Summit Lake

by Charlie Donlea

  Instead, though, she was holed up in her parents’ stilt house in the Blue Ridge Mountains, reading for an exam and waiting for the man she loved to arrive the following day. Organizing herself at the kitchen island, she picked up where she left off at Millie’s Coffee House. Her iPod played subtle tunes, too low for her to catch the lyrics but just enough to erase the still of the house.

  A half hour into studying, a noise outside the mudroom door overwhelmed the music. She stopped to listen. Too vague to identify, the noise held the ring of keys rattling, or maybe the door vibrating in the lake breeze. She turned the music down and listened more closely. Only silence followed. She clicked her iPod back on and returned to her textbook. It was twenty minutes later when three loud knocks came from the mudroom door.

  Startled, she jumped off the kitchen stool. She knew Jack was trying to get an earlier flight, and there was a remote chance Milt Ward would invite him to take a spot on his private jet. If he could make it happen, Becca knew it was possible that Jack could arrive tonight to surprise her. She didn’t expect it, though. Wouldn’t allow her mind to venture to the thought of sleeping in his arms tonight, since lying alone in the giant king bed would become a disappointment if Jack couldn’t get in until tomorrow.

  But now, the three knocks on the door burst open the dam she had used to stymie her emotions. Jack managed to pull it off. He came a day early to spend time with her. To plan their conversation with her parents. To comfort her and love her and hold her in his arms and tell her it would all work out. Becca ran to the door, feeling foolish for worrying that Jack’s job was beginning to overshadow their relationship. Jogging through the mudroom, a giddy feeling of anticipation filled her chest.

  CHAPTER 40

  Kelsey Castle

  Summit Lake

  March 15, 2012

  Day 11

  It was approaching evening as they drove into the foothills, with a dusky blue sky settling over the mountains and casting a teal shade to the narrow road they were following.

  “Here’s the fork she was talking about,” Rae said.

  “Okay,” Kelsey said. A map was unfolded on her lap and her finger was marking their location. “Stay to the right.”

  Rae maneuvered her car along the gravel road. The bush was thick on either side of them, with barely any clearance between the just-budded leaves and the car’s windows. They drove more slowly now that the paved road was gone and gravel crunched under their tires. After fifteen minutes, they came to the final T.

  “Play it again,” Rae said. “Make sure we’re going the right way.”

  Kelsey pulled out her cell phone and replayed the message. On it was a female’s voice that gave them directions to the cabin they were looking for: “Turn left at the final T and you’ll run into it in ten minutes.”

  Rae swung the wheel to the left and a few minutes later they saw an isolated cabin in the distance. They slowed when they pulled to the front of the property.

  “Who lives out here?” Kelsey asked.

  “No one,” Rae said. “These are hunting cabins. No electricity, just propane generators and outhouses.” She stopped at the front of the cabin and put the car in park. “Well? Now what?”

  Kelsey opened the passenger side door. “Now we go talk to him. See what he knows about Becca. And if he can give us any insight into who she married.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Becca Eckersley

  Summit Lake

  February 17, 2012

  The night of her death

  Becca headed to the mudroom door, a smile coming to her face. She flicked on the outside light and pulled the curtains to the side. What she saw confused her. She looked more closely, squinted her eyes, and then smiled again, laughing.

  “Oh. My. God!”

  Brad Reynolds stood on the landing outside the door. He had a heavy wool cap pulled to his eyebrows and his bearded face offered a white fog of vapor into the cold night. She barely recognized him.

  Becca wondered many times over the past several months if she’d ever see her old friend again. The last image she had of him was when he was hanging from the rafters of Jack’s apartment. That night, Jack rushed in to lift Brad by the waist and take the pressure off his neck after a full minute without oxygen. It took another minute to wrestle the noose free, and when the paramedics arrived Brad was conscious and talking. Terribly emotional about his failed suicide attempt, he spent the night in the hospital until his parents took him home the next morning. Becca tried several times to contact him, but Brad was well-buffered by his mother and father, who were not subtle about blaming Becca and Jack for what happened to their son.

  So shocked and excited to see him now, Becca tapped the alarm code and waited for the red light to turn green, then turned the deadbolt, unlatched the chain, and finally pulled open the door. Brad slipped in immediately. He had changed since she saw him last, almost one year ago. His hair was long and on the greasy side, which was odd since he always kept it short and manicured and still with gel. And he wore a beard that was thick and bushy, like a nonconformist college student so similar to everyone else that the hope of a beard and long hair might make him stand out.

  “What are you doing here?” Becca said. She wrapped her arms around him.

  Brad held her tight. “I came to see you,” he said.

  She stood back from him, keeping her hands on his shoulders. “You look . . . good, but different.” Becca smiled. “You’ve gone backwoods on me.” Brad’s face was stoic. “So what’ve you been up to?” she asked. “You know I tried to reach you a bunch of times? Your mom kind of told me to . . . you know, back off until you were ready to talk.”

