Down By The Water (14 page)

TWENTY FIVE

I was sitting on the bed, trying to stop myself from shaking, when Jenna poked her head in the door. “What are you doing?”

“
Nothing.”

She stood there for a moment, then came into the room. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” I repeated.

“
You're a terrible liar, Lily.”

I squeezed my left hand in my right one. “Jorgenson.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What did he say?”

I recounted our conversation outside.

Jenna sat down on the floor, cross-legged. She'd braided her hair, a complicated French braid that looked like it had taken hours to do. She tugged on the tail of it as she spoke. “Such a dick. I mean, the girl was found. She's fine. There's not even a crime. Why the hell does he have such a hard-on for you?”

I shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”

She didn't find my attempt at humor very funny and she frowned. “Bullshit. He needs to back off. And I'll say it one more time. We shouldn't be staying here.”

I leaned back on the bed. I was torn. Part of me wanted to pack up, stay at some crappy motel for a couple of days and the second my car was done, floor the accelerator and head for Madison. But part of me agreed with what Ty had said. If I took off, it made me look guilty. What if something else was going on?

“Ty said I should stay.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, I'll bet that made you happy.”

I didn't want to get into it with her. “I don't have any money to go anywhere else. The repairs on the car alone are going to crush me. And you don't have any either.”

Jenna sighed, as if she knew I was right, but she didn't want to admit it. “Still. It's uncomfortable being here.”

“I know.”

“
We could camp somewhere,” she suggested.

I frowned at her. “We don't have a tent.”

“We could sleep in my car.” She hesitated. “I mean, Kyle's car.”

I just stared at her.

“We could call Dad...”

“
No.” My voice was firm. Resolute. “We're not bringing him into this.”

“
But he might be able to help.”

The last thing I wanted to do was bring my parents into the mess I'd created. I would never call our mother; even Jenna knew this. But Dad? He was the one person I would have called, had I been inclined to ask for help. Because he'd always been on my side, had always believed me. Our family was fucked up for a thousand different reasons, most of them related to Rosie's death, but the one thing that had never wavered, that had remained pristine through the whole sullied mess, was my father's love and support. And I wanted to keep it that way.

“Stop,” I said. “We're not leaving. We don't have a choice. We're stuck.”

She made a face but didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. Neither of us had money to go anywhere else. If Ty's father was willing to let us stay, we didn't have a better option.

“So what are we going to do?” Jenna asked.

“
Wait for my car to get fixed.”

“
You said that would be a couple of days.”

I nodded.

“So, we just sit here and twiddle our thumbs?”

I thought about what Ty had said. He wanted to look for answers, to figure out what really happened. Not just to Annie, but to my sister.

I didn't want to tell Jenna. An image from earlier in the day flashed in my head, of the look on her face when I finally realized she was just as messed up from the events of the morning as I had been. The big sister gene I didn't know I had when it came to her kicked in again and I wanted nothing more than to protect her from whatever ugliness we might uncover. Or whatever nothingness, which is what I tended to think Ty and I would find.

“
I don't know,” I said.

“
Great,” she muttered.

“
You can leave,” I reminded her. “You
should
leave. Isn't Kyle waiting for you to bring his car back?”

“
I told you. I've promised him two blow jobs,” she said dismissively. “He's fine.”

I shot her a look of disapproval and she smiled. “Relax. He has access to another car. And I didn't promise him shit.”

I wasn't sure I believed her. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd made a trade like that.

“
Even so,” I said. “You don't need to be here.”

She leaned back on her hands. “You want me to leave?”

I did. I wanted her to get the hell out of Pelican Lake and never look back. Just like our family had done ten years earlier. But I knew my sister. She was wired to do the exact opposite of whatever I said—our time together at Lake Land had pretty much proved that. “I didn't say that.”

“
I already told you. I'm not gonna try and fuck your boyfriend, if that's what you're worried about,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I think he might be gay, anyway.”

“
Yeah, right. Just because every guy you eye-fuck doesn't whip it out for you doesn't meant they're gay.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Most whip it out.”

I shook my head. I didn't want to hear and I didn't want to know.

“
But I'm not leaving anyway,” she said. “I”m not leaving you alone here.” She smiled. “Besides, I have a date.”

I looked at her. “A date?”

She bounced to her feet and it was like our conversation had never happened. She wasn't upset, she wasn't argumentative—she was suddenly smiling, pleased with herself. “Yep.”

“
With who?” But even as I asked, I knew.

“
With Sven. The car guy.” She walked to the door and smiled back at me. “I'll let you know how his transmission is.”

TWENTY SIX

I needed a shower.

I felt like I'd lived through a week's worth of hell—and I looked like it, too. My legs were still streaked with mud and I felt soiled, dirty, by my conversations with Mr. Reilly and the sheriff. I needed to rinse off, let the water strip away the dirt and the worry and the fears. As soon as Jenna left, I grabbed some clean clothes and a towel and headed to the bathroom. I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the shower, wincing just a little as the water touched the cuts on my feet. I stood under the stream of water, letting it pelt my scalp and skin, willing it to wash everything away. I grabbed the bar of soap and glided it along my skin, watching the gray water pool in the tub as it swirled down the drain. I wished I could scrub away the thoughts and fears that were in my head and somehow find a way to step out of that shower a fresh and new me. A me that wasn't haunted by the past, a me that didn't feel guilty for things I had no part of, a me that didn't feel like everyone was now watching me with unveiled suspicion.  

