Allan nodded, “Well then you do know how beautiful she was. Like I said, everyone loved her. My parents never got over it. She was their oldest child and I guess they just felt lost after she went missing. My Dad never stopped looking for her either.”
“Really? I thought that whole area was thoroughly searched. What else did he expect to find?” Tommy understood, though, as a father himself, and now a grandfather, he could not imagine if one of his flock went missing. He’d probably search forever as well.
Seeming to relax Allan now expanded his story, sipping his coffee and leaning back in the chair, “After that night - when Kenny and Danny and the others came to Mom and Dad’s house to tell us Donna was missing – there was a search party. I think it was the next morning. They shut down the sawmill, gave everyone the day off with pay, and all the strong men went out to Lilac Lake to search.”
“Wow! That must have made quite the impression,” Tommy had never heard of such commitment, especially back in the sixties. People did not waste a single penny and for the sawmill to pay these men to search, that was unprecedented.
“Dad worked there, see. When he called in the next morning and explained that Donna had gone missing, his foreman said that was the least he could do to help. The men made a long chain – a human chain – and all walked in a row up and down around the lake, then through the surrounding forest. They never found nothing, not even a hair or a shoe or a footprint.” Allan picked up a napkin and wiped the corner of his eye, then continued.
“That wasn’t good enough for Dad, though. He kept looking. He went up there at least once a week and just walked and walked. I went with him a couple of times. He even called out her name, ‘Donna’, like she would just answer out of the blue. Even after a year.”
“He went up there for a year?” Tommy was aghast.
“Yup. Then he fell.”
“Fell?”
“Well, tripped, I guess. He was going up a hill in a particularly woody part of the bushes. I was sitting in the car with Mom and we heard him yell. Both of us ran into the forest and found him sprawled out over a fallen tree. I mean, it was a huge tree, I don’t know how he missed it. Said he was looking up. I think he’d probably looked at that ground so many times he finally decided to check if she was hiding in the trees or something. Not sure. He went a little weird after Donna disappeared. Anyhow, Mom and I tried to help him up, but we saw that a stick had punctured his jacket just below the collar bone. When I pulled down the zipper, I could see the stick penetrating right through his ribs. Punctured one of his lungs.”
“Was he okay?” Tommy considered his question, but let it sit.
“Died. Not then, but eight years later. He was a smoker, but the docs said that injury gave the cancer something to grow on. Like a catalyst. Anyhow, he was never the same after the fall, but he couldn’t quit smoking, so, the cancer got him in the end. But my opinion is this whole ordeal with Donna led to his death. It’s that fucking Kenny’s fault.”
Tommy could see Allan starting to get agitated, but he didn’t want him to stop talking. This information was great for his story, true, but he was now feeling sorry for Allan. Maybe talking would help him deal with some of his anger. “Do you remember anything else from…that night, Allan? Anything you want me to know? Maybe it will help when I’m talking to Kenny to get him to tell me a little more.”
“Hmmm, I remember the policeman who came to our door. The guys went into the station to give their statement, but Cheryl, she never ever did give a statement herself. After that, a policeman came out to see my mom and dad. Get information about Donna and what kind of person she was and whether she had ever run away before. Shit like that. I even remember his name – Sergeant Schmidt. He followed the case until he retired. Dad was already dead by then, but I think he made an impression on Sergeant Schmidt. That guy never gave up. My family all went to his funeral when he died. God, it’s been like almost twenty years since Schmidt died. Donna’s been missing for almost forty. I’ve never really put the times to it before. So long ago. It’s like time’s stood still.”
Tommy pulled out a notepad and a pen, “Do you mind, Allan? I’d like to make a couple of notes. Sergeant Schmidt – right?” Allan nodded and Tommy wrote down the name along with a couple of other notes.
“If you want people’s opinions, Mr. Coleman…” Allan started.
“Please, Tommy. We’re almost the same age, Allan.”
