The souls of lost lake, p.16
The Souls of Lost Lake, page 16
“Was she dead?” Eddie’s blunt question startled Wren.
“What do you mean?”
“In your dream. Was Jasmine dead?”
Wren shook her head vehemently. “No. I didn’t see her at all this time. I called for her, but I—it was—I was—missing. It was me. I was the one missing.” Realization seeped into her. Wren turned a confused face toward Eddie. “A woman was calling for me, and evil . . . evil was in the woods.”
“Evil?” Eddie frowned.
Wren realized she was clutching the sheet so tight her knuckles were white. She couldn’t release it. It was as if she held on for the sake of her life.
“What do you mean ‘evil’?” Eddie pressed.
Wren met his eyes. A tear slipped from hers. “There’s evil at Lost Lake, Eddie. I can feel it.”
Concern brewed on his face. For her. Eddie was concerned for her state of mind. But all Wren felt anxious about at the moment was the hand. The rotting hand of wickedness that guarded the secrets, which had begun the day Ava Coons murdered her family.
21
Ava
The woods were alive, and they were evil. Ava could sense it the deeper she went. Hidden out here with the wild creatures were the ghouls of the forest. The souls and spirits that dipped, dodged, and intertwined with the trees. They mocked her. They mocked her memories—or lack thereof.
Ava’s toe hit a root buried under leaves. She lurched forward, falling to the ground, her hands outstretched to catch herself. Skinned palms stung as she rolled to a sitting position. She held them up, dawn’s light stretching through the tree covering. They weren’t bleeding, just scratched.
She looked around her, trying to regain her bearings. They were here, somewhere. The bones of her family. The dusky memories were so vague they taunted Ava with their elusive summons. Beckoning her to remember while playing hide-and-seek at the same time. Nothing in the woods looked familiar. It was all trees, and boulders, and an occasional stream or marshy area. A grove of poplar trees grew in the distance, mimicking birch trees with their white trunks.
Ava frowned. She remembered a small piece of poplar that sat on a rough table. The wood had been partially hollowed out, and someone had put a candle in it. The flame flickered. Licking at the air. Dipping when the air was disturbed.
“Stick yer finger in it.”
Ava jerked her head up. She’d heard the voice as distinctly as if it had been in front of her. Only she was alone. It was her brother’s voice. Just changing from boy to man. Ava closed her eyes to allow the memory to wash over her.
“I ain’t stickin’ my finger in no fire,” she’d argued back.
“Promise won’t hurt none. See?” Arnie swiped his index finger through the candle flame. It came out unscathed.
Intrigued, Ava squirmed to her knees on the wobbly chair she sat on. She half climbed onto the table so she could reach the poplar and its candle. Reaching out her finger, she hesitated. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be.” Arnie swiped his finger into the flame and back again. “See? Not even a blister.”
Ava moved to drag her finger through the flame.
“But ya gotta go quicklike,” Arnie added.
Ava yanked her finger back, her eyes widening. Ricky entered the room, and in a few steps her other brother had taken hold of her hand. His eyes narrowed. They were black.
“Fraidy-cat.” His growl wasn’t teasing. It was mean. Mean and annoyed. He shoved her finger into the flame, but unlike Arnie, he didn’t sweep her finger through it. He held it there. Ava whimpered. The flame touched the nerves in the tip of her finger.
“Ricky!” Arnie yelped.
Ava whimpered again, but Ricky leaned into her, his words a demand in her ear. “Don’t cry. Don’t ever cry.”
But she couldn’t not cry. It hurt. She was a little girl. She wanted her ma. But ma wasn’t there. No one was there to rescue her. No one but—
The door to their cabin flung open and hit the wall.
“Richard!” the voice yelled with authority.
Ava opened her eyes from her perch on the forest floor. A chipmunk sat opposite her on a downed oak tree. Its cheeks were full with food it had scrounged. Ava breathed. Her breath scared the critter, and he dropped to all fours and hurtled away into the woods.
Richard.
The memory of her brother unnerved her. Was it even a memory? Had it happened? And the person at the door, stopping her brother from the fiery abuse. She couldn’t make out the voice in her recollection. Man. Woman. She had no idea. She couldn’t see them.
