THE
SILVER
LAKE
MURDER
A NOVEL
GREGG MATTHEWS
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2021
ISBN 978-1-63877-536-2
Boston Massachusetts
Copyright © 2021 by Gregg Matthews
This novel takes place in the summertime at Silver Lake, north of Boston, Massachusetts. Silver Lake is a fictional place. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Principal Characters
Blake
Rose
Billy
Cindy
Ray
Kelly
Luke
Pete
Other Characters
Lester
Kevin
Tracy
Shannon
Megan
Shawn
Pierre
Caleb
Dylan
Nola
Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 1
Silver Lake north of Boston Massachusetts
Blake Rivers has been driving all night and into the next day. The clock on the dashboard says 8:00 a.m. He knows yesterday was July 4th, he saw a lot of bursting fireworks against the dark skies while he was driving last night.
When he looks in the rearview mirror, he can see red lines racing across the whitebase of his eyes. Around the edges are also red. His eyelids close like heavy steel doors, but he catches himself before he dozes off. Taking the small amount of water in the water bottle next to him, he splashes himself in the face. This helps briefly, to shock his system into staying awake.
Knowing he is going to need to stop driving soon. His hands are both on the steering wheel at ten and two o’clock. More like he is hanging on to, than steering a car. His arms are sore and being held in place by his grip on the steering wheel. His mouth is dry and void of any moisture. He looks at several empty water bottles on the floor of the passenger seat. He knows there are some on the back-seat floor as well. His stomach groans. He presses on the accelerator and keeps driving for now.
The big old car has completed the journey. He is surprised the car has held together this long. He can smell exhaust fumes and knows the smell is not good. The fumes have been prevalent for the last few days. He can see a slight wisp of steam coming out over the hood on the front of the car. He looks down at the gauges and is surprised to see there are no warning lights. Most of the gauges are signaling to him everything is OK. One of the gauges has an orange line close to the capital E. A hint of antifreeze is in the air but it’s not the first time he has had that smell, in this car. He looks at the radio but doesn’t have the strength to turn it back on.
The Exit 12 sign is up ahead. He turns his blinker on. Every time the blinker blinks, a slow, dull sound echoes in his mind. He glides the car down to the end of the off-ramp and stops at the stop sign. He can hear some hissing sounds, like a rattlesnake makes before it strikes, and knows it something wet dripping on hot metal in the engine. With his right hand, he lifts the blinker up, signaling he is turning right onto Route 38. Looking at the signs telling him where he is, it still doesn’t register as reality in his mind.
Putting his right hand over the vent, he can feel the warm air blowing out. From the console on the driver’s side door, he opens the window and breathes in the fresh northern air. The air wakes him up a little. The scenery is familiar to him. Tall pine trees are on both sides of the road. Deep rich forest, green is the dominant color in the forefront, with golden sunshine fighting its way through the trees. He remembers when summertime gives way to fall, multiple colors appear on the trees and bushes; and how the colors always attracted people to the area north of Boston, Massachusetts. He has worked hard to forget all the violence he experienced in Silver Lake; another reason he and Rose left a few years ago.
He always preferred the summer himself. The idea of summertime all year long is the main reason he and Rose left Boston and moved to New Orleans several years ago. When he and Rose left Boston, they both swore they never would come back. The weather in New Orleans is warm, and always feels like summer time. He and Rose had Rivers Tattoo shop up and running on Bourbon Street. Getting the tattoo shop established took everything he and Rose had. After a few years, the shop was turning a profit.
Always being passionate about his artwork when he was younger, he turned his passion into tattooing. He found tattooing as a way of making money at an early age. Rose ran the business. Posting videos, texting, advertising, and taking care of the money. He and Rose were living a good life before Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans more than several months ago. All he has is a sweaty wad of cash in his right front pocket.
Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans and wiped out the city. When all hell broke loose, he and Rose were separated, and he has not seen her in months. He has checked all of her social media sites, and there has been no activity for months. His heart sinks after the last thought. He buries his emotions deep down inside. He wonders if he will ever see her again.
Rose has long, straight dark hair, dark eyes with a beautiful face belonging on the cover of a magazine. She is petite, lightly tanned, five feet tall. When she wears a dress,most if not everyone in the room stops to look at her. She is the sweetest human being hehas ever met. He and Rose have been together since the day they met in elementary school and have been inseparable since. She has the aura of someone famous, but she is not. She is from Silver Lake, north of Boston, MA.
When he sees a woman who he thinks might be her, he runs up to check, but it’s never her and he’s starting to suspect the worst. But he doesn’t want to give up. He thought maybe she came back here to Boston. His mind wanders, thinking about the events forcing him to come back here. He has trouble processing the information of the past few months. He hopes he is having a bad dream and will wake up soon. He turns right and presses on the accelerator again.