I turned the faucet off and stepped out of the shower. I was clean but I only felt marginally better. I dried myself off, took a long time brushing out my hair so that it felt smooth and tangle-free for the first time in days. I dressed and finally made my way downstairs, dreading who or what might be waiting for me.

But no one was. The house was empty.

It was weirdly quiet and I wondered where everyone had gone. I wandered into the dining room and poked my head in the kitchen but there was no one. I was tempted to go right back up to my room and hibernate until someone showed up. But as much as I wanted to hide myself away, another part of me knew I should do something else. Take the moments when I'd stood up to Sheriff Jorgenson and let them guide my decisions, not my fear. I hesitated for just a moment, then marched as best I could on my tender feet, down the hallway and out the front door. I didn't think anymore, just urged my feet to move forward as I crossed the porch and navigated my way toward the steps.

Campfire smoke drifted in the air and I heard voices off in the distance. The sun had shifted to the west but was still high enough up to offer significant daylight, even in the evening hours. I grabbed a can of bug spray off the front porch and covered myself in it, letting the mosquitos bounce off my freshly cleaned skin.

I remembered our summer nights at the resort. Campfires every night, s'mores over the flames. Games of tag and Capture The Flag with nameless kids from neighboring campsites until it was too dark to see. Bike rides, just to see who was camping near us. I'd forgotten those things, pushed them aside after Rosie's death, vowing never to visit a campground ever again. Now, walking down the dirt trail toward the sites, a wave of nostalgia washed over me and I realized that, even though the memory was tainted, I'd had some good times there, too.

Dave Phillips was stretched out in a kelly green camp chair, the beginnings of a campfire in the ring in front of him, a can of beer in his hand. He wore a black T-shirt with the sleeves cut-off, tan cargo shorts and the same Twins cap he'd had on when I'd first met him on the trail. He was staring into the flames of the fire and started in his chair as I approached.

“Jesus,” he said.

“
I'm sorry,” I said, coming to a halt. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

His lips puckered into a tight line. “You didn't. I mean, you did.” He shook his head. “Never mind. What can I do for you?”

“I...I just wanted to check on your daughter,” I said. “Annie.”

“
She's fine. She's in the camper with her brother,” he said flatly and I knew by the way he said it that either Sheriff Jorgenson or someone else told him about my sister and their suspicion about me.

“
She's really fine?” I asked. “I was the one who found her. I just...”

“
Yeah,” he said. “She's fine.” He took a long drink from the beer. “Anything else?”

I swatted at a mosquito hovering near my arm. “Did she say what happened?”

He took another drink, then glared at me over the beer can. “Why? You worried about what she might say?”

The heat rushed to my face. “No.”

“No? Way I hear it is you should be. And so help me, if I catch your ass down here again...”

“
David!”

We both looked toward the door to their camper. The woman I'd seen that morning, who I'd assumed to be Annie's mother was staring at him, her eyes narrowed and hard.

“Maybe you need to take a walk,” she said to him, coming down the metal stairs from the camper door. “Get some exercise.”

She didn't say those things as questions and he didn't answer. He just stood, glared at me one more time, and headed for the path.

When he was out of earshot, she came over to me. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore the same clothes she'd had on that morning. She looked tired, but not unwelcoming.

“
I'm Cheryl,” she said, reaching out to me.

“
Lily,” I said, shaking her hand.

A small smile forced its way onto her face. “Thank you. For finding Annie.”

“You're welcome,” I said. “I'm glad she was alright.” I paused. “Is she alright?”

Cheryl Phillips nodded. “Yes. She's tired and still a little shaken up, but she's going to be fine.”

I gestured back toward the direction of where her husband had walked. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to cause trouble. I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”

She nodded. “It's alright. I understand. David is...well, he's shaken up, too.” She ran a hand through the bangs hanging over her eyes. “I suppose you understand that feeling.”

A small knot formed in my stomach. “Yes.”

“
I'm sorry,” she said softly. “About your sister.”

So many people had said those words to me over they years that I'd grown numb to them. But hers sounded sincere. And, after what she'd just been through that morning with her own daughter, I knew she was vividly aware of the could-have-beens. She could have ended up just like me, with a daughter gone forever instead of a sister. “Thanks.”

She gestured at the camp chair her husband had been sitting in and then sat down in the matching one across from it. “The sheriff told us about your sister when he talked to us this morning.”

I didn't say anything. I'd figured as much.

“I'm not one to judge people when I don't know them,” she said, leaning back in the chair. “So I'm not going to start now. But I find it hard to believe that the person who found my daughter meant her any harm.”

I swallowed hard. “The only time I'd seen your daughter before I found her was when we were out walking last night.”

She nodded as if she knew that. “David told me.”