“They gotta be important somehow,” Ava muttered to herself, scooting to her knees before pushing herself up from the ground. Standing, she stared at the poplar grove. It wasn’t unique. Not really. There were poplar groves interspersed all over in these woods. She could no more claim that bunch of trees as near her family’s cabin than she could say that chipmunk knew the way.
It was time to face the facts. She had no idea where she was going. The part of her that had hoped she’d enter these woods and by instinct head to her childhood home was sorely disappointed. Ava swiped a dead leaf that stuck to her overalls. Maybe it was a good thing she had a memory, but what did a new memory about her brother wanting her to burn her finger off have to do with what happened to them all those years ago? Maybe everything. Probably nothing at all.
Ava kicked at a stick. It snapped.
Jipsy was missing—probably dead.
Matthew Hubbard was definitely dead.
Her family was more than dead, decomposed and turned back to dirt. Ava had seen the carcass of a deer once. She’d been out hunting with Widower Frisk—he always dragged her along so she could carry his burlap sack filled with squirrels he’d shot. She hated that job. Fleas jumping through the sack onto her and bitin’ her. But the dead deer . . . Ava rejoined her original thought. That deer had been all skin and bones, but several hunts later it was just bones, and then even they disappeared for the most part. The skull stayed there. A few ribs. She wondered if they really had turned to dust or if other animals had made off with them. Either way, the forest wasn’t friendly to the dead. It consumed them. It made them its own. Absorbed every drop of blood like a rain shower.
She started forward again. Might as well just try. Wander and try. See if her feet knew the way better than her brain. Ava wasn’t sure what she’d find when she got there anyway. Folks had said years ago that when they’d gone to the Coons home, the cabin had been all burned up. If people in Tempter’s Creek weren’t so dang sure she was a killer, she could’ve just asked someone the way to her family home. She had a feeling it was quite a ways back in. Her family had been loners. Not keen on people and socializing. The farther out they could be, the better. But Ava didn’t know why. Had her daddy just been mean? Maybe he’d been the one to kill them all. Tried to kill her and she’d run away with his weapon? Maybe. Then what happened to him? How’d he disappear?
All these questions and not a lick of an answer.
Ava neared the poplar grove. By now the morning sun was sending light crystals through the air. The white of poplars’ trunks seemed like an oasis in the middle of the dark woods. Fairies could live in here. Fairies or angels. That gave Ava pause. Angels. Did her family turn into angels when they died? Could they even without a proper burial?
A lump—probably a fallen log—lay in the midst of the poplars. Ava wound her way toward it. It seemed out of place there. Seemed to reason if it was a downed tree, it wouldn’t be all gray and lumpy, but white. Like a dead poplar.
She narrowed her eyes as she neared it. No. That wasn’t no downed tree. It was too short for that. A boulder maybe? Ava picked her way through buckthorn bushes, twigs snatching at her overalls. She pushed aside a branch with her left arm and ducked under another. Once in the clearing, Ava stilled.
“Good Lord in heaven . . .” It was a dead body. Human as they came. All curled up with the head tucked in and an arm over its face.
Ava tiptoed toward the corpse as if any noise might awaken it. Nearing it, she crouched next to the body. It was on its side, its back toward her. She looked around for something to turn it over with. She wasn’t of the mind to be touchin’ a dead body. No, thank you.
Finding a stick about two inches in diameter and nearing two feet long, Ava yanked it from its tangle with leaves and undergrowth. Once she gripped it in her left hand, she hooked it through the person’s elbow and tugged. It was a lot harder than she’d expected. Ava tugged again, this time the motion making her balance on her heels unstable.
With a cry, Ava fell forward onto the body. It was stiff and ungiving against her weight. Ava scrambled away from it, and as she did so, her own motion pulled it toward her. She stared at the face. Eyes were vacant, gazing emptily toward the sky. The face was swollen, mouth and lips open. Ava could see that the flesh around the neck was discolored, and the skin under their chin was bloated. As the body landed on its back, a sigh erupted from the body’s mouth. It was as if the dead gave up its spirit at last or somehow was still struggling to find breath through the shape of its shell. It told a tale that was gruesome in its form.
