Cicada Summer

by Jeff Dosser

  He checked each of the park’s feeds a second time. There was nothing of use on any of them.

  Matt tapped his chin trying to think of some video or recording he may have missed. Then he remembered the bird count cameras for the Oklahoma University waterfowl study. Although they only captured stills and were halfway across the lake, they used high-quality cameras and might have picked something up.

  Matt remote-logged into the university website for the camera feeds and started paging through folders. He found one marked May 21st and opened it. Checking the timestamps on the images, he noticed the pictures were taken every twenty minutes. He opened all the files from dawn until ten a.m.

  The images were focused on the lake, but in the upper right-hand corner, the Calypso Cove parking lot was a gray smudge the size of his pinky. Matt’s shoulders sagged in frustration as he paged through the pics. There was no way he was going to see anything useful. The cameras were simply too far from the lot. Surprisingly, he noted a green square appear in the parking lot on the 7:40 a.m. image.

  He zoomed in, discovering the resolution of the photos was better than he’d hoped. The green smudge of an image, though horribly pixilated, was certainly that of a car. Since he knew the victim’s vehicle was an older model Subaru wagon, the shape of the image seemed to fit. However, without prior knowledge, the smudge could have been any of a dozen makes or models.

  He flipped through the photos until he opened one labeled 8:20 a.m. There was now a white box parked next to the victim’s green box. He zoomed in. He could tell it was a pickup, nothing more. There appeared to be someone standing next to the victim’s car, but it could have been a shadow. Matt copied the image and emailed it to himself. On the next picture, the truck was gone. He continued to search for another hour but other than the victim’s car, the lot was empty until Andy’s arrival at noon.

  Still, there was the question of the missing video. Matt sauntered down the hall to Rachael’s office. “Rachael, did you look at the Calypso Cove camera feeds?”

  She peered up from her computer. “What’s that? Calypso Cove. Oh…yeah. Someone must have turned those feeds off. I turned ’em back on.”

  Matt could swear she said she hadn’t looked at the feeds. That she’d simply pulled up the app. He ran his hand along his jaw, wondering if he’d misheard. “I pulled up the Calypso Cove feed and there was a month blank. I was just wondering.”

  “The recordings were turned off so I turned them back on,” she said. “What were you expecting to see anyway?”

  “Nothing,” Matt grinned. “I wanted to confirm when the victim showed up. The OHP guys wanted me to check.”

  He stepped into the hall just as Andy popped through the back door.

  “’Bout quittin’ time isn’t it?” Andy asked.

  Matt checked his watch and laughed. It was already after four. “You got that right, buddy. I think it’s about time for a beer.”

  Matt needed time to think on the Rusk woman’s death. Just like his mother’s drowning seventeen years earlier, there were things that didn’t add up. How did she get those claw-like scratches on her face? And who was the person in the white pickup? More importantly, did the mystery visitor have anything to do with what happened, or were they simply passing by?

  Chapter Seven

  “You think it was an allergic reaction that killed her?” Andy asked.

  Matt swirled the dark ale at the bottom of his glass and threw it back with a gulp. After the day he’d had, a trip to the Bison Bar had seemed in order. He didn’t have any trouble convincing Andy to join him. “Yeah. That’s gotta be what it was.”

  Andy’s eyes narrowed as he considered Matt over the lip of his glass. “You don’t sound convinced.”

  Matt glanced up and smiled. “No, you’re right. That’s exactly what it was. She was highly allergic to virtually everything, it’s the season for bee swarms. It was just the wrong girl in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nothing more.” Matt caught the waitress’ eye and pointed to his glass. She nodded and disappeared through a pair of paint-chipped swinging doors into the back.

  “I’m sure it’s just the eyes that are getting to me,” Matt said. “And the scratches on her face. Did the detectives say anything about those?”

  “Actually, they did,” Andy said. The waitress hustled up with another Ellie’s Brown Ale and poured the near black beverage into the glass with perfection, leaving only the tiniest head of foam.

  “I’ll take another too.” Andy’s eyes followed the waitress until she disappeared once again behind the doors. “Anyway, the detective said the wound was self-inflicted. She did it during the seizures.”

