“Maybe old Frank is having a little fun with us?”
“No--,” I tapped my fingers upon the counter, “The last thing that he wants is anyone having any doubts about this place.”
The rain thundered upon the metal roof as the sounds of a leak in the shadows drew our attention to the rear of the building.
“I guess that time and the weather is slowly winning.” Rich pointed to where the rain came in through a rusted edge in the ceiling, and running along the structural beam, dripped into a large puddle before us.
“I’m starting to believe that there’s a lot more going on around here than just time and the weather….”
Nodding, Rich had nervously looked toward the little window. The rain offering a blurred and dark impression of the adjoining building, “I want to get back into that boat-house and take a good look at that old yacht.”
“Well, we better be quick about it.” A shudder ran the course of my spine as I looked down at my wrist watch, realizing the time, “It’s already after three. We’ll be losing the light soon and we don’t need old Frank coming down here to check up on us.”
Rich pulled a hand-radio from an inner pocket of his vest and winked, “Scott will be calling to touch base from time to time. That way we can keep track of Frank without him catching on.”
“Brilliantly done, that will buy us some time.” Pausing in the doorway, I looked back at my friend, “But to be honest, I feel like a criminal doing things this way.”
“Sometimes you have to be a snake to catch one.” Rich cursed under his breath, gesturing at the counter, “Let’s get back into our gear and get over to the boat-house.”
The rain had become an absolute torrent. Struggling through the flood, we hurried across the slippery dock. We had barely reached the door to the boat-house when a rumbling sound drew our attention out and onto the lake. It was a small boat with a single passenger. A man who struggled, bailing water from the craft, as he was tossed about upon the churning waves!
“Oh my God, he’s not going to make it!” Rich pointed as the failing craft, still some hundred yards off shore, slipped ever downward and into the raging waters! Panicking, we searched the dock, locating a small row-boat that rested over-turned upon the dock near the boat-house. Dragging it to the water’s edge and without concern for our own well-being, we launched the craft and leapt aboard! Grabbing the oars, we began pulling for all that we were worth! As between the violent waves and blinding rain, we struggled toward the other craft!
The wind howled like some monstrous thing as our boat began to take on water. Being tossed about like a toy and fighting every stroke of the way, we saw that the other boat had already gone down! The lone occupant clinging desperately to what remained!
“We’re taking on too much water!” Rich wailed, “We’re going to sink!”
Looking over my shoulder and to where the stranger fought for his very life, I cursed aloud, “Let’s get to him first, and then worry about the rest!”
With every effort that carried us further out and farther away from shore, my heart pounded with utter and complete terror! I realized that our valiant effort might very well result in the deaths of us all! But ever onward and further through the wind, rain and waves we struggled!
The boat had become a quarter-filled, as between the endless rain and flooding waves the lake battered against our little craft! There was little to be seen of the other boat now, but the flailing figure in the raging foam!
By some miracle or twist of fate we managed to catch the man a moment before he lost his grip! We fought desperately to pull him aboard, fearing to tip our own failing craft in the process! But somehow we managed, as gasping and heaving, he crawled onto the bench beside me. Taking hold of an oar, he looked to Rich, shouting, “Bail lad, bail for all that you’re worth!”
We began rowing back toward the shore as Rich, cupping his hands, desperately fought to bail out the water!
The stranger was a large and middle-aged man, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested. He was clean-shaven and short-haired, and rowed with the power of a bull. His bright blue eyes alert, he was determined and appeared without fear. I felt confident in his presence, and though the wind, rain and waves threatened our very lives, somehow knew that we would make it!
The lake desperately fought to drag us down, the enormous waves flowing over the sides, filling the boat as we wailed, fighting for our lives! I had never before been so terrified of drowning, as looking into the mouth of the beast, I could see our ending. Crushed beneath the waves and swallowed into the depths, we hung suspended, drifting ever downward. Forever lost into that icy darkness from where none had ever returned!
“Row, row, put your back into it!” He bellowed, our little craft sailing through the waters as we crashed and came to rest upon the rocks. Soaking wet and gasping for breath, we had all scrambled from the little boat and onto the shore.
And then, in a moment of utter exhaustion but sheer gratitude and relief, the stranger had moved closer. Forcing some twisted semblance of a smile through the storm, “I can’t thank you both enough, you saved my life out there--,” The big man extended a hand as we collapsed on the shore, “The name’s Ronnie Macintosh. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Rich had just looked over at me, both of us astonished as another ghost of camp Fleetwood B now returned….
Chapter Five
Frank had appeared almost speechless when we had returned with our guest. After changing clothes and taking some hot tea, we sat near the fire, shivering and attempting to shake the bitter chill. The afternoon had become considerably darker and as the rain continued, I felt a strange sense of impending doom. When the generator failed and all fell into shadow, we had simply looked upon one another. Between the howling of the wind and the unrelenting hammering of the rain, the little fire had become our only source of comfort. Scott had suggested that we bring equipment from out of the truck. Both Red Cloud and Rich had strongly protested, insisting that we would not be remaining much longer anyway. I had agreed without much thought, sensing or simply suspecting that with the arrival of Ronnie, the tides were about to turn. None of us had to wait very long to confirm this feeling. As between expressions of obvious discomfort and side glances bordering on aggression, the tension swiftly grew.
