Ronny nodded. “I told Ian I was going to tell him about the man. He said maybe I could see my parents again.”
“You’re being very brave, Ronny,” Mike replied.
“Well, there’s no time like the present,” Ian said. “So, why don’t we start at the beginning? What happened when you were taking your walk at the lake?”
The old white farmhouse sat on the outskirts of the town of Lena. The road in front was paved with gravel and there were no sidewalks that ran in front of the house or along the side, the only thing that separated the yard from the road was a wide ditch.
Bradley parked his cruiser in front and looked up at the old house. The windows were covered with plywood and there were still remnants of police notices and yellow police tape scattered across the porch. The ornate wrought iron fence was peeling, it’s former white glossy paint chipped away in large patches. The second floor windows were covered with boards and the small widow’s walk was roped off. No smoke rose from the red brick chimney. The porch swing hung by a single chain attached to one arm. The rest of the swing lay broken and rotted below.
“This house looks lonely,” he said.
“And sad,” Mary agreed. “It’s waiting for someone to live in it again.”
Bradley turned to Mary. “So, do you think Emil is going to be able to come back?”
She sighed. “Only if we can prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he didn’t do it,” she said. “If not, even if he’s released, he will always be the kid killer.”
Nodding, Bradley opened his door and walked over to let Mary out. “We’ll do it then,” he said. “We’ve got to find the guy that did this.”
He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the area. “We really don’t want to advertise that we’ve been here,” he said. “Don’t want to get anyone nervous.”
Mary looked around. “Look at the flagstones along the other side of the fence line,” she said, pointing to the large round stones. “They don’t have any snow on them. We could use those and then cut across by the bushes. That would at least disguise any tracks we might leave.”
“Good plan,” he agreed, and he led the way to the porch.
“Okay, the key is under the stone,” she said, once they reached the porch. “Question is… which stone?”
Looking around, there were a number of large stones scattered around the base of the porch. They ranged in color from black to off-white and they were all about the size of a five-pound bag of sugar.
“It’s got to be the big black one,” Bradley said, pointing to the one on the left side of the porch, near the steps.
She shook her head and saw one surrounded by other, smaller stones. “Nope, I’m going with speckled gray.”
They both went to their stones and tugged to pull them up from the ground. After a few moments, Mary was able to pry it up from the ground and saw the black plastic box lying underneath. She turned to Bradley, in time to see him finally dislodge his stone. He turned to her and grinned until she flashed him the plastic box.
“Show off,” he grumbled.
Laughing, she shook it at him.
“Sore loser.”
They turned to the porch steps and stopped. The treads of the stairs were rotted and warped and even Mary’s lighter weight could cause them to give way. She turned to Bradley.
“Any ideas?”
He pulled out his pocket knife, went over to the side of the steps and thrust the blade into the wood directly under the banister. “It’s pretty solid here,” he said. “If we hold on to the banister and climb up this way, we should be okay.”
Nodding, she hurried over. “I’ll go first,” she said. “Then you can catch me if they decide to come crashing down.”
He smiled.
“Another good plan.”
Moments later they were standing by the front door. Mary pulled the key from the box and inserted it into the lock. She heard the latch slide, then turned the knob and pushed the door open with a high pitched squeak.
“That was creepy,” Bradley whispered.
“Yeah, like maybe there are some ghosts in here,” she teased.
His phone’s ring echoed in the quiet house and they both jumped. “Sorry,” he said, pulling the phone from its holster on his belt, he looked down at the caller i.d. “I have to take this.”
Mary nodded and stepped away from him. She pulled a small flashlight out of her purse and took her first good look at the house. She had to admit the house did look a little spooky. There were dust covers over the furniture and small beams of light shining through holes in the old plywood made the rooms look like something from an old gothic horror show.
She started towards the stairs when a motion in the kitchen had her stopping in place. She quickly turned and started in that direction.
“Mary,” Bradley said, stopping her. “We have to go. I have to get back to the office.”
Torn, she looked towards the kitchen and back at Bradley.
“Why don’t you go and I’ll search for the trunks,” she said. “I’ll text Ian and have him pick me up.”
Shaking his head, he walked to her. “I really don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone.”
“Why?” she asked. “Do you think the place is haunted?”
“Mary, this place has been abandoned for years,” he said. “We can search it this afternoon or tomorrow.”
She put her arms around his neck again and kissed him on the lips. “Bradley, I’ve done this kind of thing before, remember,” she said. “I can take care of myself. Besides, you’re only fifteen minutes away. I’ll call you if I run into anything I can’t handle.”
He sighed deeply. “You make it very hard for someone to play the macho male protector.”
“Oh, you don’t have to play that,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “You are the macho male protector.”
“Good line,” he grinned.
She winked at him. “Thanks! Now go and be the hard-nosed police chief we all know and love.”
“Call Ian,” he said.
“Now.”
Tossing him a snappy salute, she then pulled out her cell phone. “Yes sir,” she said. “Now go and make the world a safer place.”
She closed the door after him and slipped the lock back in place; just to be sure she stayed alone in the house. Taking out her phone, she dialed Ian’s number, but got his voice mail.
