Chapter 22

Michelle’s phone rang at ten a.m. the next morning and she shuffled, exhausted and sore, to the telephone on the wall. She picked up the receiver and held it between her chin and her shoulder.

“Hello?”

“Is this Michelle Camden?” asked a familiar male voice, she furrowed her brow.

“Yes, it is. Who is this?”

“This is Paul Spencer, the geologist from the USGS. I was the one reading the journals in the library?”

“Oh, yes, I remember. How can I help you?” She was curious.

“I got your number from information. I’m sorry for calling you this early and on your day off. I just wanted to ask if it were possible for us to meet to talk. How about breakfast?”

He wants those journals, Michelle thought to herself. In fact, she wanted to sit down with them again after last night. She raised her arm and studied the ACE bandage she’d wrapped around both wrists, the scratches on her palms from falling on gravel… “Give me an hour and I’ll meet you for lunch. I may have to bring the kids, how about the Maple Leaf?”

“That’s fine. I’ll see you there,” Paul said and hung up.

She set her phone down on the cradle and looked at her children playing in the living room. Picking up the receiver again, she dialed Cassandra’s number. Cassandra answered after one ring.

They talked briefly and agreed Michelle could drop the kids off at Cassandra’s house. Her own children were running her ragged and needed other children to play with. Michelle informed her two little ones of the plan, and they cheered, running upstairs to get dressed. Chuckling, she shook her head and followed them up to change out of her pajamas.

* * * * * * * *

Paul waited at a booth at the Maple Leaf drinking a glass of lemonade. His head was throbbing, and his eyes were grainy. He’d awoken to the sound of his cell phone ringing nonstop. It was his boss from Boston, inquiring as to what happened the night before.

* * *

Paul sat up and took the call, his eyes barely open. Mike was going on about how the police had contacted him about Paul’s whereabouts the night prior.

“Calm down, calm down, Mike. I am fine.” Paul yawned deep, sleep still enticing him.

“What happened down there?”

“A young woman was found dead inside her vehicle. It was in the lake.”

“No shit? Damn. Well, look, we faxed over the readouts this morning to the chief which backs up your story. I also contacted our legal department should anything else be needed. You okay?”

Paul listened to this quietly. He didn’t need a lawyer; what he needed was two huge aspirin and four more hours of sleep. He looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to his bed. Shit. It was already nine a.m. He needed to find a way to get ahold of Michelle from the library. He wanted to read through those journals.

“Okay,” he murmured.

“One other thing, we went over the seismographs for Lake Veronica. A small quake happened about four miles away, it was pretty shallow. What we’re seeing from your region now looks to be even shallower than that. Is anyone discharging dynamite in that area?” Paul could hear Mike shuffling through paperwork.

“No. At least I haven’t heard anything.” He wondered if the chief would have told him if there had been.

“Then my guess is your having quite a few landslides in that area. Underneath the surface of the lake, this is really unique. I have a few people I am sending down your way, which should be there in the morning. One of them, Tara Weaver, is a camera expert and will be bringing with her a deep-water video recorder to look.”

Paul perked up at this. “You know there is a small town under there? Lake Veronica was created by accident.” He filled him in on the details of the journal that he had read.

“Holy cow. Well, there is an archeology major from Boston University coming, his name is Robert Todd. The third guy is David Michaels—you know David, from volcanology. He is bringing a smaller seismograph and a bunch of electronic equipment. Is there anyone you can charter a boat from?”

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem, I don’t think. All right, Mike, I need to get up and start my day. I’ll call you if I need anything.” Paul scooted off the side of the bed.

They said their goodbyes, and Paul into the bathroom. He was excited his boss was sending him workers to help. He had a feeling they were going to need all the help they could get.

* * *

That had been two hours ago, and now, as he sat in the booth of the little diner, he heard the door tinkle as someone else walked in. He raised his head to see Michelle walking right over towards him.

She looked worn out, haggard, and drawn. He sat up straighter in the booth as she sat down. She placed her wrapped wrists on the table in front of her. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hands trembled slightly. Her hair was still damp—Paul guessed she’d just come from the shower—and tied up in a ponytail behind her head.

“Are you okay?” he asked, motioning to her wrists.