“I never expected to see you here again.” Frank said in a tone that vividly expressed his aversion to the other man. There had been an awkward exchange of glances. It was something that I might have expected between a cobra and a mongoose, moments before the first strike.
But Ronnie had held his composure. Leaning back in his seat beside the fire, he looked to Frank, muttering in a rather sarcastic manner, “I was about to say the same of you. I wouldn’t have come, but after I heard about old Jake’s passing and your sudden interest in the place, I had to have a look for myself.”
“It’s strictly business--,” Frank scoffed, “Family business to be exact, which has nothing to do with you.”
Ronnie moved suddenly and Frank cowered in his seat! The big man moving and towering over him! His face flushed with color, eyes red and expression fierce, he had pointed a finger at the old man’s face. We had all thought that he might simply beat the old man within an inch of his life! But Ronnie maintained that same calm, “If its family business, then it has everything to do with me. So, tell me Frank, what exactly did you have in mind for the old place?”
The two men were so vastly different that I could immediately understand what Red Cloud had meant within their description. It was like two opposing forces, and we were now caught between them. I was half expecting some kind of ugly family disagreement and nasty display of aggression. But rather than fight, the fire seemed to go out of the old man as he quietly submitted.
“Well, since Jake’s gone--,” Frank appeared hesitant, but spoke with a certain confidence, “And we lost Harold in an accident, I thought I’d make the best of a bad thing and develop the property.”
“Harold had
an accident?” Ronnie appeared shocked and suspicious at the same time, as returning to his seat near the hearth, he asked, “What happened?”
“He was servicing a fork-lift—the hydraulics failed--,” Frank took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling ever so slowly, and looked down, “The forks came down on him. He was killed instantly….”
Red Cloud, Scott and Rich had all looked over at me. Had the story changed? Or had Frank simply offered Ronnie a more detailed explanation.
“Either way--,” Frank sighed, peering back at Ronnie, “Being the last surviving blood-relative, I inherited this place.”
“Oh—is that so? I suppose that you neglected to check into that with the courts first.” Ronnie drew a plastic bag from the breast pocket of his shirt, and opening and removing a document from within, said, “Because, this document states that, being his legally adopted son through marriage, I am entitled to the property as well.”
Frank’s eyes became huge, as moving from his seat and gingerly taking hold of the document, he closely examined the contents. His eyes flashing between Ronnie and the page until satisfied, he handed it back and grumbled, “Alright then, how much do you want?”
Ronnie chuckled to himself, as looking down in thought, he peered back at Frank, “I thought that you knew me better than that, Frank. I didn’t come back here for money. I came back here for answers….”
Red Cloud stiffened in his seat, his expression solemn as he looked over at me. I knew that look, which was also why my hand slipped into a coat pocket and fingers touched the tape recorder….
“What do you want from me?” Frank lit another cigarette and, making his way toward the window, looked out into the growing shadows.
“I have a few questions, things that have been bothering me for a very long time. Answer them, and I’ll be out of your way, once and for all.”
“What about the property?” Frank glared back at the younger man.
“I could care less about this damned place.” Ronnie spat, “Too much blood has been spilled here. I wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole.”
“Oh, spare me the damn drama.” Frank cursed under his breath, “Just ask what you will—and let’s be done with this nonsense.”
There was a moment of silence as thunder rolled in the distance and the rain seemed to slow.
The tension was so thick that you could have cut it with a knife. And then, thinking briefly, Ronnie looked back to Frank and solemnly asked, “What really happened out there on the lake that day, with Sherry Campbell?”
Frank appeared as though he had swallowed a hot coal. His mouth gaping, and eyes wide, he was stiffening at the mere mention of the name. A moment later he regained his composure, waving a hand as though to swat away an insect, and said, “You all damn-well knew what happened. It was a boating accident—she drowned.”
“Well, tell me this, Frank.” Ronnie dropped another log into the hearth, jabbing at it with a poker, and said, “You knew that she couldn’t swim. And, you also knew that the young couple with you were both strong swimmers. Why didn’t you give her a life jacket?”
Frank responded by glaring about the room, his eyes falling upon each and every one of us, as being a captive audience, we did not say or do anything.
“Hell, I don’t know, we never thought about it at the time.” Frank was becoming swiftly angered, his eyes staring wide, as he looked to Ronnie, “This all came up at the inquest, why the hell are you dragging it out again?”
“Because, Frank--,” Ronnie slammed a fist down upon the table, causing everyone to jump and become utterly still, “You forced me to testify on your behalf. Even when we knew that she was four months pregnant with your baby. Only a complete and utter moron would ever believe that her death was an accident!”
Frank choked on his cigarette-smoke, backing against the window, as he now faced Ronnie who was shouting at the man. Pointing an accusing finger into the old man’s face, he said, “You forced me to defend a murderer in court! You made me lie to protect you! How many others have you killed out on that lake, Frank, how many?”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re blabbering about!” The old man shouted, waving a hand around the room, “So, if you’re going to come around here and start slandering me in front of people, you better have a damned good lawyer!”