  “Yeah,” Brad said, staring over her head with lost eyes. “She told me you called. I was just upset and embarrassed and . . . just didn’t want to talk to anyone.”

  “I was thinking of calling you again, but I didn’t want to push. Here, come in out of the cold.”

  He walked farther into the mudroom and she closed the door.

  “Come into the kitchen,” Becca said. “I heard through the grapevine that GW said you could finish your last semester.”

  Brad shook his head. “Nah, I’m done with school.”

  Becca raised her eyebrows. “Well, give it some time. You might change your mind.” They were both in the kitchen now, the iPod barely audible in the background. “I can’t believe you’re here. This is crazy. What are you doing up here? I mean, how did you know I was here?”

  “I’ve been staying at my dad’s hunting cabin, I don’t know, for like a year now.”

  Becca paused. “In the foothills?”

  “Yeah, needed to get away.”

  “Really? For the entire year? There’s no electricity out there, right?”

  “No, there is. Propane generator.”

  “This is the cabin where your dad hosted that attorney convention? My dad went a couple of years ago?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. The old man canceled the convention this year. Didn’t want to make me leave, I guess. Probably thought I’d move back in with him.” He let out an awkward laugh.

  Becca smiled and stared at her old friend, so different from what she remembered. “Sometimes it’s good to get away.”

  There was a long pause as they both stood in the kitchen of the stilt house.

  “Well,” Becca said. “Come on in, stranger. Let’s get caught up on our lives.”

  CHAPTER 42

  Kelsey Castle

  Summit Lake

  March 15, 2012

  Day 11

  Peter sat in the dark pub and listened to Gail Moss tell her story. He knew, of course, about Senator Ward’s plane crash. In the middle of the presidential primary race, it was the biggest news story around. That Becca’s husband was on the plane was a development that destroyed Kelsey’s theory about what happened that night.

  “And I would never tell you this,” Gail said over the phone. “But under the circumstances, I think it’s important.”<
br />
  Peter cleared his throat. “What’s that?”

  “Becca liked a lot of attention. From guys, I mean.”

  “Yeah? How so?”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I loved her. She was my best friend. But she sort of had this character flaw she wasn’t aware of. At least she always seemed oblivious to it.”

  “To what?”

  “The way she led guys on. She was just one of those girls who had a lot of boyfriends. I mean, friends who were boys. Way more than she had girlfriends. And, you know, guys hang around girls when they like them. Girls are different. They can see a guy as just a friend. But guys, you know. They always want more.”

  “And why do you think this is important?”

  “Because there was one guy who had a really serious relationship with Becca, and she sort of broke his heart. Not on purpose. Like I said, she didn’t really know she was doing anything wrong. And I’m not saying she did—”

  “Gail,” Peter said. “Who are you talking about? Whose heart did she break?”

  “One of our friends from college. His name is Brad Reynolds. After Becca and Jack got together, he sort of freaked out. Tried to kill himself, then dropped out of school and fell off the grid. I heard he was living in his father’s hunting cabin in the mountains.”

  “Where?”

  “There. In Summit Lake. Or, you know, the foothills. Way out. Like with nothing around. He told me once that it was like an hour from Becca’s place. And I just think it would make sense for the police to at least talk to him. I’m not saying he had anything—”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  Peter ended the call and scrolled through Kelsey’s texts.

  Heading into the foothills to talk to one of Becca’s friends.

  He scrambled with the keypad and tried Kelsey again, but her phone went straight to voice mail. He knew she was already too far into the mountains for cell reception. Peter pulled out his wallet and ripped through it until he found the business card. Then he dialed the number and hoped for someone to pick up.

  CHAPTER 43

  Becca Eckersley

  Summit Lake

  February 17, 2012

  The night of her death

  Becca stood in her kitchen with Brad in front of her. “So what’s going on with your dad? You guys on any better terms?”

  Brad closed his eyes and shook his head. Becca could tell he was about to cry.

  “What’s wrong?” She moved closer to him and placed her hand on his cheek, feeling the thick, coarse beard that covered his face.

  Brad took her by the wrist and pressed her hand harder to his cheek. Keeping his eyes closed, he asked, “You and Jack still together?”

  Becca nodded her head slowly. “Yeah.”

  Brad opened his eyes and stared at her. “So, I’ve just gotta know, because it’s been killing me. Was there ever a chance for you and me?”

  Becca slowly pulled her hand away from his face. “Brad, I’m really sorry for what happened. I’m still upset that I kept my relationship with Jack a secret for so long. A lot happened our senior year. Things that changed all our lives forever. If I could go back and undo some of it, I would. But the thing is, I’m not sure I’d change the relationship I had with you. You were one of my best friends. I never knew you considered me anything other than the same.”

  She looked at him for a long time.

  “That’s so hard for me to handle,” Brad finally said. “I just don’t know how I read this whole thing so differently than you. I can’t stop thinking that maybe I was just your backup plan.”

  “My what?”

  “Keep me around and interested in case nothing better came along.”