He’s probably still at the lake
, she thought, remembering the bad reception they had out there. She opened the option for texting.
Ian, I’m at Emil Forrest’s house and I need a ride back into Freeport when you’re done at the lake. Take your time; I’m searching for some evidence. Thanks, Mary.
She added the address and pressed send.
Now to the kitchen
.
Ian walked along the banks of the lake with Mike, Timmy and Ronny gliding alongside him. If anyone were to drive by, they’d see a lone man hiking in the outdoors, talking to himself. He wondered if he should slip his Bluetooth ear piece on, so it wouldn’t look like he was crazy. Shaking his head, he decided that any man walking with three ghosts on a cold winter morning next to a lake probably was crazy, so why try to pretend otherwise.
“So what do you think?” Mike asked him, as the two boys hurried ahead.
“I think I’d like ten minutes with the guy who did this,” Ian replied.
“See and that is what’s wrong with you folks from the UK,” Mike said.
“What?”
“You just take too much time. Thirty seconds, one bullet and that’s all there is to it.”
Ian shook his head. “Not as much satisfaction,” he argued. “I want to see him suffer.”
“Okay, you got a point there.”
They both looked over to Timmy and Ronny, chasing each other through the forest and laughing like ten year old boys should. It all seemed so…normal. Sighing deeply, Ian tried to forget about the conversation they just had with Ronny. Not only were the details of what happened to Ronny horrific, Timmy’s innocent nodding and agreement made it even more disturbing. It was the same person. There were too many similarities to be a coincidence. Whoever killed Ronny had most certainly killed Timmy and the rest of the boys, too.
Suddenly the boys stopped chasing each other and Ronny stared at the lake, frozen in place.
“Hurry, come here,” Timmy called to them. “Ronny needs you.”
Mike easily glided through the woods, but Ian had to climb over the brush and fallen trees to get to them. “What…what is it?” Ian asked, a little out of breath.
Ronny looked up at him, his eyes wide and frightened. “Here,” he stammered. “This is the place…this is where…”
“Yeah, it’s okay,” Mike said. “This is where he hurt you.”
His translucent eyes filled with tears and Ronny nodded.
“But where did he bury you?” Timmy asked.
Ronny lifted his hand and pointed out to the ice-covered lake.
“Out there.”
Ian shook his head. “How will we ever…”
“Hey professor,” Mike said. “Stand back and let a professional handle this.”
Mike glided through the woods to the shore and then walked forward into the water. He really expected to feel the burn of the ice cold water against his skin, but was pleasantly surprised when he realized he felt nothing. The water, and the ice
laying
on top of it, weren’t even disturbed by his presence as he moved further off shore. Slowly he walked towards the middle of the lake, the water getting higher with each step.
When he was chest high in the water, he turned and looked back to shore. Ian and the boys stood on the shore, watching and waiting for him. He waved at them and they waved back. Then he turned back toward the middle of the lake.
Several inches of snow lay on the ice at the edges of the lake, but strong winds had blown most of the snow from the middle and the ice sparkled like diamonds as it caught the rays from the morning sun peeking over the horizon. Habit had him taking a deep breath and bracing himself just before he dove down under the ice and into the murky depth of the lake.
Kicking his powerful legs and arms, he quickly moved forward in the water, leaving the surface far behind. He felt a moment’s panic before he realized he really didn’t have to hold his breath and after that, swimming started to be a surreal experience. Like an astronaut in a self-contained suit, he was able to slow down and really explore the underwater world around him.
The algae and other plant life were less dense toward the center of the lake, and Mike was able to see the underwater terrain more clearly. He moved to the bottom and glided along, viewing the collection of fishing poles, oars, shoes and other paraphernalia that had been dropped from boats throughout the history of the lake.
And then he saw it.
The porcelain whiteness of bone was actually easy to spot among the other shades of brown and green. The small skull lay nestled between several large rocks. Mike moved closer and saw a number of bones scattered in the same area; back bones, rib bones and some longer bones that were either from his arm or his leg. He moved closer and finally found what he was looking for. The rope had been nylon, so it hadn’t deteriorated as it would have if it had been cloth or hemp, and it was still tied around the large rock. The other end of the rope was looped around what must have been Ronny’s pelvic bone. Then he saw where the arm bones and some smaller bones, like those from his hands, lay under the rope, near the rock. Mike felt rage sweep through him as he pictured the young boy tugging desperately on the rope while he slowly drowned in the depths of the lake.
He stepped back and looked around, trying to find some underwater landmarks so he could locate the body once again. Looking up, he could see the sun glinting off the surface about twenty feet above him. He glided up and swam straight up to the surface.
Ian didn’t know why he expected Mike to come out of the water soaking wet and cold, and he found himself a little astonished when Mike glided to the top of the ice, his clothes and body dry. But the look on Mike’s face told him all he needed to know.
He took out a notepad and sketched several distinctive landmarks on the shore that, when intersected, would represent the place Mike now stood and would mark where Ronny’s body lay below.
Ian waved at Mike and watched him glide quickly towards him.