Summit Lake

by Charlie Donlea

  She was getting closer to the mystery here in Summit Lake, but stepping back the unknowns to reveal the truth about Becca Eckersley’s death required Kelsey to span large gaps she couldn’t fill on her own. Becca’s parents were working to keep details of the case quiet, and now Kelsey confirmed that Becca, too, was keeping secrets. That she was married was one of them. That she was pregnant was another, and certainly enough to explain why Becca wanted her parents in the dark about her marriage.

  After a few minutes, the orange glow ended. The water foamed and frothed in the area under the falls, then sat quiet and still a short distance away as the lagoon reflected the cotton-ball clouds. Mist coated the moss that clung to the side of the mountain.

  “I see you’ve become a fan.”

  Kelsey turned and saw Rae standing behind her. Her face was red from her jog through the canopied forest.

  Kelsey smiled. “Really beautiful here.”

  Almost before she could finish her sentence, Rae hugged her. Kelsey stood still for a few seconds and then slowly wrapped her arms around Rae. “You okay?”

  Rae held her for a long time before she squeezed one last time and let go. “I’m fine,” Rae said. “But I should have given you that the other morning. It’s what friends do when they tell each other personal, private stuff that’s hard to talk about. They hug each other and support each other, and I wish I’d done it the other morning, but you caught me off guard when you told me about . . . what happened to you.”

  Kelsey swallowed hard, surprised to be so moved by the gesture. Perhaps it was because Rae was the first person—besides a brief and uncomfortable conversation with Penn Courtney—to acknowledge her situation and comfort her.

  “Thank you,” Kelsey said. Her eyes were watery and she blinked to contain the tears. “You’re a good person, Rae. And a good friend. I’m really glad I met you.”

  Rae smiled. “Feeling’s mutual. Come on, let’s dunk our feet.”

  Kelsey followed Rae to the lagoon and they both sat at the water’s edge, on top of large boulders embedded in the ground around the lagoon. They unlaced their running shoes and plunged their feet into the water.

  “Why is the water so warm?” Kelsey asked.

  “Natural springs. It bubbles up from deep underground where it’s warmed. Without the waterfall, the lagoon would be too hot. The water from up top is ice-cold, mixes with the hot stuff, and this is the result. People swim here year-round, even when it’s snowing and the surface is steaming.” Rae leaned back to look up at the falls, stared for several seconds before she continued. “I walk down here sometimes after the morning rush. Kind of catch my breath and clear my head. Over time I’ve learned this is a great place to sort out my feelings. If I could look down on myself sometimes, I think my face might look like yours does now.”

  “How do I look?” Kelsey asked.

  “Preoccupied,” Rae said. “Those big brown eyes of yours have a lot going on inside of them. I’m still convinced you’re having boy issues.”

  Kelsey shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint. And once you hit a certain age, we stop calling them ‘boys.’ ”

  “What should I say? Adult male issues?”

  Kelsey smiled. “I don’t know. ‘Guy’ issues?”

  “Fine,” Rae said. “Your face looks like you’re having guy issues. Dish.”

  “Dish what?” Kelsey said with a laugh. “There’s nothing to dish.”

  “This doctor, have you seen him lately?”

  “Yes,” Kelsey said. “Last night, in fact.”

  “I knew it!”

  “Knew what?” Kelsey continued to laugh. “He’s helping me with the Eckersley article. He’s got sources in town.”

  Rae stared at her with raised eyebrows and a suppressed smile.

  “What’s that look for?”

  “I can tell you think I’m just some twenty-year-old kid who calls men ‘boys’ and wakes up before dawn to bake doughnuts. But I’m very intuitive.”

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  “So what’s going on with you two?”

  Kelsey opened her eyes wide. “There’s nothing going on between us. We’re breaking into county buildings and looking at autopsy reports, not dating.” Kelsey pointed at Rae. “And that’s a secret, by the way. About breaking in. Not to be repeated to anyone.”