  Matt nodded and took a sip. He wiped away the foam that clung to his lip with the back of his hand and rested his elbows on the scratched wooden table. “I just got a weird feeling about it. Ya know?”

  Andy bobbed his head. “Yeah, I do know. It’s weird.”

  There was a long lull, the mumbling background of voices and clatter of plates seeming to crowd in around them.

  “Say. When was the last time you messed with the camera software?” Matt asked.

  Andy upended his glass and set it down with a thud. He squinted at Matt in confusion. “Camera software? What camera software?”

  “You know. The computer that runs all the cameras.” He could tell by Andy’s blank expression he wasn’t cluing in. “It records video from all around the park, boat docks, parking lots, the front of the office.”

  Andy nodded in understanding. “Oh, those. I haven’t touched those since orientation. In fact, I don’t think I could find the right application if I wanted.” He glanced around for the waitress but she was busy taking an order from an older couple in the corner. “Why do you ask? You think there’s something on one of the cameras that might be important?”

  “Naw.” Matt shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “I was trying to look at the recordings today and the video for the Calypso Cove parking lot was gone. Or not gone, never recorded.”

  The waitress dropped off Andy’s beer and left them the tab. “Thanks for coming in guys,” she smiled. “My shift’s over, so Candice will be helping you the rest of the night.”

  Matt eyed the bill and dropped three tens on the table. “I think this was our last round,” he said. “Keep the change.”

  She scooped up the cash and grinned. “Thanks. You two have a great night.”

  “Thanks, Matt.” Andy’s eyes followed the waitress across the room. “I’ll buy lunch tomorrow.”

  Matt laughed. “I’ve got the next two days off, but I’m not forgettin’ you owe me.”

  * * * *

  The next morning, Matt woke at his usual 5:30 a.m., slipped on his running shoes and went for a jog. His was one of three rooms renovated and converted to apartments, on the second floor above Thunderbird Falls Vintage and Sundries, one of the town’s most popular and quaint antique stores. In the last five years, Thunderbird Falls’ downtown district had become a go-to place for Alsuma shoppers hunting for unique antiques or deals on fix up furnishings.

  The Vintage and Sundries could be noisy on weekends when buyers flooded the streets in shiny SUVs and oversized pickups. Since he worked most Saturdays and Sundays, it never posed a problem. On the plus side, the downtown district was quiet in the evenings and his apartment was stunningly cool, a wide, open studio with dazzling hardwoods and a wall of glass overlooking the brick-lined main street.

  He set the timer on his watch and loped off at a slow, easy pace heading east towards the railroad tracks. He couldn’t get the image of the Rusk woman’s face out of his mind. It was so similar to the memory he held of his mother lying there on the cold, metal bench. He hadn’t thought about her death in years. Not in more than a vague fashion. It was something unpleasant that had happened, something he’d had to suffer through. He preferred remembering the good times with his mom, not their last, horrible encounter.

  He trotted across the tracks spanning Main Street, dodg
ed a pothole near Seminole and turned onto Osage Drive. On his right, he passed rows of worn, single story homes, on his left the sky had lightened from pale pinks and purples to a bright honey gold. The sun’s first tentative fingers plucked at the tops of the pines lining the open pastures as cows lowed their morning salutations.

  So what was it that was bothering him so much about that woman’s death? He just couldn’t put his finger on it. By the time he was sprinting the final quarter mile back to his apartment, he was more perplexed than when he’d started.

  Matt stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist and flicked on the coffee maker. He turned on his computer and pulled up the Google search page. In a few clicks of the keyboard he was reading the article in the Alsuma paper about his mother’s death. Back then it was front page news.

  A photo of a state park boat with two rangers helping a black suited diver onto the back skids was printed above the article. The caption read:

  Local Artist Latest Death In Tragic Summer.

  Matt remembered seeing the article but had never read it. Until now.

  The body of Thunderbird Falls painter and sculptor, Joanna Holmes, was discovered early Sunday morning by OHP divers, state park officials reported. Holmes had gone missing following a jet-ski accident on Lake Thunderbird Falls five days prior.

  According to dive team leader, Sam Holtz, despite wearing a life vest, Ms. Holmes became trapped beneath submerged branches in low water and drowned.

