He rode down the quiet dirt road in the darkness, the moon and stars clear in the sky above him through the tree limbs hanging out. The lights were out in the few houses he passed. A dog came running out from one of the houses barking at him and Sammy called to him softly, “Sonny, you go back.” The big dog slowed and then ran alongside Sammy, its tail wagging. Sonny, go on!” Sammy said, pointing back toward the dog’s yard. Finally, it broke away and trotted back.
Sammy turned on the road into town, not sure exactly where he was going, but certain in his mind only trouble lay ahead in the coming day.
Jennifer Harris woke with the first light of morning through her bedroom window and as her mind cleared, the memories of the past night came back to her. She turned and buried her head in her pillow. She had been up most of the night thinking about Andy after they took him into the hospital. He could barely walk, and his face was a swollen, bloody mess. She and her brother, Connor, had left him with the nurses and Connor had gone out to call his parents. The sheriff had come down a bit later and gone into the room where they were working on Andy.
Connor had been in an argument with the big sheriff when the man was trying to leave. She was sitting down the hall and couldn’t hear everything they were saying, but as the sheriff walked by her, he turned back to her brother and said, “I told you, I’ll go out and talk to him in the morning!”
She knew they’d been talking about Sammy and she rolled over on her back in bed as she thought about Sammy Truegood and all that had happened. The scattered memories of that first night at the beach that started all of this, bounced around in her brain. She closed her eyes, trying to shut all of it out. Every day it seemed some new fragment of memory would come back to her about that night, but mostly she felt the enduring shame and emptiness that had stayed with her and haunted her.
Then she threw the covers back and with some strange sense of purpose, she got up out of bed and went over to her closet and threw some clothes on. As quietly as she could, she went down the stairs and out the back door, taking the keys to her mother’s car.
When she turned the engine on, she flinched at the noise and looked up at the big house, expecting her brother to come running out after her. She put the transmission in reverse and backed out of the drive and then turned to head down into town. Turning left on Belvedere, she headed west down the quiet street, cars parked along each side, no one else up yet in the early hour. Down to the right she could see Round Lake and a few boats anchored off. A low mist hung over the harbor, but the sky above was clear after the rains from yesterday.
She pulled up to the stop at Bridge Street and looked to her left up the hill. A big truck with its headlights still on came slowly down and passed her and then she pulled out and drove slowly through the little town’s shopping district. The streetlights were still on, but there were very few cars along the curb. Up ahead on the right along the sidewalk at the park, she saw someone sitting on a bench. As she came closer, she slowed and saw a bike on the ground next to the bench and then she saw it was Sammy. She pulled quickly over to the curb.
He looked up as she got out of the car and came around to sit next to him. She could see a rough bandage on the back of his head and the dirty bloodstained bandages on his right hand. His face was worn and tired looking, as if he hadn’t slept. He didn’t say anything at first and turned back to look down at the lake.
“Sammy,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “Are you okay?”
He looked back at her and she winced when she saw the pain in his eyes. “Sammy, what is happening?” she said with desperation in her voice.
He just shook his head slowly and looked down at the ground.
“We went back and got Andy, Connor and me,” she said. “He was hurt pretty badly, and we took him down to the hospital.”
Sammy looked up and just stared at her for a moment. He stood up and reached for her hand. “I’d like to take you somewhere.”
George Hansen was on his way down to his office and as he drove by the McKendry’s house, he decided to stop for a moment to see if they were up and how Sara and Emily were doing. It was only seven o’clock, but he knew neither of them slept very late. He parked the car at the curb and went up the front walk. As he got to the door, he looked through the sidelight before he knocked.
He had a sinking feeling as he looked again and saw someone lying on the floor in the hallway. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked and then he ran around the side of the house to the back. Emily’s car was parked in the drive. When he came around the back of the house, he saw the back door had been left open and he ran up the steps into the back entry and then into the kitchen. Jonathan was lying motionless at the opening into the hall, the right side of his face was swollen and covered in dried blood.
George rushed over and knelt beside his friend, shaking him gently, “Jonathan, Jonathan!” There was no response. He ran over to the sink and ran water on a towel, then went back over to Jonathan and wiped softly at his brow and the ugly wound.
Jonathan’s eyelids started to move and then he opened his eyes and looked blankly up at the ceiling and then over at George kneeling beside him.
“Jonathan, what in hell’s happened?”
His friend just continued to lie there for a few moments and then George saw a sense of recognition come over his face which turned suddenly to fear. Jonathan tried to sit up and then moaned and fell back holding his head.
George tried to help ease his head back down on the hard wood floor.
“Emily,” Jonathan whispered weakly.
George looked toward the stairs and his heart sank as he thought about what might have happened. “You wait here, I’ll be right back.” He stood up and walked apprehensively toward the stairwell and then up the stairs. There were no sounds in the house except for the incessant ticking of the grandfather clock.