  “But do you like him?”

  “Do I what?”

  “I knew it!”

  Kelsey shook her head. “Knew what?”

  “Never answer a yes-or-no question with a question. It’s a dead giveaway.”

  There was a pause before Kelsey said, “He called me and offered his help on something I was stuck on. Last night we went down to Eastgate and snuck into the Buchanan County Government Center to find Becca’s autopsy report.” Kelsey paused a minute. “I was moved that he was so willing to help me. That’s it.”

  “Have you thought about him this morning?”

  Kelsey shrugged. “Yeah.”

  Rae opened her arms wide. “And there it is. You’re having guy issues. Why else would you be thinking about him? And that’s not a bad thing. It’s fun.”

  Kelsey squinted her eyes at the young girl’s ability to drag her along to a point where she had no choice but to agree.

  “But dish again,” Rae said. “You find anything? With the autopsy?”

  “Lots.”

  “Like what?”

  Kelsey looked up at the falling water, then back to Rae. “We’re friends?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’d keep a secret if I asked you, right?”

  “To my grave.”

  “Then I’m asking.”

  Rae nodded.

  Kelsey stirred the water with her feet, then looked back to Rae. “Becca was pregnant when she died.”

  “Get out!”

  Kelsey nodded. “Loaded up with hCG, a hormone produced during pregnancy. And when I talked to Millie Mays the other day, she told me Becca confessed to Livvy that she ran off and married some guy she was dating. So we’ve got a marriage no one knew about, a secret pregnancy, and a dead girl.”

  Rae slowly raised her chin. “And you think the guy she married killed her.”

  “He’s leading the race of suspects, yes.”

  “Who is he?”

  “No clue. So that puts me at a big fork in the road. I need to talk to people who knew Becca. Since her family is not about to tell me anything and I can’t get to her sequestered Facebook postings or e-mails, I either have to go to DC and start asking around, find some of her friends who are willing to talk . . .”

  “Or?”

  “I find Becca’s journal.” Kelsey paused a moment. “You make any progress on that, by chance?”

  “Maybe,” Rae said. “I talked to Millie. She’s old and sounds like she’s losing it sometimes, but she knows more than she’s letting on about the night Becca was killed. I told Millie the gossip group is in a frenzy about Becca keeping a journal. That’s all they talk about. I asked Millie if she knew anything about it. If Livvy said anything about a journal.”

  “And?”

  “She just shrugged, which means she knows all about it. I told her the police never found a journal at the stilt house, and you know what she said?”

  Kelsey raised her eyebrows.

  “How could they have? That’s what she said to me. ‘How could they have?’ Said it right to my face and then got up and made sweet tea.”

  Kelsey shifted on the rock. “What’s that mean?”

  “Not sure, but it sounds like the old lady knows where that journal is.”

  “Yeah? How do we get our hands on it?”

  Rae smiled. “I’m working on it.”

  They both pulled their feet from the water and slipped their socks on.

  “Want a coffee?” Rae asked.

  “I’m sweaty and gross,” Kelsey said.

  “Iced coffee, then.”

  “Done.”

  They jogged back through the
canopied forest and cooled down as they walked along Maple Street to the coffeehouse. Inside, Kelsey took a spot at the bar while Rae prepared the drinks. Next to Kelsey, the gossip group was at it. The redhead was arguing with the heavyset lady when Kelsey sat down. But their conversation was interrupted by the forty-year-old guy, who held up a finger to quiet the group. Then he pointed at Kelsey.

  “Aren’t you Kelsey Castle?”

  The whole group, six of them this morning, turned and stared with quizzical looks and wide eyes as though a movie star had just graced their presence.

  Before Kelsey could answer, the guy said, “You’re here because of Becca, right?” He looked around at his cohorts. “I told you she was here. This is crazy! Our little town has the attention of Events magazine?”

  “All right,” Rae said, setting the iced coffee in front of Kelsey and standing behind the mahogany bar. “Don’t accost my other customers.”