Ava pushed herself away from the body, staring at its profile. At first sight, one might’ve thought it to be the body of a man. But it wasn’t. Jipsy appeared dreadful in death. Her chest was bloodied, crusted over, and black.
Spinning, Ava bent and retched.
Bursting into the parsonage back door might not have been the wisest of decisions. Ava hurtled inside, slamming the door and falling back against it, her chest heaving from her wild run through the woods. Well, if she was bein’ honest, it was more of a run, then stop and gasp for air, run more, then walk really fast.
Noah leaped from his seat at the lunch table, his soup spoon clattering into his bowl.
“Did anyone see you?” Noah barked, hurrying to the front windows and drawing the curtains.
“Don’t think so,” Ava gasped. Her lungs hurt. Her legs hurt. Her eyes hurt after what she’d seen. She’d never been sorely fond of Jipsy, but she’d never wished the woman dead as a doornail. And what did that mean anyway? Dead as a doornail?
The preacher pushed past her and flipped the lock on the back door. He untied the curtains over the sink and let them fall into place before turning the full front of his concerned expression on to Ava.
“What in—are you all right?”
“I found Jipsy!” Ava knew her eyes couldn’t be any wider if she’d propped them open with toothpicks.
“Jipsy?” He leaned back against the sink.
Ava nodded. “Dead. Deader than that deer Mr. Sanderson hit with his truck awhile back. Remember that? Lyin’ in the road for two days ’fore someone moved it? All bloated-like.”
Noah ignored her gruesome description. “Where is she?”
“In the woods!” Ava affirmed.
“Yes, but where in the woods?” Noah pressed.
“In the poplar grove.” Ava furrowed her brow. “I’m guessin’ about a mile or two in past the sawmill.”
“You went past the sawmill?”
Ava could see Noah’s mind spinning. It was one of the most populated places in Tempter’s Creek. “It was still night when I went by. No one saw me. No one saw me now.”
“You don’t know that.” Noah dared a peek out the window, his hand holding the curtain back by an inch or two. He let it fall back into place. “You’re sure it was Jipsy?”
“She hasn’t been dead that long,” Ava nodded. “Still looks like her.” She swallowed down her nausea. “What are we goin’ to do?”
She hadn’t intended on laying the full weight of the problem on Noah. Fact of the matter was, she hadn’t intended on returning to the parsonage ever. But after she’d fallen on top of Jipsy’s stiff body, all of her senses took flight like a flock of crows.
Noah was looking at her strangely.
“What is it?” She realized there were black shutters in the corners of her eyes. Noah was turning all blurry. He was reaching for her. She let him catch her. It felt good—bein’ caught. He was a right bit softer than Jipsy had been.
22
The sound of someone pounding on the door woke Ava with a start.
“Shhh!” Noah pressed his hand against Ava’s arm.
Ava was lying prostrate on the sofa in the front room. She vaguely remembered passing out and Noah catching her as she fell. Now that had been a silly thing to do. She’d never swooned before in her life and—
“Open up, Reverend!” Someone pounded on the door again. It was just out of sight from the front room.
“Shhhh.” Noah held a finger to her lips. His finger was warm where it pressed against her sensitive skin. He stood from his place next to her and headed for the entryway. There was the sound of the front door being opened. She could picture Noah opening it only a fraction and peering out between the crack of the door and the frame, with a foot braced behind the door should someone try to push their way in.
“Sorry for the intrusion.” The voice was Officer Larson’s. Clear as day. It made Ava shrink into the sofa.
“What can I help you with?” Noah’s voice was muffled.
“I had a report that Ava Coons was seen not far from the parsonage here. Just this afternoon.”
“Oh really?” Feigned interest on Noah’s part.
“Yes.”
Silence. Officer Larson was waiting for Noah to offer up information. Noah apparently had no intention of initiating anything.
Officer Larson cleared his throat and asked directly, “Have you seen her?”
“I can ask Hanny if she has.” Deflection seemed to be Noah’s hidden talent.
“Hanny is here?”