“
And I was having breakfast with the Reillys this morning,” I said. “I hadn't even left the house.”

“
You don't have to defend yourself,” she said, the tired smile forcing its way onto her face once again. “I believe you.”

“
You do? Why?”

She shifted her weight in her chair and sighed. “My daughter is...different.”

“I don't understand.”

She stared at the flames crackling in the fire pit. “She's autistic.”

I waited. I wasn't sure how that had Cheryl believing my innocence.

“
Annie's in the camper,” she said. “She watched you walk down here. Through the window.” She motioned toward the camper. “If she was afraid of you, I would've known.”

“
She would've told you?”

She made a face, almost as if she'd been pinched. “In her own way, yes. Her communication skills aren't as good as mine and yours. Or maybe I should say they're different.” She waved her hand in the air. “Regardless, if you presented any danger to her, she would've found a way to let me know.”

I glanced at the camper. Movement fluttered the curtain in the window, but I didn't see a face.

“
Oh, I guarantee she's watching,” Cheryl said. “But she won't let you see her.”

“
Why not?'

She shrugged. “Not sure. She's being coy at the moment.” She smiled again. “She can try your patience.”

I stared at the orange and red flames swirling in the concrete ring. I wasn't exactly sure what she meant by that, about trying one's patience. And I still wasn't entirely clear on why she wasn't blaming me like her husband apparently did.

“
Did she say anything?” I asked. “I mean, afterward? Did she say anything about what happened to her?”

Cheryl Phillips shook her head. “No, and I think that's what's frustrating everyone at this point. But you have to understand. She communicates differently. You can't just have a normal conversation with her. She's not verbal the way other kids her age are. She can speak, but only a few words. And she doesn't always choose to communicate that way, especially if she's scared or frightened.”

“So she hasn't said anything?”

“
I'm afraid not,” she answered. “And she might not ever. That's what David is frustrated with and it's most certainly what that sheriff is frustrated with.” Her expression dimmed. “But we won't be dealing with him anymore.”

“
Why's that?”

“
Because I told him not to come back,” she said, crossing her legs. 

In spite of not feeling very happy, I smiled. “He can have that effect on people.”

She shook her head, her disgust apparent. “He gave me a bad feeling right away. But the way he spoke to Annie...” Her voice trailed off and then she shook her head again. “He will not speak to her again.”

“
Can I ask what he said to her?”

She uncrossed, then recrossed her legs again. “I told him the questions needed to come from me. He refused. So then I warned him that he needed to speak quietly, friendly, if he insisted on trying to talk to her. That he couldn't cross-examine her or come across as agitated, that it would set her off. He made it about two minutes before his entire demeanor changed. He scared the crap out of her.” A look of disgust crossed her face and she motioned again toward the camper. “I guarantee that's part of the reason she doesn't want to come out right now. It might be days before she feels comfortable.” She bit her lip, anger settling into her eyes. “I told him he was not welcome here again.”

I didn't feel good for Annie, but I was pleased that Cheryl Phillips had told Jorgenson to get lost. Maybe it was because I had been on the receiving end of what I thought was his bullying, but I didn't think that many people ever stood up to him. It was nice to meet someone who wasn't afraid of him.

“
But he has it in for you,” she said. “I will tell you that.”

It wasn't great to hear, but it also didn't surprise me. “I know.”

“It was like he was desperate to get something from Annie that would implicate you,” Cheryl said. “And he warned us to stay away from you, kept insinuating that you'd played a role in your sister's death.”

I stared down at my sandals. I knew he thought this, knew he'd shared his suspicions with the Reillys, but it still hurt to know that he was firing off groundless accusations to random strangers.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I don't mean to bring up unpleasant memories. I just thought you should know.”

“
Thank you,” I said. “For telling me. I know what he thinks so it's not a surprise to me. But thank you.”

We sat there for a few minutes, listening to the fire crack and pop and watching the flames lick the darkening sky.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Cheryl looked up. “Sure.”

“Why was she by herself?” I asked.

She sighed. “I don't know. Because we weren't paying attention. So stupid.” Her eyes filled with tears. “She loves water. That's why we came here in the first place. And she can swim like crazy. You have to pull her out of the water with a hook to get her home.”

I listened. She sounded like how Rosie had been at that age.

She smiled. “Anyway, I don't know. I think we were just too...complacent. We're always so vigilant—at least I am—and we're on vacation and we're relaxing and Annie is happy—and easy—for the first time in a long time. And David thought I was watching her and I thought he was watching her and then...she was just gone.”

Her story was so similar to Rosie's. I shivered at the eeriness of it.

“
Bad luck and some bad communication,” Cheryl said as blinked back the tears. “It happens. It's no one's fault.”

I nodded. It made sense. It was what had happened in our family. Maybe not according to the sheriff, but it was what I knew in my heart. I hadn't been paying attention and my sister had wandered off. And died.

But I still needed to ask. “So you don't think anyone...did anything?”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “I don't know. I may never know. I mean, I wasn't there. All I know is what I can get from Annie, which isn't much. You're the only person the sheriff mentioned.”