  Her death is the fifth this summer at Lake Thunderbird Falls, an unprecedented number given the size of the park. These tragic deaths do not include missing teens Hannah Myers and Daniel Front whose car was discovered abandoned near Calypso Cove on Saturday, July 17th, nor the unexplained disappearance of Mr. Joseph Meeks, a fifty-five-year-old resident of Thunderbird Falls. Both investigations are still underway.

  Park supervisor, Gerald Smith, told Alsuma World that the number of deaths this season is due to the high number of park visitors compared to prior years. He recommended additional rangers be assigned to the park to ensure the safety of guests.

  Except for the murder/suicide of Lacy and Jim Bennett on the July fourth weekend, all other deaths were ruled accidental. The victims and the cause of their death are presented below:

  May 30th: Dennis Vaughn (Age 51) Boating accident.

  June 15th: Carrie Washington (Age 68) Accidental drowning.

  August 20th: Joanna Holmes (Age 34) Accidental drowning.

  Matt glanced at the coffee pot chuffing out the last of the coffee. Steam cascaded from the top and the room filled with the rich aroma of pumpkin spice, Matt’s favorite blend.

  He poured himself a cup, splashed in milk until the swirling surface turned a light tan, and then slipped into shorts and a tee shirt and dropped back in front of the monitor. He stared at the article and took a tentative sip. Still too hot. He sat the cup down and typed in: Missing teens Hanna Myers Daniel Front.

  The first hit on the Google search caught his attention:

  Bodies of Missing Teens Located In State Park

  The article was dated 2002, three years after the kids had gone missing. Matt clicked on the link.

  Today investigators announced that remains discovered inside Lake Thunderbird Falls State Park have been identified as those of Hannah Myers and Daniel Front. The two seventeen-year-olds were reported missing on July 17th, 1999.

  Their bodies were discovered just fifty yards from where Front’s car was found abandoned three years prior. State park representatives stated that hikers discovered a skull along the Calypso Cove trail three weeks ago. A search by authorities located both bodies in thick brush three yards from the trail.

  Matt took another sip and set the mug down. A deep rumble, more felt than heard, announced the opening of Vintage and Sundries’ garage door. Every day at exactly 8:30, except Sunday and Monday, his downstairs neighbors Carl and Ida Worth rolled into their shop and set out their ‘Open’ sign.

  Matt typed in the first name on the list of deaths in that 1999 summer: Dennis Vaughn. Then he added: boating accident.

  He clicked through several unrelated links until he found what he wanted. It was an Alsuma Times Article dated May 8, 1999.

  Lake Thunderbird Falls authorities have identified the body of Alsuma resident, Dennis Vaughn, found floating in twenty feet of water early Tuesday afternoon. Park authorities said Friday that Vaughn’s body had been discovered along the shore near the Denver Corners boat ramp. Vaughn had been reported missing after falling off a fishing boat April 30th.

  Matt noted a link to the man’s obituary and clicked it. Turned out the guy was some kind of war hero. Served with the 101st Airborne in Vietnam. He’d racked up three purple hearts during his tour of service and even fought at the battle of Hamburger hill. Matt remembered the movie about that battle well. He’d watched it when he was fourteen with his pal, Blake Taylor.

  Since he’d come this far, Matt typed in the woman’s name as well: Carrie Washington Accidental drowning Thunderbird Falls.

  And hit the return key.

  The faint, throaty tones of Michael Bublé seeped through the floorboards as Ida and Carl opened up for business and the search results populated his screen. He was surprised to discover Mrs. Washington had been something of a local celebrity. In her youth, she’d worked as a dancer in Hollywood during the heyday of the late forties and early fifties. She’d also been cast in several movies with big name stars including Fred Astaire in some flick called ‘Royal Wedding.’

  Matt discovered poor Carrie’s body had been mutilated after her death. Both her legs amputated, presumably by a motorboat prop, prior to the discovery of her corpse days after she’d gone missing.

  Matt shook his head and drained the last of the coffee and logged out. He’d had enough of death. It was a beautiful day, expected to warm into a beautiful afternoon. He eyed his clubs leaning in the corner. With any luck, he could walk on at the Western Valley golf course and get in nine holes. Then he would call Colleen and see if she was up for dinner.

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