Dark Lake

by Clare Revell

  His eyebrows winged up. “That was your work? The paper said Monty Sparrow. His was the other name put about by the board for this position.”

  “Case in point.” She sighed. If Monty was also up for this job, then she may as well leave now. “Monty is my boss’s son. He took over at Llaremont.” She picked up her glass and sipped the cold beer. “I spent three years on that project, trying to convince people I wasn’t insane, trying to relate that site to Stonehenge. Then the day we prove my theories correct, I get yanked off the dig for no reason whatsoever, and Monty was given the project instead. I get told to hand over all my notes, files, photos, and then I’m sent up here. And my boss tells me if I publish anything I’m sacked. However, AJ decided that wasn’t fair. He brought all my notes when he arrived and gave them to me. So I finished the paper and sent it off. It comes out Tuesday at least a month before Monty can publish anything.”

  Tobias raised an eyebrow. “So basically, you’re sitting here talking to me because you’ll be jobless by the middle of next week.”

  She shook her head. “I’d planned on quitting before he fires me. I intend to do that as soon as I get back to my room tonight. I’m tired of having work I’ve done be credited to someone else. Tired of being told I’m too disabled to dive, to dig. Maybe it’s time I acted my age and tried to enthuse the next generation of archaeologists. Or I go back to my parents’ place in the States and do something totally different.”

  “Would you be happy doing something else? From what I’ve read and discovered, you’re one of the best archaeologists in the country, if not the world. You could have any position you wanted.”

  She snorted. “Not once my boss has finished smearing me through the mud. Don’t get me wrong. I love field work. It’s just been pointed out to me over and over again that there’s no place in the field for someone like me. People wait for me to make mistakes. To slip up—literally.”

  The food arrived, and she inhaled the rising steam. It smelled wonderful.

  Tobias smiled at the barmaid. “Thank you.” He turned his attention back to Lou. “I assume by your disability, you mean your leg?”

  She unwrapped her knife and fork. “Yeah. I lost it when I was sixteen in a boating accident.”

  “However, you’re incredibly good at your job. You hold the world record in swimming. Your leg hasn’t hindered you in any way. Why let it now?”

  “You sound like my stepfather.” She shoved the fork into the potato. “He’d say the same thing.”

  “He must be right then.”

  Lou glanced up at Tobias. “Maybe it’s time for a change. I’d rather go straight into another job, somewhere I’m valued, needed, and my contributions mean something rather than to be given to someone else. However, if that’s not possible, I’ll join the ranks of the unemployed until something else crops up. I’m not a glory hunter, I merely believe in reaping what I sow and rewarding someone for all the hard work they put in. Whether that’s in the field, or in an essay, or a research project.”

  He held her gaze, something flickering in his eyes. “The academic term starts on October third. You’d spend term time lecturing, holidays in the field or running summer classes. There is the chance of doing field trips with the students in their final year. Four weeks paid vacation outside of term time. Some lab work. You’d be expected to file and publish at least one paper a year.”

  Her heart leapt. “I can do that.”

  “How much notice do you need to give?”

  She shrugged. “None if he fires me, which he probably will. Or none if I quit first.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Forgive me. Rule number one, never slag your current boss off to a prospective one.”

  A slight smile crossed Tobias’s lips as he studied her over his fork. “Tell me about Llaremont.”

  Between mouthfuls, Lou told him about her theory connecting that site and Stonehenge and the way it had panned out.

  “Interesting.”

  “That’s one word for it. And I’m literally proving it when I get sent here to the back of beyond to investigate something the police are now handling and probably should have been from the start.” She paused. “Sorry. No offense meant for calling this place the back of beyond.”

  “None taken. I can see why you’re upset.”

  “Thing is, none of this current project here adds up.”

  “Which bit exactly?”

  Lou swallowed her mouthful and picked up her glass. “There are bodies under Dark Lake, in the houses, the church. Or there were. Last night everything was destroyed. Bar one house, which contained a shed load of wires and explosives which hadn’t detonated, along with a fresh body. Today, while I’m out there gathering evidence to prove all this, AJ dies. Someone is desperately trying to cover something up. And yes, I have given all I have to the police.”

  The waitress came over and picked up their empty plates. “Can I get you any dessert?”

  Tobias nodded. “Apple pie and custard, please. Lou?”

  “The same.”

  Lou leaned back in her seat and set her empty glass on the table.

  “Can I get you another?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I’d love a coffee, please.”

  Tobias smiled. “Sure. Be back in a minute.”

  Left to herself, Lou withdrew her phone from her bag and checked her messages. There was one from Jim, demanding she call him as soon as possible. One from her parents saying virtually the same thing word for word. And one from Varian. That one she deleted without reading. She didn’t want his condescending platitudes which would turn, as always, into an ultimatum.

  Gazing across the pub, she came to a decision. No matter what the outcome of tonight’s meeting, she was resigning as soon as she returned to the manor. Whatever secrets lay beneath the surface of Dark Lake would remain with her and the police. No one else needed to know. The report wouldn’t be published. Her findings would vanish, nothing put to record. It was simply another village drowned to make way for a reservoir. The investigation had cost too much.