“Slander—is that what you said?” Ronnie barked back, “Slander is only what someone without evidence does. I’m not that person…. You want to involve the law? Then let’s do it—right now! Let’s all get into those vehicles out there and roll right on into town to the police station.”
There was a moment of absolute stillness as Frank, trembling uncontrollably, could only stare. I had looked to my friends, but utterly horrified by the incriminating evidence, we all remained silent.
“My step-father Jake was a good man, an honest man.” Ronnie spoke to us as though appealing to a jury, pointing at Frank, as he said, “He built the roads through here and provided the lumber that built most of the surrounding towns. He was loved by everyone who knew him, and respected by anyone that ever worked for him. But old Frank knew his one weakness. So, whenever he got the chance, he would come up to camp with a few cases of Whiskey and drink with Jake until the devil came out of them both.”
“I never forced him to do anything that he didn’t want!”
Ronnie raised a fist, barely managing to hold his temper, “And then, when poor old Jake was so drunk that he was down for days at a time, Frank had rule of the roost. He would take young girls out onto the lake, get them drunk, and have his way with them. They were too ashamed to tell anyone. And the ones that he suspected might talk, well, they just disappeared….”
“That’s a load of bullshit and you know it!” Frank became livid, his eyes burning with a sudden rage. But the moment passed swiftly as Ronnie stomped right over toward the old man who leapt back, shielding himself with both arms.
“Nine young girls from town simply just vanished over a period of a year.” Ronnie continued, “And the one thing that they all had in common other than living here was they all knew you. And don’t try to deny it. I spoke to their families and even their boyfriends. One of the boyfriends even got a job here in the hopes of possibly finding something out. But he got too close, didn’t he Frank? And that’s when poor Tony had that accident and was killed by a forklift that your son was operating at the time!”
Frank just stared, appearing more like a cornered animal than a man. I had looked to my companions, but all stood silent, shocked. Red Cloud had remained solemn, just motioning for all of us to remain calm as the scene played out.
“None of the missing girls’ bodies were ever found.” Ronnie announced, appearing as judge, jury and executioner as he motioned with a hand back at Frank, “Some would have you believe that they were lost in the lake. Drowning victims, just like poor little Sherry Campbell.” He stared back at Frank, and grinning cruelly, slowly nodded, “But none of them died in the lake, did they, Frank?”
Frank remained utterly silent, his body as rigid as stone as he stood against the window ledge, his features drawn long but not revealing a single sign of emotion.
“You know, it took me many years to finally figure it out.” Ronnie looked around our little group, “He never gave a damn about this place. He didn’t care about his poor brother Jake, his son, me or anyone else. So, when I heard that he was coming back here, I knew that there must have been some reason. Something important enough to force him to return ….”
“He did not bring us here as some promotional attempt or advertisement.” Red Cloud suddenly swallowed hard, his eyes huge with the realization.
“No--,” Ronnie solemnly gazed upon us all, and quietly said, “He brought you all here to conceal his actions while he attempted to hide the evidence, the bodies of nine murdered girls.”
“This is all utter bullshit!” Frank shrieked, leaping away from Ronnie and pleading, he appealed to all of us, “This man is out of his mind, and
obviously trying to ruin my reputation and business!”
“If what you say is true--,” Red Cloud politely addressed Ronnie, “Then where is the evidence that you speak of?”
Ronnie turned to look upon Frank, a cold determination flashing within his eyes, “We always had kegs of beer in the canteen. You remember, don’t you, Frank?”
Red Cloud frowned, looking toward Frank as Ronnie explained, “Old Louis, our camp cook, complained to me that the empty barrels kept going missing.”
Frank appeared calm, cold and collected. But his eyes darted about the room like a fox seeking shelter from the hounds.
“You mean that poor cook who shot himself in his cabin, after killing his wife and her lover.” Rich intervened.
“Poor old Louis never shot himself in his cabin and he never killed anyone else.” Ronnie frowned, slowly shaking his head, “It was common knowledge all over camp that his wife was unfaithful. Eventually, she packed her things and left him and the camp. That very same day, poor old Louis went down to the canteen and ended his life at the end of a double-barrel shotgun.”
Rich had looked over at me, both of us realizing why we had not sensed anything at the cabin.
“Then why did Frank tell us a different story?” Scott appeared angered with the obvious betrayal.
“My guess would be that he didn’t want you figuring out the truth.” Ronnie nodded at the old man, “Louis couldn’t have killed his wife’s lover, or old Frank would not be standing here today.”
My loathing for the man had exceeded all others, as looking to Ronnie, I said, “What about the empty and missing beer kegs that you mentioned?”
“At the time it had never occurred to me.” Ronnie thought aloud, “You couldn’t bury anything around here with all the lumber equipment and constant excavating. So, if you wanted to hide something, you would have needed a way to store it. And put it someplace private, quiet, where no one else ever went….”
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