  “Rae,” the forty-year-old said, “you knew Kelsey Castle was in town and didn’t tell us?”

  “For a group of detectives like yourselves, you’re not too observant. Kelsey’s been here for a week, and has come in here almost every morning.”

  “Do you know who did it?” the heavyset woman asked, like a child begging for dessert.

  Kelsey smiled. “I know probably as much as you all do.”

  “Why won’t the police give any details?” the redhead asked with her eyes closed.

  “Not sure about that, since they won’t tell me anything either.”

  “When will your article run?” the forty-year-old asked.

  “Not sure on that either. I don’t have anything to write about yet.”

  “But you’re not buying the random stranger argument?” he asked.

  Kelsey shrugged. “About as much as you are.”

  The forty-year-old smiled and looked at his crowd, nodding. “I told you it was too random.” He looked back at Kelsey. “So it was—I mean, you think it was someone Becca knew, right? Maybe someone she was close to?”

  Kelsey smiled again. “I don’t know what I think yet, I haven’t gotten very far.”

  “Here’s what we think,” he said, then looked at the heavyset woman at the end of the bar. “At least what most of us think. Becca got mixed up with someone, like a lawyer at her father’s firm or some other quasi high-profile attorney. Maybe to help her later in her career, maybe just because they fell in love. The affair turned into something, you know . . . illicit, secretive, scandalous. Whatever. Eventually either she wanted out or he wanted out. The other didn’t.” The forty-year-old slapped his hands together. “Boom. There’s your motive!”

  Kelsey puckered her lower lip. “Interesting theory. You guys have been busy working on this, huh?”

  “Every morning,” Red said. “They never stop.”

  “I mean, c’mon,” the forty-year-old said. “Becca was young, gorgeous, and smart. This has to be a crime of passion, no?”

  “Maybe,” Kelsey said. “Go get me some suspects to interview, or something important to run with, and I’ll put you in my article.”

  “Really?” the heavyset woman said, eyes wide and urgent.

  “Did you tell her about the journal?” the forty-year-old asked Rae. He groomed his goatee with his hand, smiling like he held an unknown secret.

  “I haven’t told Kelsey any of your theories. She’s pretty good at what she does without the gossip group’s input.”

  “It’s not a theory,” he said to Kelsey. “I’ve heard it from more than one person. Becca kept a journal, and I bet the cops have it right now. That’s probably why they’re being so quiet about the case. Just ticking off each person in the journal until they hit pay dirt, but they don’t want anyone knowing their play. Don’t want to spook any of the suspects.”

  “Okay,” Rae said. “Keep working on that one. I think you’re almost there. We’re drinking our coffee by the fire.”

  “Nice to meet you all,” Kelsey said.

  “If you need any statements or anything,” the heavyset woman said, “just ask. You can quote any of us.”

  “Will do,” Kelsey said before retreating with Rae to the thick-stuffed leather chairs by the fire.

  “Sorry about that,” Rae said. “I’ve heard it every morning for the last couple of weeks. The theories get more and more bizarre, and completely change based on what’s printed in the paper each morning.”

  “I love it,” Kelsey said. “A group of conspiracy theorists.”

  Rae smiled. “That’s Summit Lake for you. Before they had Becca to gossip about it was something about the water being contaminated and every government official knowing about it but not wanting to spend money to fix it. Cancer and cover-ups and lawsuits. Always something.”

  “Morning gossip in coffeehouses around the world, right?” Kelsey took a sip. She lowered her voice. “So dish yourself. They’re actually on to something with the journal.”

  “I’m shocked. They’ve discovered something useful.”

  “And if a bunch of gossips are close, the cops are closer. We need a plan to find Becca’s journal before anyone else does.”