When he got to the top of the stairs, he stopped and listened. The doors to all three bedrooms were open and he walked slowly forward and looked into the first on the left. It was Jonathan and Emily’s room. The bed was empty, and the sheets and blankets were rumpled in disarray.
“Emily?” he called out softly. Nauseous fear almost overwhelmed him, and his knees started to shake as he walked down the hall to the back bedrooms. The next room on the right had a bed that hadn’t been disturbed and he went to the last door and cautiously looked in. There were two single beds coming out from the back wall. One had been slept in and two books lay on the bedspread at the foot of the bed, but there was no one in the room. He turned and looked down the hallway with the frightening realization of what must have happened and then he saw Jonathan struggling to come up the stairs.
Their eyes met, and Jonathan yelled out, “Where’s Emily?”
Chapter Thirty-three
Sally and Alex ran along the sand and then climbed up onto the north pier of the channel. The wreckage of the flaming boat was still floating in pieces out at the end of the pier. Alex had used his cell phone to call for the Coast Guard and the Sheriff’s Marine Patrol. A few other people were out ahead of them, scurrying around, framed in the bright hot glow of the flames on the water.
They ran as fast as they could and heard yelling and screaming up ahead. They came out to the rail and could see only parts of wreckage floating on the surface engulfed in flames, any part of the boat totally indistinguishable.
Sally turned and saw Alex’s face lit brightly by the flames and she came to him and put her head on his shoulder. “Those poor people.”
When they got back to the house, Megan was there sitting at the island in the kitchen reading the paper. She had tears in her eyes as she looked down at the picture of her Uncle George. Sally came over and gave her a hug and kissed her on the top of the head.
“I know, honey,” she said.
“So, they’ve caught the guy at least,” Megan said.
“Well, according to Elam, the sheriff, they think others may be involved,” Alex said.
“I just can’t believe this,” Megan said. She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a soft drink. “I do have some better news.”
“That’s good,” said Sally, “because we just came up from the beach and there was a terrible accident. Someone ran full speed into the end of the north pier. There was a huge explosion and fire and it looks pretty certain everyone was lost.”
“Oh, that’s awful,” Megan said. She opened her can of soda and sat down at the island. “And you saw it happen?”
Alex nodded, “We tried to help, but there was nothing left but burning wreckage.” He looked at Megan with a sad smile and said, “Let’s hear your good news.”
“I just came back from seeing Will.”
“Oh great,” her father said.
“You won’t believe what’s happened.”
“I can only imagine,” said Sally.
Megan told them the story of Melissa and Rick and their so-called prank.
“I can’t believe they would do that!” Sally said. “Have they lost their minds?”
“That’s what I asked Melissa when she finally owned up to all of this,” said Megan.
“What did the sheriff’s office say?” Alex asked.
“They’re going to call all of them in tomorrow, Melissa and Rick and his friend, Jimmy, and hopefully scare the crap out of them,” Megan said with a wry smile.
“I’m sorry about Rick, kid,” Alex said. “I know you really cared for him.”
“Well, I thought I did. I can’t believe what a jerk he is.”
“Yes,” Sally said, “sometimes men can be more than we girls can ever understand.” She looked over at her husband with a smile.
The phone by the bed rang and Sally opened her eyes to a soft light coming in through the window streaked with rain, heavy dark clouds drifting by outside. The phone rang again, and she reached over and picked up the receiver. Alex was still asleep next to her.
“Hello.”
She heard the quiet voice of Mary Alice Gregory on the other end of the line. She listened for a minute and the shocking realization of what had happened last night at the boat accident swept over her.
“Mary Alice, I’m so terribly sorry,” she said. She listened again and then said softly, “Okay, I’d like to come out to see you later this morning.” She heard Mary Alice say something else she couldn’t understand and then the line went dead. Sally looked over at her husband, oblivious to the death of his friend and partner.
The cook brought out a tray filled with coffee and croissants and the papers Connor Harris liked to read each morning. He sat them down on a small table next to Connor’s chair on the front veranda of the house. Rain dripped heavily off the eaves of the roof and thunder roared in the distance every few minutes. He didn’t bother to acknowledge the servant and just reached for the coffee.
The front-page headline of the Charlevoix Courier stuck out in the pile of newspapers under the Wall Street Journal. He picked up the local paper and read the story of the arrest of Vince Slayton in the death of George Hansen. He read every word and then put the paper slowly back down on the pile.
A bolt of lightning flashed out over the lake and he squinted as the bright light blinded him for a moment. The roaring rumble of thunder followed and rattled the coffee cup on the saucer next to him.
He thought of George Hansen and the run-ins they’d shared over the many years; those summers back in the ‘40’s when he had been doing George’s sister before her death, just to spite McKendry’s brother, Luke; and in ’52, or whenever it was when his own sister, Jennifer had been raped and Hansen defended the Indian kid who was charged.