“She brought me apple pie just last night.” At least this time Noah wasn’t blatantly lying.
“Has she seen Miss Coons?”
Noah’s response was another evasion. “She didn’t mention anything.”
Larson cleared his throat. “Well, if you see Miss Coons, you will let me know, right?”
“Who reported having seen Miss Coons in the first place?” Noah dodged. “I thought she disappeared when Jipsy did.”
Ava felt the cold from Jipsy’s dead corpse all over again. She shivered.
“Probably shouldn’t be sayin’,” Officer Larson replied. “But, seein’ as you’re the reverend and all, it was Mrs. Sanderson who saw her. Mentioned it to her husband, who let me know right away.”
“The Sandersons don’t even live on this street.” Noah’s observation was astute, yet Ava could tell he was fishing for something.
“I guess she was visiting someone? I didn’t ask. Figured she was credible and had no reason to lie.”
“Certainly not.” Noah accepted the answer as probable.
“Well then, I’ll let you get back to your . . . afternoon.” Officer Larson seemed reluctant to leave. Maybe it was because Noah hadn’t invited him in.
“Thank you” was all Noah said.
Ava heard the door close firmly.
He was gutsy.
She had to hand it to Noah. For bein’ a preacher, he didn’t just sit in a chair, scribbling away on paper until Sunday morning when he rained down all the judgment from heaven on his parishioners. Fact was, Ava hadn’t even heard him whisper a sentence that sounded like he was preachin’. He hadn’t hardly said a word about the Lord either.
“Hurry up,” Noah gritted over his shoulder at her.
Here they were, the two of them, slinking through town like two criminals running from the police. She’d seen a picture in the paper of that one bad guy—John Dillinger—now he was a bit of a looker, if you asked her. In the darkness, Ava could make out Noah’s profile. He was a tad more criminal in looks than most preachers, if she was bein’ honest.
“C’mon!” He waved her into the shadows behind the post office and ducked down by a barrel filled with garbage. The moon was mostly behind the clouds, and it wasn’t quite pitch-dark out yet. Still, Tempter’s Creek had fallen asleep, or at least retired to their homes. When he yanked her down by her overall leg, Ava fell onto the ground beside him.
“Hey! You’re gonna break my leg!”
“Shhh!” He glowered at her, poking his head out from behind the barrel. After a moment, his body relaxed a bit. “Thought I heard someone coming.”
“We’re in a heap of trouble.” Her stating the obvious to Noah likely didn’t help matters.
Noah glanced at her. “Don’t I know it?”
“What plan do you got up your sleeve?” she pressed. Ava had rested during the afternoon, exhaustion having overcome her. When she’d awakened, it was to see Noah in the chair across from her, just watching her. He’d moved quickly on her awakening, and before she knew it, he’d snuck her out of the parsonage under cover of darkness with nary so much as an explanation.
“We’re going to go get Jipsy.” Noah’s quiet proclamation made Ava freeze. Her eyes widened until she was sure they were about ready to pop from her skull. Not unlike what Jipsy’s were probably gonna do soon if they left her out there in the woods too much longer.
“And what are we gonna do with her?”
Noah didn’t bother to answer her but instead gave a wave with his hand and hurried back into the darkness. They ducked and dodged their way out of town—which wasn’t very far—and toward the mill and the woods where Ava had been earlier that day.
She had to admit, it was a whole lot different headin’ back into the dark abyss of the forest with Noah ahead of her. ’Course Ava couldn’t say he was all brawn and muscles, but he was all man, and from the back she could appreciate the appearance of him—again, if she was bein’ honest. He had a way about his movements that seemed to say he wasn’t unused to sneaking around in the night or even wrestling another man if need be.
Ava recalled the letter from Emmaline and how Noah hadn’t even bothered to explain it.
Yes sir. There was something more to Noah Pritchard than simply being a preacher.
The woods swallowed them whole. If the trees had fangs, Ava was sure they’d be mincemeat by now, and she never was a fan of mincemeat pie. She followed Noah, wondering when he was going to bother to stop and ask her in which direction they should go. But he seemed more focused on just getting into the woods deep enough so they weren’t seen. Or followed. Or arrested. Or—