“Yeah. I just…fell.” She didn’t want to go into detail. He gave her a you know you can talk to me if he’s beating you look. She shook her head. “I’m widowed. No one did this to me.” She smiled reassuringly. Paul relaxed a bit. “I was able to find a sitter for my rugrats. I’m starving, have you ordered yet?”

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“Oh, great! There’s Suzie.” Michelle waved the waitress over.

Paul looked up to see the normally spunky woman walking around as if she were in a daze too. What is going on around here? Everyone seems to have been hit with the same bomb all over the place.

“Hey, honey. Oh, you two know each other?” Suzie asked, looking at them both.

Michelle nodded. “Yup, he came into the library the other day and we are going to go back to do some research.” She looked over at Paul, who nodded in affirmation.

Suzie gave her a look. “Is that what they call it nowadays?” She propped one hand on her hip; a smile played at the edge of her lips.

Michelle laughed, and Paul frowned good-naturedly though he felt the heat creep into his face. Michelle was pretty, but he was nearly forty-five. Fit, but still forty-five. She blushed a little and cleared her throat.

“Mmm-hmm. Anyway, what can I get ya?” Suzie asked, taking out her pen and paper. They both ordered burgers and fries with Cokes and she sauntered off.

Michelle sighed. “Oh, this town never gets old.”

“What do you mean?” Paul took another sip of his lemonade.

“Secrets. You can’t keep a secret, do anything under the radar, or have someone stop by without the whole town hearing about it by the end of the day.”

Paul laughed. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s why we have the lowest crime rate in the state, I bet. Everyone would know whodunit before the criminal could get finished with what they were doin’.” She shook her head.

“Yeah, well, we have some weird stuff going on that no one can figure out. Last night, the police pulled an SUV out of Lake Veronica with a dead woman inside.”

Michelle looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed, and leaned in closer. “I didn’t hear anything about that. How do you know?”

“I was the one who called the police,” Paul admitted. He started filling her in on the details of what happened and watched her eyes grow wide and then narrow when he mentioned the deep ruts in the sand. Her face turned a little pale and he stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Michelle went to say more, but ceased when Suzie brought their food out to them. Suzie set the plates down and asked if they needed anything else. They both said no, and she smiled and walked away.

“Try me,” Paul said.

With a sigh, Michelle began recounting the nightmare she’d had and went into every detail. Paul picked his burger up to eat it but stopped midway and set it back down. He stared at her from across the table for so long she became uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Look, I know it’s stupid…” she said, but he shook his head. This woman looked horrified and embarrassed, and he could tell she was having a hard time staying composed. He reached across the table and took her hand in his. She let him.

“It’s not stupid. Dreams are a part of who we are. I can’t begin to make sense of what you told me, but I think your husband was right. We need to keep digging in those diaries and see if we can’t find something. This whole situation is strange, and there’s definitely something wrong here. There have been two deaths already and they all seemed to be tied to this lake.” Paul’s face was bleak.

“Three,” Suzie corrected. They both looked up, startled. They had been so engrossed in the conversation they hadn’t seen her approach.

Paul frowned in confusion. “There was the young man, the girl in the vehicle last night, and who else?”

“Chad Rhine was the first victim. Jessica was the third. Look, this is just rumor, but Elizabeth—Chad’s girlfriend—was found dead in the hospital the night after he died. The nurse who worked the floor and the psych doctor both said she had drowned. Her lungs were filled with water. I’m friends with David Taylor—the nurse—and he’s not doing too well these days after what he saw.” Suzie motioned for Michelle to scoot over. The restaurant had become crowded as noon fell upon them, and other waiters and waitresses hustled to their tables carrying trays of food and drinks.

Suzie leaned in to talk to them in a hushed tone. “David saw Chad in Elizabeth’s room that night. He said Chad killed her.”

“How is that possible?” Paul asked.

“Hell if I know. That’s what he kept saying. The hospital told him to take some vacation time, to…well, recuperate. They said his long hours and work schedule had stressed him out too much.” She sat back before continuing, “Yet the doctor confirmed his story. Raymond—one of the psychologists on staff—said he saw the security camera video.”

Michelle and Paul both looked at each other. This whole situation was only got stranger.

“There’s a video tape?” Michelle asked. Suzie nodded her red head.

“There was. They hospital turned it over to the police. Don Lage, the chief, was Elizabeth’s father.”

