Page 54 of The Lake of Lost Girls

I glowered at him, wondering where he got the audacity to be so openly hostile. He didn’t know my dad. He knew nothing about my relationship with my parents. Not really. What he thought he knew about us ended when my sister went missing twenty-four years earlier.

Everything about my family had changed the day Jess went missing. Ryan only knew someone’s memories of a family that no longer existed.

“Thanks for agreeing to speak to me on such short notice, Sergeant,” Ryan said pleasantly. He held out his hand for the retired detective to shake.

“It’s no problem. I’ve waited a long time for these cases to be solved. To know that at least one of those girls has been found is a light in all this darkness. I can only hope those poor families can get some closure once this is all said and done.”

The retired police detective turned to me. “Hi, nice to meet you …” His words trailed off as his eyes widened. He drew in a shaky breath. “My god,” he breathed. His eyes glistened and I thought he might cry. “You’re the sister, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Hi, I’m Lindsey Fadley.” I gave him a wan smile and held out my hand, but he didn’t take it. He seemed to be in shock.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his weathered hand. “I recognize you. You were only a little girl when I saw you last, but I’d know you anywhere. Jessica was a beautiful young woman with so much life ahead of her. I had really hoped to find her. I’m sorry I didn’t.” He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to get control of himself.

After a few seconds, Sergeant O’Neil composed himself and led us into the house. We sat down on the sagging sofa in the middle of his living room. The furniture smelled musty and every surface was covered in a thick layer of dust. He noticed me looking and gave a half embarrassed chuckle.

“I’m not one for housekeeping. That was always my wife’s job. Since she passed away I’ve not had the heart to put her things away, or even clean up much. It’s all I can do to get through each day.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said softly.

“Thanks. It feels like yesterday, but actually it was two years ago next week. She was a good woman and we had a good life. Cancer got her, and it seems I won’t be far behind.” He didn’t sound sad about it. “That’s why I agreed to talk with you.” He looked at Ryan and picked up a cardboard box from the table and handed it to me. It wasn’t heavy.

“What’s this?” I asked, opening the lid to see piles of paper inside. I drew in a sharp breath. “Is this—?”

“That’s the old case file. Or at least a copy of everything I could get my hands on. Everything I have on those missing girls is in there,” Sergeant O’Neil said as I put the box on the floor by my feet. “I know I shouldn’t have taken it. If anyone knew I had this, I’d be in a lot of trouble. Especially since I’m now sharing it with you. But I need to go out with a clean conscience.”

“Wanting togo out with a clean consciencemakes it sound like you did something wrong,” Ryan said, his words taking on an edge that hadn’t been there before.

“I know how it sounds,” the aging former police officer replied solemnly. “The thing is, you’ve been like a dog with a bone all these years—constant phone calls asking if there was anything new. Seems only right that I talk to you and tell you everything I know. And what I can’t tell you, maybe you can figure out for yourself from what I have in there.”

I could feel Ryan’s eyes on me, but I wouldn’t look at him.

Sergeant O’Neil leaned forward, regarding Ryan closely for the first time. “Do I know you? Have we met before? Because you look awfully familiar.” He scratched his unshaven chin. The man had to be closing in on eighty, though he seemed much older than that. I could imagine that a job like the one he’d had would take its toll. The cases we’d come to ask him about probably aged him significantly. He still seemed sharp as a tack though.

Ryan looked uncomfortable. “Oh, I don’t think so—” he started to say, but I interrupted him.

“He’s Ryan McKay—he was Jess’s boyfriend.”

I wasn’t sure why I had chosen that moment to reveal what I knew, but it felt good to let it out. And perhaps I felt safer in the company of someone else.

Ryan’s head snapped up and I felt his shock. I avoided his gaze, instead focusing on Sergeant O’Neil. He was the one I wanted to talk to. I would speak to Ryan later.

“Oh yes, that’s right. I remember interviewing you at the time.” He picked up one of the notepads on hiscluttered coffee table and flipped through a few pages before putting it down and picking up a different one and doing the same. “Ryan McKay … always thought you said RyanKayfrom theChicago Courierwhen you called. Probably would have put two and two together otherwise. You had been dating Jessica for only a few months when she vanished, right?”

Once again, Ryan was silent, and when I looked at him, I found he was still staring at me, seemingly dazed. I wondered if Sergeant O’Neil had misheard him all these years, or if Ryan had purposefully given him the wrong name when they spoke. I wouldn’t put anything past him at this point.

“That’s right,” he said, his voice hoarse.

My heart sank. I hated to admit that I hoped I had been wrong. That maybe, somehow, I had gotten things mixed up. Which was silly, given the pictures I had found, but that illogical hope was there all the same. But hearing the words from his mouth hurt more than I expected, or wanted, them to.

“I interviewed you several times. Definitely viewed you as a person of interest, no offense, but in cases like this, nine times out of ten it’s the significant other.” Sergeant O’Neil was flipping through the pages of his notepad now, unaware of the bombshell he’d dropped.

Ryan had been a suspect. Of course he had been. It made sense.

“You had an argument right before she went to her parents’ house for her little sister’s birthday party.” He gave me a kind smile of acknowledgment. “By all accounts, it was loud and public.” He tapped the side of his head and smiled. “See, I might be old, but it’s all still up here.”

“You said in ’98 that you didn’t think an unknown serial killer was involved in the women’s disappearances. Do you still believe that?” I asked him, before he got sidetracked.

When you’re leading an investigation, you can’t let rumors dictate things. I know there were a lot of stories swirling around. We had a scared town that we had to keep calm. That was my priority.” Sergeant O’Neil sucked on histeeth noisily. “And I can’t say I ever bought the idea that the North Carolina Boogie Man or some other killer was responsible.”

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