol.” She laughed.

They reminisced about their partying days, and for a moment it felt like old times, how easily they had reverted to their teenage selves just by being together under the hot summer sun by the lake.

But after a few minutes of idle chitchat, the underwater recovery team’s watercraft pulled alongside the floating pier and silenced them. Kevin became keenly aware of a distance that spread between them—the space that never seemed to have closed after Billy had died. In ways, his death bound them to each other, and at the same time tore them apart. The little girl’s drowning, the recovery team on the lake—both were reminders you could never go back.

Sheila drank from her coffee cup, keeping her eyes over the rim and on the watercraft. Kevin sensed she wanted something from him. He wiped his palms on his shorts.

“You know,” she said, “Sheriff Borg stopped by to see me. He told me they confirmed the bones are Billy’s.”

He didn’t say anything, only nodded. So the DNA results were in.

“He asked if I knew how Billy might’ve hurt his arm.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I didn’t know.”

Sheila had never asked him any questions about his version of what had happened the night Billy had drowned. She believed the story he had