  Anything else she found out was for her benefit only. To satisfy personal curiosity.

  Tobias sat opposite her and slid a mug of coffee across the table to her.

  “Thanks.” She watched him sip his second pint.

  “You’ve heard the history of the place?” he asked.

  “Only a little. Most of the records have been buried, destroyed in the flood, or are impossible to find. Those we did track down are incomplete and don’t match my findings.”

  “The whole area was owned by the Close family for generations. Have you met the current owner, Evan Close?”

  Lou nodded, choosing to keep how well she knew him to herself. “Yes, our paths have crossed a few times.”

  “His great-grandfather was the Abernay doctor back when the village was flooded. His great-great-grandfather was the local squire.”

  “Evan mentioned that.”

  Tobias raised an eyebrow as the puddings arrived. “Evan? You two are on first name terms?”

  Lou’s cheeks heated. “He saved my life, so yeah, we are. It seemed kind of silly to keep calling each other Dr. Fitzgerald and Mr. Close after that.”

  “Then maybe it’s my turn to bite my tongue,” he said, picking up his spoon. “How did you put it, never complain about one friend to another.”

  Lou shook her head. “No, please, carry on. If my boss is serious about blowing up the church and closing my investigation down, then I want to at least satisfy my own curiosity about the true history of this dam.”

  “OK. Both rumour and legend have it that the villagers didn’t want to leave.”

  “The news reports told me that much.” She stabbed her pie with her spoon. “They protested in Downing Street.”

  “But did the news reports tell you that the people never left?”

  “Huh?” Her mind flashed back to the bodies she’d found, tied to pews and chairs or stuck in inner rooms and cupboards under the stairs.
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  “A huge fire swept through Abernay, lasting three days. No one saw the villagers afterwards. For several weeks before that, they had cut themselves off behind barricades.”

  The fire wasn’t news to her, however the fact the village was barricaded off was. “How did the fire start?”

  “Under the cover of the fog. There were only a few people who survived it. The Closes for one. Your boss’s family for another and a few others. Maybe fifteen in total.”

  “What?” She choked on the pie. She coughed hard and swallowed several mouthfuls of coffee.

  “Didn’t he tell you that? Chester Sparrow was Varian’s grandfather. He was the chief architect and stood to benefit the most from the construction of the dam. He also had a large stake in the hydroelectric company the dam feeds.”

  Lou inhaled sharply. That explained a lot. Her mind whirled. “So why send me to dig all this up? He must have known all along. Surely…” She paused as she pondered. “No. Not even Varian would stoop that low, would he?”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “He sends me here, let’s me dig all this up, then he can sack me legitimately. Because if I publish this, it’ll seem like I have an axe to grind.” She sighed. “Damned if I do and damned if I don’t.”

  Tobias nodded. “You need a new job.”

  “A new life would be better. One far, far away from the Sparrow Foundation.”

  “Or maybe he wants you to disprove the rumours and clear his name.”

  Lou tilted her head. “Elaborate on these rumours.”

  “That all the villagers were murdered. Either burned or buried alive. Or drowned when the waters came. All under the cover of the fog. The Sparrows made their fortune from this dam. Money is a great incentive for murder.”

  “What about the Closes?”

  “They had to know. They were the only other survivors.”

  The back of Lou’s neck prickled. She glanced up to find Evan standing right behind Tobias. A dark scowl covered his face, his blue eyes glinted like ice. Before she could say anything, he spun on his heel and strode from the pub.

  Had he known all along?

  What kind of a man was she involved with?

  Maybe Varian wasn’t behind the attack on her life. She shivered.

  “You OK?” Tobias asked.

  She nodded, draining the rest of her now cold coffee. “I’m fine.”

  “Good, let me get you some more coffee, and we can talk more about the position at the university.”

  22

  Lou drove back to the manor, hoping against hope that Evan would already be in bed and asleep. She really didn’t want to face him tonight. Not with her mind so conflicted and so many unanswered questions about him and Varian tumbling in her brain. She needed to sort through her feelings before she did or said anything she would regret.

  Resigning being the exception to that.

  Fog swept in off the mountains as she drove, and she shivered, remembering what Tobias had said about the murders and the cover of the fog.

  She parked her car and removed the box from the boot. She wrapped it in her coat before locking the car and heading up the steps to the front door. It opened as she got there and closed behind her almost as soon as she stepped into the hall.

  Evan kept his face impassive. “How was your meeting?”

  “It was interesting,” she said. “How was your evening?”

  He scowled. “Fine. Who was he? You said you were going to a meeting.”

  “And I did exactly that.” Lou hefted the box in her arms. “I met with Professor Tobias Cunningham from Cumbria University. We were discussing a potential job offer, not that it’s any concern of yours.”

  “That isn’t what is sounded like from where I was standing.” He paused. “A job interview. In a pub? Do you really think I came down in the last shower?”

  She gritted her teeth. “No, I don’t. And yes, a job offer. There’s a position going in the university here. He wanted to talk to me and he suggested dinner in the pub. We arranged it on Tuesday. Were you spying on me?”

  “Why would I waste my time doing that? I fancied a quiet drink in the local pub. Did you get this job?”