“Right, Tommy. Well, if you want people’s opinions - I mean other people, not my family – there’s actually a page on social media. People won’t let it rest. Even people who weren’t even born yet when Donna went missing. They all think they know exactly what happened. You should check that out.”
“Thanks Allan, I will. Any other suggestions?” Tommy could use all the help he could get to trigger Kenny’s confession, or so he assumed it would be.
“Talk to Cheryl Walker, I mean Campbell now…I guess for the last almost 40 years actually.”
“She’s still around?” Tommy had no idea. Kenny had mentioned that Cheryl and Danny had gotten married, but he hadn’t said where they lived.
“Yup. That nutty bitch lives in a broken-down old shack out on West Side road. Just about at the bend where her old man ditched his car. Doesn’t get out much. A couple of her kids live in town and they take her groceries and shit she needs. She does come into town once in a while, though and I’m not kidding when I tell you that bitch is crazy. Talks to herself, dresses like a hippie, and smokes like a chimney. But…she’s never told her version of what happened that day…with Donna. They were best friends you know? Donna and Cheryl. I do remember Cheryl had that hot car when she was a teenager. That Bel Air…I wonder what ever happened to it?”
Tommy knew exactly what had happened to it, or at least he knew where it was. It was parked in Kenny Hughes’s front yard, under a canvas garage, right next to Kenny’s own Dodge Ram truck. Should he tell Allan, or would that cause problems? He didn’t need to consider it any longer as Allan continued.
“Cheryl might tell you what happened, especially if you tell her Kenny’s singing. That might just be the push she needs to get over the hump. Even though I’m pretty sure I know what happened, it would be nice to know for sure.”
“And what do you think…know happened, Allan?” they had been dancing around this too long and now Tommy wanted to know, not just guess.
“He fucking killed her!” Allan spat out.
“Who?” Tommy asked for clarification.
“Kenny killed Donna.” Allan said as if it were obvious.
“But, why? He loved her.” Tommy was sure of the same, but he really wanted to hear Allan’s speculation.
“Because she wouldn’t have sex with him. Or maybe she did and then got mad at him. Or maybe he raped her.” Allan was escalating again and held the crushed napkin to his face.
“There were other people there, Allan. Why do you think it was Kenny?” Tommy was pushing now.
“Rumor has it that other guy, Greg what’s-his-name…Bennett…he told the police that he had sex with Donna. Said she was all over him like a dog in heat and he took her into the bushes and gave it to her. Said it was consensual. That’s the rumor, anyhow. So, my thoughts are, Kenny and her were dating and that made Kenny mad. They got into a fight and he killed her.” Allan was breathing rapidly and took a sip of his coffee.
“Wow, I never heard that before,” Tommy did not tell Allan that Kenny had already confessed to having sex with Donna. He said she had been a virgin. Now Tommy was hearing that Greg also had sex with Donna? Was one of these guys lying, or did they gang-rape her? Tommy now had a lot more to think about. He knew that Kenny was not telling the whole story to him, but he had never suspected that maybe Kenny was not telling him the truth at all. “Why wouldn’t the others turn Kenny in?”
“Kenny was like the gang leader of their little posse. And they had a drug business going on…him and Danny, and that Greg guy, too. They ended up going to j
ail for that. Not long enough if you ask me.”
“But…why wouldn’t they come clean after that. After all, they’d been in jail, I would think the other two would turn on him and spill the beans. Get the heat off themselves.” Tommy made a couple more notes on his pad.
“Yeah, you’d think. Maybe they thought they’d all be implicated, and their taste of jail wasn’t so fun. Maybe he was threatening them.” Now Allan was just speculating. Tommy realized that Allan had never spent any good time thinking about their motive for secrecy.
“Or maybe she ran away,” Tommy filled in.
