Page 31 of The Souls of Lost Lake
“Don’t you?” Meghan insisted.
Even Ben lifted his head, awaiting Wren’s reply.
Wren opened her mouth, started to answer, then paused. The wrong words right now could be catastrophic for Meghan Riviera’s emotional state.
“I believe Jasmine probably saw a woman in overalls. I know Ava Coons’s legend is all about her being in overalls and—”
“Carrying an ax.” Meghan leveled a satisfiedsomeone believes melook on her husband.
Wren cleared her throat. “Yes.”
“See?” Meghan’s voice filled with urgency. She scooted to theedge of her chair with intense concentration on Wren. “We need to figure out if Ava Coons is out there somewhere! People think my baby just wandered off!” Meghan waved her hand haphazardly. “Wandered off and somehow got lost in the woods! She’ssix! How far would she go? We should have found her by now. I know—Iknowsomething worse happened.”
“Meghan,” Ben started.
“No!” Meghan skewered her husband with a glare. “I am hermother. I feel it.” She clapped her hands over her heart. “I feel it here. Someone took Jasmine. She didn’t just get lost.”
Wren had no words. Her mind had gone completely blank as she took in the anguished worry on Ben’s face, and the fierce determination on Meghan’s.
Ben twisted in his chair and reached for Meghan. Grasping her hands, he sagged toward her, every ounce of him reflecting the anxiety that was in Meghan’s desperate grasp for answers. “Cariño, it is a ghost story. That’s it. A story. If Jasmine saw a woman in overalls, it could have been anyone.”
“Then we need to interview all the women in the area who wear overalls!” Meghan insisted.
“That’s unreasonable,” Ben snapped.
“Youbelieve me, don’t you?” Meghan pushed Ben’s hand from her leg and edged closer to Wren. “That Jasmine has been taken?”
Crud.
“Meghan, I—I don’t know.” She never should have come over here. She’d intended to offer to pray with them. That felt pithy now, but this? She hadn’t expected this. She was sure the authorities had already interrogated the parents for every minute detail that might help. Where had they last seen Jasmine? Was she alone? Why would she have wandered into the forest? Was she familiar with the area? And so on...
“The sweatshirt,” Meghan pleaded. “Jasmine wouldn’t have taken it off. It was her favorite. And if there was b-blood ... that’s Ava Coons’s signature.”
“Ava Coons is just a story. She doesn’t have a signature,” Ben interjected.
Wren saw the look of war on Meghan’s face toward her husband, and she hurried to intervene and avoid a battle. “Ava Coons existed, yes, but no one knows what really happened to her. We don’t know which parts of the story are true and which parts are not, and ... she’s been said to have roamed the forest for decades. Even before she was dead, they said she roamed the forest. She’s ... Ava Coonsisthe forest. But she’s not capable of kidnapping a child.”
Thank you. Ben mouthed his appreciation.
Wren shifted in her chair. She wished she’d sounded more convincing. But it must have been enough, because Meghan sniffed, wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and directed a dismissive look to Ben. “I need to go to the bathroom. I’m going to walk to the lodge.”
“There’sportapotties—”
“I’m going to walk to the lodge.” Meghan’s voice was sharp when she interrupted Wren’s attempt to help. Meghan pushed her metal chair backward, and it scraped on the shed’s concrete floor. She staggered for a moment, and Ben jumped to help her, but she shrugged him off and zeroed in on the exit.
Ben stood helplessly, his arms hanging at his sides. Wren noticed the gray hairs in his sideburns and goatee. She wondered if it was because he’d crossed the threshold of forty, or if it was because his daughter was missing and they’d sprung up overnight.
Wren stood awkwardly, wiping her damp palms on her shorts.
“My wife isn’t crazy.”
“I know.” Wren heard the empathy in her voice. “She’s desperate—you’re both desperate—for answers.”
Ben shook his head and raked his fingers through his hair. “My littlechicais out there. Whether she was lost or taken, she’s out there. Alone. Without herpapi.”
Wren just listened. She wasn’t sure what else to say.
“This story—the one my wife is hung up on—itisjust a story?Sí?”