  “He’ll let me know. But either way I will be out of your hair and your house by Tuesday at the latest.” She shifted the box again. The longer she held it, the heavier it appeared to get.

  He tilted his head. “What’s in your coat?”

  “Nothing much. Just some stuff from the car.”

  “It looks heavy.”

  “It is. Well, it’s been a very long, very rough day, so I’ll call it a night.” She moved to the foot of the stairs. “Did you ever find your great-grandfather’s journal?”

  “I…” He visibly hesitated. “Yes. But it won’t be much help I’m afraid. The ink is rather faded.”

  “I’d still like to see it.”

  “OK.” Was that reluctance in his voice? Would it prove his family’s involvement in the deaths of all those people? If the rumours were, in fact, true. “I’ll bring it up to your room for you.”

  “Thank you.” She headed up the stairs and down the hallway, managing to balance the box long enough to open the door and flick on the light. She closed the door with her hip and set the coat wrapped box on her bed then unwrapped it and grabbed the camera, photographing it from several angles. Next she examined the box. There was a key hole, which indicated it was locked as well as rusted shut.

  So involved in her work, the knock at the door made her jump. “One minute,” she called. She shoved the box under her bed and draped her coat over the back of the chair. Then she opened the door.

  Evan held out the book. “The journal.”

  “Thank you.” She reached for it, but he didn’t let go.

  “Some things are best left buried in the past, Dr. Fitzgerald.”

  A spear shot through her. They were back to titles were they? How much of the conversation with Tobias had he overheard? “Is that so, Mr. Close?”

  “Yes.” He let go of the journal. “The coroner called. She’ll have the autopsy report tomorrow.”

  “That’s awfully fast. And you know this how?”

  “She called out of common courtesy. It’s my land, AJ was your friend, and you’re staying here.”

  Lou bit her lip, the all too familiar grief welling up inside her again at the mention of AJ’s name. Sirens wailed outside. “I’ll never get used to that fog warning. Don’t see why you need it when we’re nowhere near the coast.”

  “That’s not the fog warning, it’s the dam evacuation warning. They’re testing it. Which reminds me. Jasper asked if you could dive the dam in the morning. He’s worried about the integrity of the walls, and his diver has gone AWOL. They’re running six to eight feet of water off tonight, but he’d feel happier if someone could check the outer walls. It’s a crime scene still, but I have permission from the police to check the dam integrity. The last thing we need is a major disaster on our hands.”

  “I’m not a builder or a structural engineer, but sure, I can dive and take photos.”

  Evan nodded. “Thanks.” He turned to go then paused. “Oh, and Varian said to tell you that Monty will be here around lunchtime. He’ll be your new partner.”

  Lou growled, anger consuming her. I knew it! “Great. That’s just what I wanted to hear.” She didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm.

  Evan nodded. “Well, good night.”

  She shut the door with slightly more force than absolutely necessary. Monty’s coming out could only mean one thing. Varian was planning on sweeping all this under the carpet. Discrediting her completely. Or he was covering something up.

  Or knowing Varian, all of the above.

  Either way, perhaps this journal held the answers.

  However first there was something she needed to do. She flipped open the laptop and e-mailed Varian, copying it to head office, Evan, and herself.

  Dear Varian,

  Please accept my resignation fro
m the Sparrow Foundation with immediate effect. I have several weeks leave accumulated and that will serve as my period of notice.

  Dr. L.W.B. Fitzgerald.

  Feeling better than she had in a long time, Lou hit send and closed down the laptop. She curled up on the bed, wrapped herself in the duvet, and began to read.

  23

  June 24

  No one likes the idea of having to move. Frank Philips called a village meeting in the church tonight. He’s talking about going to London and handing in a petition to Downing Street. Father, of course, is dead set against the idea. He can only see the profit and good that will come from the dam. But then he and CS are making far too much money from this venture to want it stopped.

  The weather is more than a little unusual for June. Thick fog sweeps off the mountains each evening, blanketing the village all night, clearing only with dawn’s first light.

  Despite our misgivings and objections, work continues on the dam, day and night. Some are calling it Close’s Folly. Many a true word spoken in jest.

  We are settled into our cottage opposite the church. I use the rooms to the side as a surgery. It has its own door and waiting area. It isn’t perfect, but it will do for now. Both of us are enjoying being away from the manor with all the stresses and strains that brings with it.

  Mabel’s morning sickness has now eased, and she’s adapting to being ‘a lady of leisure’ although I get the impression she would rather be doing work of some sort. Perhaps I’ll let her help out with the receptionist’s duties in the surgery.

  July 3

  Another accident at the dam site. Once again in the fog. That’s the tenth in as many days. A fatality this time—John Perkins, a young lad of only nineteen—crush injuries. There was nothing I could do other than suggest to the foreman he ceases work under the cover of darkness and fog, but he will not listen to a “mere doctor who stands against progress and construction.”

  He seems to forget who will be squire after my father’s passing.

  My beloved Mabel, bless her, wants us to leave this cursed place and take a position somewhere miles from here. She says the babe within her is uneasy. Leaving is exactly what Father wants of me.