“Jesus. I wondered why he kept staring out into the lake last night.” Paul said. He finally took a bite of his sandwich, a little disappointed that it had grown cold and stuck to the roof of his mouth. He chewed slowly, thinking about what everyone had said. Suzie jumped up and walked to one of her other tables where someone had raised their hand to get her attention.

Michelle picked up a French fry, decided she didn’t want it, and put it back on her plate. “This is nuts.”

“Yeah, I think so too,” Paul said.

They finished their meal, what they could eat of it anyway, paid and then left. They decided to ride together to the library and see what the journals could tell them about what was happening in this town.

* * * * * * * *

Jake sat on the cold linoleum floor of his bathroom, head pressed to the bowl of the toilet, cooling his fevered skin. His breaths came in short ragged bursts of inhaling and exhaling, and his whole body shook. The police had come knocking on his door earlier this morning, prior to him leaving for work, and told him about Jessica.

Linda Portman, a friend of his mother’s, and Jim Waters both sat him down and asked him a few questions about where he had been the night before and what his relationship was with the deceased. The shaking had become uncontrollable from that point forward and so had the crying jags. He would be fine one second, and the next he would be hunched over the small garbage can that sat next to his recliner, throwing his guts up. He told them of the nature of his relationship to Jessica, how they met, and when the affair started.

Linda sat there taking notes while Jim held the can under Jake’s head. Both looked devastated for him and they kept apologizing for the line of questioning. His heart felt like it was going to stop beating any second and grow cold; the grief was so heavy a burden.

Jim asked if there were ever any problems between of them—if there had been any violence, any jealousy—and Jake said no to each one. He knew where the line of questioning was going, and he came right out and gave them the answer.

“I didn’t kill Jessica. I loved her. She had just left…” He buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

Linda rubbed his back. “Did her husband know about the affair?” She didn’t believe this kid was capable of murder, much less drowning a woman. She shot a look over at her partner, who sympathized with her opinion by the look on his face. He looked just as grief-stricken as Jake.

Jake shook his head, and when he calmed down enough to answer, said, “I don’t think so. She said he never paid attention to her. But I don’t know. She doesn’t…didn’t talk about him much.” He sat back, sweaty and fatigued but continued. “She said he hit her if he got drunk.”

Linda noted this. They finished and asked them if there was anyone they could call. The twenty-four-year-old nodded pitifully and asked Linda to call his mother. She did.

Now, two hours later and two Xanax from his mother’s stash, he sat cold and numb on the floor of his bathroom.

A knock on the door came with the sound of his mother’s voice. “Are you okay, Jake?”

He nodded as if she could see him and stood up on shaky legs, staggering over to the door. His mother, Audrey Thomas, stood outside, concern written all over her face.

“Come on, let’s lie you down.” She talked as she walked him to his bed. “I called your father, he’s on his way down from Montpelier. It’ll be an hour or so before he gets here. I also called your work and told them you wouldn’t be in today and maybe the rest of the week. Your boss said he would be stopping by later too.”

She had no idea in the world that Jake had been involved with anyone much less a married woman. Her heart was broken for him, but she’d had the sense to call a lawyer—her ex-husband—after Linda hung up the phone. That was why Marshal was headed down now. Besides, it would do Jake a world of good to see his father.

As she laid her son down, she removed his work boots and set them down beside his bed. He had already begun to snore, the Xanax pumping through his system. Leaning over, she kissed him on top of his head and turned the light out, but as she made to leave the room, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her hand flew to her mouth and she inhaled sharply at what she saw. Standing between her and the door, was a man. He was dressed in black from head to toe. He looked old, parched, and very sad as he ignored her and gazed down at her sleeping son.

“Who are you?” she choked out.

He lifted his head and looked at her briefly before disappearing into thin air. Her heart was beating so fast and her legs had become so unsteady that she was forced to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Her mind was reeling. Had she just seen a ghost? Her hands trembled as she looked at the spot where the man had stood. His clothing was old-fashioned, and it looked like he had riding boots on, but she couldn’t be sure. She set her jaw in determination and stood up again, opting to wait inside the room with her son for her ex-husband to arrive, all the while staring at the spot where the “thing” had been standing. I dare anything or anyone to come and mess with my baby.