Page 112 of The Lake of Lost Girls

Somehow, it all made sense. Perfect, horrible sense.

Everything from then and now, all combining into this one awful reality. Jess had killed all of those innocent women.

Because my dad had driven her to it.

And then he had killed her.

My father had murdered my sister.

“Where is she?” I asked again.

I watched as he shook his head, his face contorted in anguish. I glanced at Ryan. He was still staring blankly into space, his face ashen.

“I’m sorry,” Dad whispered, his agony palpable.

I didn’t care about his guilt, all that mattered was the truth.

Ben Fadley:

The police came. We filed a missing person’s report.

All the while she waited for me in the garage.

That night after Lindsey and Cara were finally asleep, I slipped out of the house and hooked up the paddleboat to the back of the Mustang as I had done a hundred times before. Then I drove my little girl to the only spot I could take her.

I carefully bundled her up and prepared to put her in the boat. I stood there, on the shore, holding her like I had done a thousand times before. I rocked her, pressing her to my chest. The gleam of the water in the moonlight bore a sad witness to our tragedy.

“I’m so sorry,” I cried, holding her one last time.

She was so beautiful. She could be sleeping.

A flash of lights at the shore startled me, I could see a car driving through the trees. The car parked, its music blaring.

In a frenzy to conceal her and retie the boat to the Mustang, I broke the right taillight with the metal hitch. I would never be able to bring myself to fix it.

And then, I made the long, terrible journey back home.

With my dead daughter.

Careful to be as quiet as possible, I lifted the garage door, turned off the engine and pushed the car and boat back inside.

Then, under the cover of that horrible night, I wrapped my sweet Jess in some plastic sheeting we had used when decorating. I secured it tightly with duct tape and then I put her in the bottom of the boat.

The same boat we used to take out on those still, murky waters.

And I kept her close.

Explaining the smell away and covering the stink of decay as best I could. Surprisingly, no one ever questioned it.

I always intended on taking her out to the lake, but eventually, I appreciated having her nearby. I could go out to the garage and talk to her like she was still there.

And in those quiet moments, I didn’t feel her anger or her hatred.

Only her love.

Lindsey:

Dad led me out to the garage. He lifted the tarp, revealing the boat for the first time.

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