Reading the first sign sends chills up and down his spine, Entering the Lakes Region. He starts to panic a little. Looking in the rearview mirror, he can see moisture has appeared on his forehead. His face is also wet and clammy. He rolls the window downmore.
As if in slow motion, he can feel Route 38 pulling him back into the violence and drama of Silver Lake. He pulls the car over and sits on the shoulder of the road. He thinks about why he is here. He is here because he cannot find his girlfriend, Rose. He thinks she may have come back here to find him. There is one way to find out if she is here. He has to go back to Silver Lake and find out if anyone has seen her. He press
es his right foot on the accelerator, causing the back tires to spin in the dirt, pulling the car back onto the pavement. His mind wanders, and he struggles to keep his eyes open.
Both eyelids are heavy and closing; it’s been a long night. The bump in the road causes his head to jerk back, and all he can see are bright red brake lights. The sight of the brake lights on the car in front of him causes him to press his right and left foot on the brake pedal as hard as he can. The car locks up and stops short of the rear end of the car in front of him. He sees the baby on board sign moving back and forth in the rear window. There are red brake lights as far as he can see. The traffic is at a standstill. He takes a minute to compose himself. Jesus.
Looking up ahead to the left through the woods, he can see the color blue mixed in with the color gold through the green trees. This is the first time he has seen Silver Lake in several years. The traffic in front of him moves slowly up Route 38 running across the front of Silver Lake. The further up the road he gets, the more of the lake he will see. Time goes by, and he creeps his way up Route 38. The lake is coming into view.
From growing up here, he knows all there is to know about the Lake. Silver Lake is one hundred acres in size and fifty feet deep at the center. The lake is an oval shape with a cove in the back. The cove is called Cripple Cove.
Cripple Cove was named by the locals. The locals who didn’t pay their debt to the bookie, drug dealer, or whatever else the root cause of the dispute was, would meet at Cripple Cove. The disagreement was settled there. Years ago, a local man had a dispute over drugs and money. He was beaten by a motorcycle gang so badly, he was crippled. Cripple Cove.
There is an island in the middle of the lake, it is the size of two football fields side by side. The island has an official name on the map but is known by the locals as Little Rock Island. The island was named, because it is surrounded by little rocks. There is always a group of locals standing around a bonfire, drinking. In the winter, the bonfire keeps the locals warm, and in the summer, the bonfire keeps the mosquitoes away. If you are drinking on the island, the local police will not bother you. It’s a Silver Lake rule.
Every summer, one of the local kids tries to swim out to the island, falls short, and drowns. Every winter, one of the local kids decides to go ice fishing, falls through the ice, and drowns. One winter, the local police were able to save one of the kids who fell through the ice—his childhood friend Billy Flynn.
Every spring, the local police pull stolen cars and trucks out of the lake one at a time. The insurance companies for the local residents finally smartened up and will not pay a claim on a stolen or lost vehicle until after the spring.
Chemicals from industrial companies from the 1960s and 1970s were dumped in the lake water, polluting it for years. The Environmental Protection Agency showed up, and after years of cleaning and drudging the lake, the water has been clean for years. They stock the lake with bass, pickerel, and trout. The wildlife in and around the lake has been back for years. The locals are very happy about that.
Getting close to the front of the lake, he can see blue and red flashing lights. Like something you would see from a police cruiser. He wonders if an accident might be the root cause of the backup. The car creeps forward. The front of the lake is coming intoview. He notices a new sign sticking up over the cars in the front of the lake. The sign is large and white, with blue letters spelling out, Welcome to Silver Lake. The sign has something colored red sprayed viciously across the front. Vandalism? As his car creeps closer to the sign, he can see a large group of pedestrians gathering around the sign. The police officer’s cruiser is off to the side.
The car he is slowly driving is now parallel with the sign. The traffic has stopped him right in front of the sign. He looks out the rolled-down window of his car and takes in the scene. He can hear people screaming.
“Oh my God!” one woman screams.
“Hey officer, what happened?” a man shouts!
The pedestrians are crouched over, looking at the ground under the sign. He looks under the sign as well, he can see what everyone is looking at. There is a white sheet about six feet long on the ground. The word Human is written in black letters on the side of the sheet. As he is looking over at the white sheet, chills run up his spine, and down his arms and legs, his whole body goes numb. As if in slow motion, he can see the hair on the top of everyone’s head all going in the same direction. A warm summer breeze comes across the top of the lake. The wind blows the white sheet up in the air exposing what is under the sheet. He can hear the crowd of pedestrians scream in unison.
“Oh my God!” the crown of pedestrians screams.
