Page 73 of The Souls of Lost Lake
“And the sweatshirt they found? The other blood in the woods?” She hated to ask, but there was no skirting the facts.
Meghan shrugged. “There was nothing on the sweatshirt that belonged to anyone other than Jasmine.”
Wren shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Of course they would have run a DNA test on it to see if it belonged to Jasmine.
Meghan smiled weakly. “Ben said the blood they found in the woods came back as animal.”
“Thank God,” Wren breathed.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” A male voice broke into their lunch, and Wren looked up to meet the friendly but unwelcome features of Wayne Sanderson.
Wren gave him a startled glance, mentally running through a zillion frantic ideas as to how to avoid further conversation. This was exactly what Ben hadnotwanted. A run-in with Wayne Sanderson, who only fed Meghan’s fears of abduction and death. Apparently lifting a chip to her mouth was not a subtle enough hint that they were eating and didn’t want to chat.
“I want to apologize for the other day,” Wayne said, seeming sincere. He turned to Wren. “The story of Ava Coons has always been strong with me. Then with Trina having gone missing...” He choked up and looked away for a long moment. “I was insensitive.”
Wren studied him. “Thank you.”
Wayne didn’t leave. He shifted his weight on his other foot as he stood at the end of their booth table. “With the ... uh, recent developments, I sat down with the police and told them my suspicions.”
Meghan’s head jerked up.
Oh no. Wren bit down on the chip in her mouth.
Tears shone in Wayne’s eyes again. He blinked rapidly, and they cleared. “I had to stand by my recommendation. I’ve begged them foryearsto dredge up Lost Lake. I’m not saying your daughter...” He held up his hand and gulped. “I’m simply saying I thought it should be explored when Trina disappeared, and they wouldn’t do it. They were so sure of themselves.” Bitterness laced his words. Wayne shook his head. “Now they’ve found Trina ... but your daughter is still missing.”
Wren gripped the edge of the table. Was he insinuating that Jasmine was at the bottom of Lost Lake? Because it was what he’d believed about Trina Nesbitt?
Meghan sucked in a breath. A sob? Wren wasn’t sure. She reached across the table to rest her hand on Meghan’s. Looking up at Wayne, she half growled, “Mr. Sanderson, what is your interest in Trina Nesbitt?”
Wayne pressed his lips together as he weighed his words. “The chief of police and I go way back, to high school. He knows I wouldn’t suggest a small town like Tempter’s Creek squander its resources on a theory that has little probability of producing results.”
Wren waited. He hadn’t answered her question.
Wayne continued, taking her lack of response as an opening. “I’ve been doing research for years...”
Wren startled as Meghan drew her hand away and scooted to the far end of their booth. “Please,” she said and patted the brown seat. “I want to hear more.” Meghan met Wren’s eyes and held them. “I do, Wren. Anything to find Jasmine.” Her voice broke. “Even—searching Lost Lake.”
Wayne sat down and then reached for a chip, crunching on it without bothering to ask if he could have one. “Lost Lake was central to the murders of the Coons family. The conclusion was that Ava disposed of them in Lost Lake. Years later, they said she hadlittle guardianship or constraints, and she began killing again. It wasn’t until a local preacher apparently took her in that the killings waned. But then Ava disappeared. There is speculation she lived the rest of her years in the forest and around Lost Lake, although no one ever proved that.”
“That has nothing to do with Jasmine—or Trina,” Wren argued, for the sake of logic, reason, and sort of hoping it might shake some sense into her own addled mind.
Wayne reached for another chip. He picked it up and broke it into a few pieces. “Look at Ava Coons like this chip.” Wayne gave Meghan a sideways glance to make sure he had her attention. He did. “You break it into pieces, and most would say you don’t have a chip anymore. But really you do. You just have bits that spread out and touch other parts of your plate. But the chip—or in this case, Ava Coons—started as a whole. The remnants of someone who has infiltrated Tempter’s Creek and still does.”
“And Jasmine saw her,” Meghan affirmed.
Wayne pushed the chip pieces together into a pile.
Wren interjected, “Just because the Coons family became a ghost story doesn’t mean Ava is still haunting the woods.” It couldn’t. But the image of the woman in the Markhams’ driveway made Wren’s insistence lack conviction.
“Doesn’t it?” Wayne’s gaze was direct. “History has a way of repeating itself. People prey off old superstitions.”
Wren eyed Wayne. “So you’re saying the Coons story could be a cover for someone else’s deviousness?”
Wayne nodded. “A diversion. Like a fog to confuse the reality of the situation. Which is that someone took Trina ten years ago. Someone has taken Jasmine.”
“But I thought you believed Ava Coons haunted the woods?” Meghan’s voice was small and unsteady.
Wayne smiled patiently. “Everything in the woods is infused with Ava Coons. It started when she was a child and murdered her family. No one ever truly resolved that case. It went cold. Avadisappeared. Since then, others have too—or they’ve died—with zero explanation.”