“She didn’t fucking run away,” Allan stood up, “I think I’m done. You send me that story when you get it written. I deserve that much.” Allan threw a business card on the table, ‘Richardson Restorations’ it read, ‘Cars, furniture and floor restoration. Call for a quote 206-555-4700’.
Chapter Six
Flicking the power on his laptop, Tommy settled into the overstuffed chair in his rented motel room and cracked open a cold beer. What a day already. This town was full of characters, as he well knew, and he was starting to remember why his family had moved him away.
*
It had started when he was around fourteen. He had been a late bloomer and now a growth spurt had shot Tommy up to 6’3” in only a few months. But he hadn’t put on any extra weight, and now his buck twenty-eight made him look like he had just gotten back from the holocaust. Tommy had worn glasses from a young age, and they had progressively gotten thicker over the years. By the time he was a teen they were basically glass coke bottle bottoms stuck into thick black frames. Tommy had picked out a pair that he thought was similar to those Paul McCartney of the Beatles wore, but somehow on Tommy, they just looked odd. His teeth were bound by pointy silver braces that always felt like they were jutting from his mouth like unnatural fangs. And to top it all off, he had developed a severe case of adolescent acne.
Now he was a target for bullies. It was like they were drawn to him, no one else existed when Tommy was around. These bullies could make themselves feel so much superior by picking on Tommy and pointing out his many faults. Of course, that fact that Tommy was brilliant, and actually had a pretty good sense of humour meant nothing to these bozos. They made his life miserable.
Every day was something new to look forward to. They’d put glue on his desk seat, throw pencil erasers at the back of his head, make clucking noises when he walked down the hall, and pushed his face into the fountain when he was trying to take a drink. At least once a month after school, he would find his bike with its tire slashed. There were a few times when one of these bullies actually took a swipe at him and Tommy came home several times with a bloody nose. His parents had complained to the school, but there was nothing they could do, as no one would back Tommy’s story.
One time the chess club had gone into a state competition and Tommy was doing very well. He had made it all the way to the semi-finals in Spokane. His parents drove him up there for the weekend and his whole family had stayed with his grandparents. They had all gone to the tournament the next day. Unfortunately, so did five of the school bullies. He guessed they thought it was funny, but for Tommy it was devastating. When Tommy and his competitor walked on stage the crowd clapped and cheered. But these five bullies stood up and started booing. They yelled and called out obscenities directed at Tommy, leaving the other kid on stage to just gawk. A few people in the audience giggled, but soon some competition officials ushered the bullies out, but they had got what they wanted. Tommy was embarrassed and so shaken that he completely flubbed the entire chess game. He was crushed by the other player. After the game, Tommy ran to his family and buried his face in his mother’s shirt, bawling uncontrollably. They navigated through the crowd, all staring at Tommy, his mother holding his head to her shoulder, out to the parking lot. Tommy never played chess again.
He’d tried once to get back at those jerks. Tommy was lead editor on the school newspaper. He wrote scathing story discussing petty crimes that had happened in the town over the last few years and naming the each one of the bullies as the culprits who had committed them. He had no evidence; he had no proof. He had just wanted to blame them for something…anything. It was really just a big lie, but he printed it anyhow.
After the issue came out that week, the bullies were pulled into the office by the principal. None of them had read the newspaper; Tommy bet only one of them even knew how to read. Then Tommy was called into the office. His parents were there, and so were the bullies. The principal had made Tommy apologize to them and shake each and every one of their hands, their smirking faces glaring back at him. The terrorizing after that escalated.
After Tommy was chased home on his bike by a car after school one afternoon, his parents decided enough was enough. They pulled Tommy out of school and hired one of the teachers to tutor his last two months of high school at home. He was allowed to attend graduation, and even though Tommy had the highest-class average, his parents decided it would not be a good idea for Tommy to be Valedictorian. The speech would put him in too much of a spotlight. A week after graduation, his father announced that he had gotten a job in Portland and they were moving. Tommy had only been back twice, and that was in the ‘70s, to visit a buddy who still lived here. It was not worth his while and he had just tried to forget the place.
