CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Jo sat at the far end of the bar, facing the door. She was drinking soda. It was too early for beer and, technically, the bar wasn’t open. Eddie was kind enough to let her sit inside, out of the rain, although the storm had ended some time ago. He was in one of his moods and didn’t offer much conversation, which was just as well. She didn’t feel much like talking anyway.

She twisted her hair and let it fall in front of her shoulder. Her shirt was damp and her feet dirty from traipsing around the lake in flip-flops. She had searched everywhere after first stopping at Megan’s cabin, where Megan made a point of telling Jo that she hadn’t seen Caroline since they rode their bikes to the Country Store the day before. The Pavilion was open, but empty. She hoped Kevin had better luck. She checked her phone, considered calling her boss one more time, but she couldn’t get a signal. She dropped it onto the bar. So that was that.

The crowd that had been on the docks started trickling in. Heil walked in with Stimpy and a couple of other fishermen, and she found herself amidst another community meeting. She sat on the edge of the stool and gripped the soda in front of her, wondering if Patricia would show up. She had to find a way to get Patricia alone and ask how she knew Billy, and why she acted as though he was still alive.

The men were seated and the discussion started.

“Why is the sheriff asking questions about that boy Billy and those bones?” one of Stimpy’s cronies asked. “Why’s he bugging us? He said nothing’s official, so why’s he drudging up old news?”

Jo steadied herself, not making eye contact with any of the men. Although she could’ve sworn every one of them glanced in her direction at the mention of Billy’s name.

“I’ll talk to the sheriff,” Heil said.

“It’s bad enough that girl is still out there,” someone bellowed. “He keeps talking about those bones, and he’s going to scare people away.”

“Hell, I don’t think they’re scared. I think they’re bored,” Jonathon jumped in. “I had two families pack up their vehicles and head home,” he said. “No one wants to hang around the lake in the summer heat if they can’t enjoy the water. Although it’s tragic what happened, people are restless. They’re good people, hardworking people, who spent their hard-earned money to come here. They want to spend their time on the lake fishing and swimming. It’s what they expect, or they want their money back.”

Some of the other cabin owners chimed in, complaining they, too, had worked hard to fill their rentals and couldn’t afford refunds or cancelations.

“What about the Trout Festival in a few days? There are a couple hundred people or more expected to come. The kids expect to fish in the tournament. We can’t disappoint the kids,” the father of the Needlemeyer twins said.

“Okay, okay.” Heil held up his hands to quiet them down. “We’re not canceling the festival or the fishing tournament.”

“Well, this mess has to be cleaned up by then. We can’t have a tournament while there’s a boat out there dragging the lake for that little girl’s body,” Jonathon said.

Heil stared at the men long and hard. “You’re not going to lose anymore renters,” he said to Jonathon. “And no one’s canceling anything,” he said to all of them.

“But I swear, I saw the families packing up the Blue Hen,” a man from the back of the room said.

The crowd murmured. It was true. Other renters were talking about leaving. The gossip went round and round.

“Not one person has rented a boat in five damn days,” Stimpy said.

Nate chimed in about not having any customers, about how he, too, couldn’t afford to lose any more money.

“Let’s face it: nobody is going to get near the water with those boats out there looking for that little girl,” one of the men said.

Another said, “It’s been too long. What’s the likelihood of finding her now anyway?”

“You mean what’s the likelihood there’s anything left to find,” someone said. The group nodded its assent. “They’ll never find scraps. The lake is too damn big. She was small to begin with.”

“You brought up a good point.” Heil’s voice boomed over the crowd. He pulled his shorts high on his expansive stomach. “Maybe we can talk the recovery team into limiting their search to early morning. There aren’t many of them left now anyway.”

“What about us?” Stimpy asked, motioning to his gang of fishermen.

“Same goes for you,” Heil said. “Trap more snappers, but leave them in their cages. Let everybody swim and fish and enjoy themselves. We can pick up the search in the off-hours.” He paused. “Although I agree, there’s probably not much left of her to find.”

Kevin stepped inside the bar as the rumble of the crowd subsided. Jo immediately went over to him. She grabbed his hand and led him down the stairs to the parking lot. She wanted to know if he had found Caroline, but she couldn’t ask him here, not with Heil and the fishermen within earshot.

“Did you find her?” she asked once they were outside and alone.

“No.” He stepped closer to her. He smelled wet like the rain mixed with cigarette smoke, but underneath it all, she smelled the soap on his skin, a scent unique to him. “Would you please tell me what’s going on,” he said.

“Caroline opened Stimpy’s traps and let the snappers out.”

“That doesn’t sound like something she would do.”

“I know. But I’m pretty sure she did.”

“Come on, why would she do that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand her sometimes. Maybe she thought it was cruel to capture them.” Caroline may have believed the ends didn’t justify the means, and although Jo was frustrated with her daughter, she also couldn’t help but feel proud of her too. In some ways Caroline was right. It was brutal both to the turtles, the ones who got tangled in the lines, and to the little girl now thought of as bait. It was a harsh reality. Sometimes life was cruel.

Kevin nodded.

She motioned to the bar, to where Heil and the group of men plotted inside. “They want to give up the search,” she said. “And the sheriff”—she kept her voice low—“he was asking some of the men questions … you know, about Billy.”

She waited for him to say something, anything, but he remained quiet. He always acted crazy whenever she brought up Billy. He wouldn’t even look at her.

Then he said, “Why don’t you go see if Caroline is back at the cabin with Gram? I’ll find out what’s going on inside.” He took the stairs two at a time.

She looked across the parking lot, spotting Sheriff Borg and Patricia, and then turned her gaze to the lake and the lone watercraft with the last three men from the recovery team.

She raced up the hill to Lake Road and the cabin.

*   *   *

Jo pushed open the door to the screened-in porch. Inside she found Caroline and Gram sitting on the porch swing with a photo album opened in their laps. Gram exchanged a look with Jo and shook her head: a motion that Jo understood to mean that Gram didn’t want her to confront her daughter. She wanted her to keep quiet. But since when did Jo listen to Gram?

“Caroline, where have you been?” She crossed her arms and looked down at the flip-flops on her daughter’s feet.

“I went for a bike ride,” Caroline said, and avoided looking at Jo in an attempt to hide her lying eyes.

Jo could always tell when Caroline was lying. She was terrible at hiding her emotions. Her face gave her away every time. All Jo had to do was look at her daughter to know what she was feeling on the inside. She suspected it had to do with her age and innocence. Thank goodness, her daughter at least had that.

“You wore flip-flops to ride your bike? Where are your sneakers?” she asked.

“I couldn’t find them.”

“Because they were covered in mud and Gram had to throw them away. Do you want to tell me how they got so dirty?”