Chapter 1
June, forty-five years ago
The old beat up truck edged to the side of the road and pulled to a stop in front of a sandy haired young man who tossed his things in the back bed of the pick-up, opened the passenger side door and climbed in.
“I called in sick,” Dan said with a cheery smile.
“You don’t look sick,” Bobby replied. He turned the steering wheel to the left and pressed on the gas pedal.
“I don’t feel sick either,” Dan chuckled.
“You’ve only been out of school and working for four days,” Bobby said. “Is it a good idea to call in sick already? And, on a day like this? Would seem pretty obvious you aren’t sick.”
“You only live once,” Dan answered. The breeze from the open window tousled his hair. “I don’t know how I’m going to stand working every day. It’s worse than being in school.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Bobby said. “I’m glad to be making some money. I wouldn’t want to be back in school.”
“Well, the fish better bite in case I lose my job,” Dan said.
“You better have a good day off, fish or no fish,” Bobby said.
“The sun’s shining. We got cold ones in the cooler. It’s a good day already.”
The truck traveled past farms and fields as they followed the back roads to the Howland State Park. The old, tinny speakers blared Three Dog Night’s song Shambala and Bobby’s fingers tapped the steering wheel in time to the beat. Dan sang along, his voice high, loud, and pitchy.
“Ugh.” Bobby groaned at the singing and took one hand off the wheel to cover his right ear in mock disgust. Dan sang louder.
After another mile, Bobby slowed his vehicle and turned onto the dirt lane that led to the clearing in the woods. From there, they would walk the trail down to the lake. The truck bumped along as the wheels dipped and rose over the ruts. A branch swished against the side of the truck. After a few more yards, Bobby pulled over as far as he could to get the truck off the narrow back road. There would be barely enough room to turn the pick-up around when it was time to leave.
“Jeez, how am I going to get out? I’m rammed right up against the trees,” Dan protested.
“Climb out my way,” Bobby told him.
Bobby took the cooler and Dan pulled the fishing gear out of the back. They walked along the wooded dirt road towards the field and the trails to the lake. The air was still, and the early morning sun was blazing in the hazy June sky.
“I hope you brought some bug spray.” Dan swatted at mosquitoes.
“Just gonna have to suffer.”
The clearing was up ahead. The two young men saw a dark blue Ford parked in the tall grass. The sun glinting off the hot metal was blinding.
“Looks like we’ll have company at the lake,” Bobby said. “Why’d they park in the middle of the field?
The young men stepped through the long grass towards the car. The left rear door was open.
“They left the door open,” Bobby noted. “Battery’ll be dead.”
“I’ll shut it.” Dan headed over to the car but when he got close he stopped short. He stood frozen, his eyes wide, staring at the ground next to the Ford.
“No.” His voice quivered. He took a clumsy step back. “No.” Dan’s strained voice was just above a whisper. “Bobby, get over here.”
The sound of Dan’s voice made the hair on Bobby’s arms stand up. “What’s the matter with you?” He came up on Dan’s left side and saw what was lying beside the car. “What the...?” He dropped the cooler. His stomach felt like it was filled with ice water. He turned around and vomited into the grass.
A young woman was on the ground, lying face up, her head partially under the left side of the car. Her eyes were open but she didn’t see anything. The blood that had soaked her yellow shirt and white shorts was dry now. The throat was slashed, the wound parted wide. Blood covered the pale skin and had run down both sides of her neck onto the grass.
“What the hell?” Bobby wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Sweat was beading on his forehead. He shot a quick glance at Dan, averting his gaze from what was on the ground. His eyes were wild as they swept around the clearing. “Who’d do this? Who’d do this?” He choked on his words. His chest heaved up and down. He shuffled his feet two steps backwards. “We gotta get out of here. We gotta report this.”
“Hold on. Wait.” Dan stepped around the woman to peer into the car.
“What are you doing? Come on, Dan. Don’t touch nothing.” Bobby wouldn’t look at the blue car. He took two more steps away from the scene and wheeled around.
“There’s a kid. A little girl. In the front seat.”
Bobby kept his eyes focused in the direction of his truck. “A girl? She okay?”
Dan whispered a curse.
“What? What now?”
“Man,” Dan muttered.
“What is it?” Bobby asked but he didn’t want to know.
“She’s dead. Throat’s slit.”
“Oh, no.” Bobby lurched away. He was shaking. His head buzzed. “A kid? What the hell? We gotta get out of here. Dan, come on.” Bobby took off through the field. He wasn’t waiting to see if Dan was following.
Dan’s legs wouldn’t move. He was stuck in the spot, staring through watery eyes at the little girl sprawled in the front seat. She was half leaning against the passenger side door of the car, her skin white, so white, the ends of her long blonde hair crusted with blood. Her eyes were open. Flies buzzed around her.
Dan’s lower lip trembled. “Damn bugs,” he whispered. His blood had drained out of his head. He swallowed some air. His breath was coming in gasps. A tear escaped from his eye and rolled down his cheek.
“Come on!” Bobby yelled to him from across the field.
Dan shook himself, backed away, and ran after Bobby to the truck.
A kid, a kid.
Chapter 2
June – Present day
Olivia sat cross-legged on the living room floor of the two-hundred-year old Colonial house going through stacks of old newspapers. She had promised her cousin John that she would help clean out the attic while she was staying at his house. Now that she saw all the stuff crammed up there, she was sorry she said she would do it.
John groaned as he lugged his suitcase down the stairs and let it thud against the front door.
“You travel light, huh, John?” Olivia said, her eyes on the papers.
John waved his hand in the air. “I’m always afraid I don’t have enough clothes with me,” he said. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm. “This humidity kills me. It seems like the weather gets hotter and more humid every year.”
He plopped in the big, soft easy chair across from Olivia. A chocolate Lab roused itself from a nap and tried to climb into the chair with John. Her long, pink tongue rolled over John’s face and he put his two hands against her chest to push her away.
“Lily. Jeez. No.”
“You said you were hot. She’s trying to cool you off,” Olivia said without looking up. She pulled the elastic from her wrist and used it to put her hair up into a high ponytail. The fan on the coffee table wasn’t doing much but blowing the hot air around.
“Liv, there are two portable air conditioning units in the basement. If this heat keeps up, you might want to bring them up. They’re easy to install. I should have done it but I didn’t know a heat wave was settling in.”
“Okay. I might use them if the heat doesn’t break soon.” Olivia was reading the headline of the old newspaper from forty-five years ago reporting a double murder. On the front page was a picture of a dark haired young woman and beside it, a picture of a blonde girl about four years old.
“Why did your dad keep these?” Olivia asked.
“Oh, you know how my dad was. He loved old newspapers.” John looked down to see what Olivia was reading.
“That’s Mary and her daughter Kimmy. They were murdered here in town, about forty-five years ago.”
Olivia grimaced.
“They were our cousins,” John added.
Olivia looked up. “What?”
“Yeah, second cousins or something. The killer was never caught.”
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