  Rae smiled. “I told you. I’m working on it.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Becca Eckersley

  George Washington University

  May 13, 2011

  Nine months before her death

  The campus began to fill on Thursday. By Friday afternoon traffic was tight as parents converged on campus and filled the walkways of George Washington University to see their sons and daughters graduate. There were rumors of Secret Service agents on campus as the Vice President was due to deliver Saturday’s commencement speech. It was an exciting time for the graduating students, who had mostly forgotten about their classmate who hanged himself the month before. To most he was just a statistic, but to Becca and Jack it was a much more tangible commodity. It was something they were both part of—an event they each felt they played a distinct role in producing. And because they were so close to it, ignoring it or letting it drift into the past was an impossible task.

  Brad Reynolds hanged himself on April 7, five weeks before the ceremonial commencement day at GWU, and no one’s life had been the same since. He sent Jack the text message just before he kicked the chair out from underneath himself, and he hung for sixty-three seconds before the kitchen door opened and Becca witnessed her friend dangling from the kitchen rafters.

  The weeks leading to graduation were a quiet and isolated time for Becca and Jack, who spent most of their time together. They had trouble staying at Jack’s apartment. Every time they opened the door they saw Brad’s feet twirling and twitching over the kitchen floor. Sleeping there was simply not possible.

  In the middle of April, Jack received a phone call from the admissions office at Harvard Law. A formal letter followed four days later, and Jack placed it ceremoniously next to his acceptance letter from months earlier. Becca placed her head on his shoulder and dabbed tears from her eyes as she hugged him. He wouldn’t show any emotion. That was the way he handled things, Becca knew. And though Jack acted numb to the news, and detached from the reality that he would not be attending Harvard Law, or any other law program that fall, Becca knew eventually it would hit him.

  “Well,” Jack said to Becca. “Some kid on the waiting list just got the best news of his life.”

  Becca listened to Jack’s philosophy about how life worked—one person’s misfortune was another’s dream come true, whether it was getting into law school or getting the girl of your dreams. She listened but didn’t buy his bravado. She knew, despite all the talk about not wanting to practice law, he was hurt badly by the news, which was why she agreed without hesitation to go with him.

  Becca finished packing Friday night. The graduation ceremony would be the next morning. Her parents had been up the weekend before to haul her possessions back to Greensboro for the summer. It was just before 10:00 p.m. when she entered Jack’s apartment.

  “Sure you want
to skip it?” Jack asked.

  Becca nodded. “I don’t need the whispers and stares when they call our names.”

  “I don’t think anyone will whisper and stare, but I don’t want to find out anyway. Are your parents okay with it?”

  Becca nodded. “They weren’t thrilled, but they came last week to get my stuff so they’re going along with it. They know this whole thing has been tough and we’re just trying to figure out how to handle it.”

  “Didn’t you think this year would be different?”

  “That’s a rhetorical question, right?”

  “I guess,” Jack said. He was sitting on the bed of his empty room.

  “When I trace it back, things were going really well until we stole that damn test, and nothing’s really been the same since. I mean, follow Brad’s life since we stole that test.”

  “Jack, we didn’t do any of that to Brad, okay? Brad did it to himself. It sounds cold and terrible, and I miss him like I’d miss my brother. But you and I are not responsible for what happened to him. To protect us all, you took the blame for something he did, so that should absolve you of your guilt. Harvard was taken away from you, which I think is a lot worse than not getting in. And I know it was your thing, so I never got involved, but I think it was pretty shitty that Brad let you take the blame for the test.”

  Jack pulled his cell phone from his pocket and paged through his texts. “He sent this to me right before.” Jack handed her his phone.

  You took her from me, Jack.

  But I guess she was never really mine.

  Becca stared for a minute at the phone, her lips silently reading and rereading the message. “God, Jack.” She sat on his bed. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “What’s to tell? You knew he was pissed we were sneaking around behind his back. This only adds a small element that he thinks I somehow stole you from him.”

  “It’s almost . . . creepy. I’m starting to think of Brad in a different way.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just want to find a way to move on.”