Before the sheet floats back down, he sees what is under the sheet; he cannot believe his eyes. There is a young, golden blond-haired woman lying under the sheet. Her face and body are bruised and battered, her clothes are ripped, torn, and she is covered in blood.
Her face and eyes are looking right at him. He thinks if she was alive, she would tell him what happened.
Shifting his focus, he makes eye contact with the police officer, who he recognizes from when they were kids. His name comes to mind, Ray McCrery. Ray is wearing a policeman’s hat. His hair is short and cannot be seen under the hat. He is wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses. He has a toothpick in his mouth. He is healthy and in good physical shape. His uniform is clean and tight-fitting. Parts of his uniform are darker in color under the arms, back, and chest. He is walking around the crime scene calmly.
Ray waves his hand, getting Blake’s attention. Pulling his car over to the right shoulder of Route 38, he quickly exits the vehicle. Taking a minute to get through the traffic, he walks hurriedly across the street to Ray.
“Ray?” Blake shouts.
“Blake?” Ray says, turning his head from the crime scene.
He and Ray walk around to the front of the car. Ray is standing in front of him unfolding a black heavy-duty body bag. Ray is a little taller in height than Blake.
“Blake, I can talk to you for a quick minute. You are not supposed to be here.”
“Right.”
“Blake, It's Cindy Flynn,” Ray says calmly.
“Cindy Flynn,” Blake says in slow motion, holding back a flood of emotions.
“What are you doing here, Blake? I haven’t seen you in a few years.”
“Ah, there was a hurricane. Me and Rose were separated. I thought she may havecome back here. Have you seen her?” Blake says with a hopeful look in his eyes.
“Negative. I haven’t seen her since the two of you left for New Orleans.”
“Right.”
“Listen, you have to get back into your car. We can talk later.”
“Thanks, Ray.”
Working his way through the traffic and back to his car, he watches as the police officer points to the woman under the sheet, trying to keep the crowd of people back. The traffic clears up a little as he passes the sign. He tries to process everything he saw. He soon realizes he is being pulled back into his old life and problems of Silver Lake.
Looking in the rearview mirror at the fading image of the crowd of people, the police officer, the new sign, and Cindy Flynn lying dead in the street. He is going to have to find out what happened, and who he is going to make pay for what they did to Cindy. Welcome home, Blake.
CHAPTER 2
Blake gets a late start on the day. He slept in his car last night on a dirt road by the water. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard he reads 12:00 noon. He is behind the wheel of his car. Before he turns the ignition key to start the engine. He takes a minute to try to process everything he saw yesterday. The sight of Cindy Flynn lying dead in the street is not the way he wants to remember her. His mind is having trouble digesting what he saw.
He is angry and at the same time relieved. Angry he saw his childhood friend dead in the streets of Silver Lake. Relieved from the brief thought the young woman dead in the streets was Rose. Chills run up and down his spine at the last thought. Does this make me
a bad person?
Flashes of a young beautiful Cindy Flynn dance across his mind. Her long golden blond hair flows through the air from the warm summer breeze. The sun is shining and Silver Lake is in the background. Cindy is laughing and smiling. That is how he wants to remember her. He holds on to the memory of Cindy as hard as he can.
Shaking off the last thought he needs to continue his search for Rose. He wants to go to some of the places he and Rose used to go. With the hope she will be at one of them. There is a small secluded manmade beach he and Rose used to meet at. The name of the beach is Town Beach. Town Beach is tucked in a small cove to the right side of the lake.
Getting himself ready for the day, he steps out of the car and opens the trunk reorganizing some clothes and tools. He has some small trash bags; he needs to discard when he gets a chance. He throws on a fresh T-shirt to start his day. He pulls his long, curly brown hair back into a ponytail. Boots and jeans have been on for a couple of days. Grabbing a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a bottle of water. He combines the three components, brushing his teeth. He spits out the backwash and closes the trunk. He sits in the driver's seat again.
Turning the ignition key to the on position, he starts the engine. He drives the car down the long winding dirt roads of Silver Lake. He can see the sunshine peeking in through the trees. He puts his aviator sunglasses on. This time of year, the trees and bushes are at their growth peaks. Long leafy branches hangover, shading the dirt road. Flashes of blue lake water peek out through the trees as well. The familiarity of his surroundings is making him more comfortable about being home.
Up ahead, he can see the opening for the Town Beach parking lot. He pulls the car into the dirt and crushed stone parking lot. He parks the car as close to the water as he can. He looks around the beach area for the first time in a few years. In the parking lot, there are several sixty-gallon drum barrels overflowing with trash and empty beer bottles. He sees one of the trash barrels has a little room. He removes the trash from his trunk and puts it into the barrel.
The Silver Lake Murder Page 1