He picked up the paper again and looked at the picture of George Hansen. The anger of those many years rushed back. He ripped the front page off and crumbling it into a ball, threw it out into the rain on the front yard.
Sally brought juice and coffee up to the bedroom for Alex. He was sitting up reading an email message on his phone, the small lamp on the table beside him turned on. A clap of thunder outside startled them both. She came over and sat next to him on his side of the bed and put the tray on the nightstand.
Alex looked up and saw the sad expression on his wife’s face. “What’s the matter? Gloomy day, gloomy mood?”
She shook her head no. “Mary Alice Gregory called a while ago,” she said and paused a moment.
“What did she want?” he said sarcastically.
“It’s Louis,” she said. “It was Louis in the boat crash last night.”
Alex sat up quickly and threw the phone over to his side. “What?”
“He’s dead, Alex. They retrieved the body this morning.” She watched her husband’s expression change as he rubbed his whiskered face trying to absorb the information. Then he looked back at her and shook his head slowly.
“I just can’t believe this, and we saw it happen,” he said, a helpless tone in his voice.
“I know it’s been bad between you and Louis these past months…” Sally said.
“But, he was my friend,” Alex said, completing her thought.
Sally handed him the glass of orange juice. “I know this probably isn’t the best time to say this, honey, but what will this do to the investigation?”
Alex looked out the window at the rain pelting down and then said, “You know, I have no idea. Certainly, their list of bad guys just got shorter.”
Sally knocked on the big ornate door at the summer home of Mary Alice Gregory and her family. She heard footsteps coming and the door opened. A servant let her in. The front foyer opened into a wide hallway that led down to a large room with windows all across the front, looking out at Lake Charlevoix. Sally took off her wet coat and handed it to the woman.
“Thank you, my name is Sally Clark and I’d like to speak with Mary Alice for a moment.”
The woman nodded and hung the coat in the front closet. “Would you like to take a seat out in the front room?” she asked.
“Sure, thank you.”
Sally followed her out to the front of the house and walked up to the wall of windows. She looked out at the lake through the streaming rain, then heard footsteps behind her on the wooden floor and turned to see Mary Alice coming into the room from a back hallway. She was still dressed in a robe and her feet were bare. Sally had never seen her without make-up and her face was pale and dark circles stood out under her eyes. Her black hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and hung lifeless down her back. She stopped for a moment and looked at Sally and seemed to be considering the situation.
Sally finally said, “I just wanted to come out and personally say how sorry Alex and I are about Louis and what’s happened.”
Mary Alice continued to look at her with little change in her expression.
“I know Louis and Alex were having some serious problems,” Sally said, “but even Alex said this morning, we need to put that aside at times like this, at least for a while, and remember a person for what they’ve meant in your life.”
Mary Alice nodded and walked down into the room. She came up to Sally and stood there for a moment in front on her. “Thank you,” she said softly.
Sally stepped forward and held out her arms and Mary Alice hesitated for a moment, but then reached out as well and the two women embraced. They stood there together for some time just holding each other.
Mary Alice said, “Thank you. Thank you for coming.”
The woman stepped back, and Sally saw the trails of tears coming down her face and she thought how devastated she would be if this had been Alex.
“Would you like some coffee, or anything?” Mary Alice offered.
“No, thank you.”
“Please sit down,” she said, pointing to a sofa behind Sally.
Sally sat down and watched as Mary Alice walked over to the big stone fireplace against the far wall. She reached up and took an envelope from the mantel and then came back over and sat down. She fumbled with the envelope for a few moments and then took a piece of paper out an
d handed it to Sally.
“Louis wrote this note to Alex. I found it on his desk this morning,”
Sally looked back at Mary Alice Gregory with a confused expression and then looked down at the piece of paper. She unfolded it and started to read.
Hey Alex,
It’s been a good ride, hasn’t it partner. I know I’ve made a bit of a mess of things lately, but you need to know it broke my heart to have any of this hurt you. I’ve sent a letter off to your attorney today with a complete explanation of what really happened here, with full documentation you had nothing to do with the decisions made and the actions taken that got us into all this trouble.
I’m sorry I couldn’t have been a better friend to the end.
Louis
Sally placed the note down on her lap and looked up at Mary Alice. Her tears were coming freely now, and Sally reached over and took her hand.
Chapter Thirty-four
… the summer of 1952.
George Hansen stopped the car on the street in front of the sheriff’s office and looked over at Jonathan who was holding a wet towel against the side of his face. He tried to call Sheriff Potts earlier, but he wasn’t in yet and when George explained what happened, the desk clerk told him to come down to the station and they would get the sheriff.
“You should wait here,” George said.
“Jonathan didn’t answer but turned and opened his door to get out.
George watched him struggle to walk, holding on to the car as he came around. “Maybe somebody inside can patch you up.”
The Summer Town Page 28