*
It had only been five minutes, but it seemed like an hour as Tommy’s mind swirled with the memories of his high school years. Now the sign-on page appeared on his laptop and Tommy typed in his pin, then waited for the booting process to finish. He picked up his notepad and looked at the notes from this afternoon’s conversation with Allan. A social media page about Washington cold case files he read from his notes, then typed into the search bar adding Donna Richardson’s name, and pressed enter. Then he waited.
There must have been three or four pages of hits, then a few pages with nothing related to Donna, then the articles started up again, this time pointed to more vague sources, some of them all the way from Europe. Wow, a good story does spread. Tommy scrolled through the pages, hunting specifically for the social media cold case page. He found it on the first page of results. He clicked and it opened to his social media platform. He had to search through that page again with Donna’s name and finally found a private group, totally dedicated to Donna Richardson.
Comment after comment filled the page. The trail indicated there were prior comments and more comments, but it also said there were over 1.5k comments. Tommy decided to just start reading where he was and go forward from there.
Cherri Spencer Kaitlyn, how long did you live in the county for? And when? Felt you needed to checkout my profile did ya? I maybe young but old enough to know there R 2 sides to a story and I am assuming since you’ve only been married 2 yrs you have only recently maybe the last 4 or 5 yrs decided to bring yourself into this story…I’ll let ya in on a little secret that hand I hold on my profile photo has been in the valley since about 1935 if not before that, he helped with tracking of Donna the whole time, and he has said time and time again that they kept looking in the wrong places, once they lost scent of her at the road with he dogs, they should start looked else where but never did…
Veronica Walker ˃ Cherri Spencer you are right they should have looked else where who ever came in that car knows what really happened to her.
Dusty Peters > Veronica Walker there was no car, cover up story.
Kaitlyn Tofield > Cherri Spencer Maybe I haven’t been in this county too long, but my husband was born here and he’s been telling me about this story since the day we got married. He was born that year it happened, 1965, and he says he knows everything about it. I’d believe him more than you, you busy body.
Cherri Spencer > Kaitlyn Tofield Oh, I see Miss Know It All, your husband, who was a baby, knows more than me. I was fucking 15 years old, Kaitlyn. I can remember a lot of shit that happened back then, and I can tell you, I sure as hell won’t forget this. One of them was
my second cousin.
Cynthia Walker Mcleod There was nothing of Donna ever found…no shoe, no sock, no thread of clothing, no blood…nothing, so maybe all you experts can tell us how four young people could do away with an 18-year-old person and not leave one single trace. I’m pretty sure if these kids did anything to Donna there would have been some kind of evidence left out there somewhere, and it’s quite likely that at least one of them would have cracked by now. Don’t take everything you read in the newspaper as fact and don’t believe that they print ALL the facts. I didn’t read anywhere in the newspaper article that there were two First Nations guys out there that day and they told police that they saw a vehicle in the area. The article also said nothing about the tracking dogs that stopped tracking at the edge of the road. Those four people, who are also victims were the only suspects ever investigated. I hope Cold Case Washington find answers but I hope they thoroughly investigate their information and their sources before they print anything because what they’ve put on social media is pretty biased. For the sake of Donna, the entire Richardson family and the four friends that were with her that day I hope Sergeant Lewis is still working on this cold case.
Robbie Gunstrum So those teens are in their 70’s now, they should be re-interviewed while they’re still alive.
Kelly Gunstrum Mikelldorf > Robbie Gunstrum yes, and all these years later some of them probably want to ease their consciousness and tell the truth!
Kelly Gunstrum Mikelldorf > Leslie Richardson you, or somebody in the family should contact the police and ask that the investigation be reopened before the people that know what happened die. There’s no statute on murder and all it will take is some eager officer who’s willing to reopen a cold case to get somebody at least looking again.
The Girl in the Lake Page 4