  “Brad, that’s ridiculous—”

  “But then I guess Jack was different than me. The mysterious Jack Covington—not really interested in law school, just for the résumé. Never going to practice law, sort of a rebel. Not really our crowd, you know? Gonna be a writer someday.”

  “Brad, come on. What you’re saying isn’t close to the truth.”

  “I just.” Brad ran a hand through his disheveled hair, pulling the cap from his head. “Were you really going to get a C in Business Law?”

  Becca squinted her eyes. “What?”

  “See, I stole that test to help you because you convinced me that without it you’d mess up your transcripts. Screw up your chance at law school. Jack thought you were just playing the situation for attention. And I still don’t know. Maybe you were manipulating the whole thing and would have done fine without the test. Just like you manipulated me and our relationship when you used to sleep in my bed all night.”

  “I’m so sorry I hurt you. It was never my intention.”

  After another moment, he began to cry.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “You can get me the girl I fell in love with. The same one who told me she loved me, too.” There was a long stretch of silence filled by the subtle rhythm of the iPod. “This is where you broke my heart,” Brad finally said. “When I came up here after Christmas? Found you with him.”

  Becca nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  Brad looked around the house for an instant, then back to Becca. “Where is he, anyway?”

  The question, and the way it was posed, put a scare into Becca’s chest. A quick synapse fired in her mind, triggering an awareness that the sound she heard earlier was the handle of the mudroom door being tried from the outside. Her brain registered again and she thought back to a few evenings before in Foggy Bottom when she struggled to unlock her apartment door and panicked that someone was behind her. The same feeling came to her now as Brad stood in her kitchen.

  “He’s with the senator, right? Running all over the country thinking he’s some kind of hotshot. It’s so funny, Becca. You can’t see what’s so obvious.” Brad laughed, a frantic, fake wheeze. “It’s freezing outside. What if the heat went out tonight? Or the water lines froze? What if you needed him tonight? He’s not here for you. I would never do that! Leave you all alone. Or let you come up to the mountains by yourself.”

  The volume of his voice was elevating with each sentence, and Becca heard a slur in his words.

  “I would never leave you alone! Why did he?” His voice softened. “It’s because he doesn’t appreciate you.”

  “It’s his job, Brad. He—”

  “Don’t make excuses for him!”

  The sudden outburst sent Becca’s adrenaline flowing. She still had her cell phone in her hand and was tempted to dial 911, but she wasn’t sure what was happening, or if she could call the police on her friend.

  “Brad,” she said, trying to calm the situation and figure a way to get him out of the house. It was all she wanted. To be alone. To call Jack and tell him to come home. “I’m fine,” she said, forcing away tears and smiling to hide her fear. “Okay? I don’t need Jack tonight. I don’t need anything tonight. Let’s talk about this tomorrow.” She walked back into the mudroom.

  “No, I’m done talking. I’ve talked to myself about this for a year.”

  When she turned around he was close to her. His eyes rattled in their sockets. Becca noticed the strange vibration, his irises twitching in fast-forward. She remembered reading somewhere of the way narcotics cause the muscles of the eyes to fire as the central nervous system is altered by their impact.

  “You know what?” she said, sliding past him so she was in the doorway of the mudroom, trying to get him to commit to the side door. “Let’s have lunch tomorrow and then we can have a long—”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and in a violent surge yanked her through the mudroom and into the kitchen, pinning her to the wall. Startled by the sudden onslaught, Becca dropped her cell phone and put her hands on his wrists.

  “Didn’t it mean anything to you? When we kissed?” His teeth were gritted. “Or is that just what you do with every guy you meet? Tease him and pull him along until you have a couple to choose from and then run off with one of them.”


  “Brad, don’t hurt me.”

  “Hurt you? I love you, why don’t you understand!” He tightened his grip on her shoulders and pinned her harder against the wall.

  “Brad, I’m pregnant! Don’t hurt my baby.”

  A disgusted look came across his face. “That’s why you’ve been to the doctor so much. So classy that you let him knock you up?”

  “Brad. We got married. Privately, we just decided—”

  “Yeah, you guys do everything privately.”

  There was something in his eyes she couldn’t name. Some combination of shock and resignation. For an instant his arms went slack, his shoulders drooped, and his grip on her shoulders loosened. But as soon as Becca pushed him away, Brad’s eyes went wide with rage, like a bolt of lightning had hit him. Unprepared for his onslaught, she felt her heels skid and drag across the tile floor until he slammed her against the adjacent wall.

  Clutching her shoulders, then a fistful of hair at the base of her skull, he wrestled her around the kitchen. Panic wiped her mind blank—all the ideas and images there just seconds before, erased now—allowing her fight-or-flight instincts to take over. As he dragged her violently through the house, Becca fought for her life. Grasping and kicking at anything that might help her, she saw her textbook and laptop scatter to the floor. The envelope containing the letter to her unborn child sailed through the air and landed in the corner of the kitchen as her wool-stockinged feet struggled for traction on the cold tile. As he jerked her through the room, Becca’s legs scissored back and forth. A wild kick met the kitchen hutch, sending dishes shattering across the floor.