Page 18 of The Souls of Lost Lake
“They’re not going to—” Hanny started.
“I don’t know.” Noah gave a quick jerk of his head. “Just stay put.”
“Last thing I was planning to do was leave either of you alone with each other,” Hanny asserted.
Noah’s face colored, and he hustled from the room—a man with a mission and also what seemed like a very burdened soul.
Ava rubbed the top of her left thigh. The muscle was sore. “I don’t remember much of anything.”
“Of course you don’t,” Hanny muttered as she set about pushing Ava’s shoulder gently to get her to lie back against the pillows. “I’m an old woman, and it’s difficult to get through the night. Blessed be the parsonage has indoor plumbing. I was also bent on making sure you two were on the up and up. Sure enough, Preacher Pritchard was asleep in his long johns in bed like the reformed soul he is. But you? You were nowhere to be found.”
Ava knew what had happened now. It’d been so long, she’d hoped they had passed for good. The blackouts. The long periods of time that went by when she sleepwalked, wandered, even held conversations without realizing it. Whenever she was upset, they would get worse. Ever since she was a child. Ever since...
Ava clutched the blanket. “Did the preacher come after me?”
“He did.” Hanny nodded. She leaned forward and unbuttoned Ava’s soiled blouse. “I awakened him, and he headed out to find you. And find you he did.” Her swollen fingers stilled over the second button, and she studied Ava’s face. “Where were you going out there in the woods?”
Ava reached up to place her hand over the old woman’s and the button.
Hanny withdrew her hand. She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “I’m afraid you’re in a heap of trouble, missy. It took Noah over an hour to find your trail heading off into the forest. Now?”
“Now what?” Ava held her blouse together, refusing to remove her last vestige of mustered-up pride.
Hanny sank onto the edge of the bed once more, leaning her cane against the mattress. She rested her hand on Ava’s leg, careful not to touch her knee.
“What is it?” Ava insisted. The old dame might as well tell her, considerin’ she’d know sooner than later in this small town of talkers.
“Jipsy. Woman who raised you with Widower Frisk.”
Of course she knew who Jipsy was!
Hanny swallowed. Her wrinkled cheeks twitched as if she’d rather not say but knew she had to. “They found her this morning. Noah has been called out to be with the Widower Frisk. Someone killed her. They’re saying—”
“It was me,” Ava finished. The hollowness in her voice matching that in her soul.
“Tell me it wasn’t, and I’ll believe you.” Hanny lifted her hand from Ava’s leg and moved it to her cheek. The warm flesh of the fragile palm against Ava’s face brought Ava’s gaze up to meld with Hanny’s. “Noah said he found you hiding in thornbushes. You had some blood on you, but we figured—well, it looks like you’d fallen a few times and it was from that. You had nothing to do with Jipsy dying,” Hanny concluded with a vehemence that made Ava believethe grandmotherly woman over her own betraying memory. “You didn’t.” Hanny patted her cheek.
Ava didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Because she simply didn’t know. The town said killing was in her nature, and when she couldn’t remember—couldn’t account for where she’d been—there was the chance, of course, that they were right. Ava had always been close friends with death, though she could never explain why.
9
Wren
It was just as she had dreamed it was. The woods opened up and Lost Lake spread before them, looking more like a large pond nestled amid a forest of aspen and oak, poplar and cedar.
Wren charged forward, anxious to view the shoreline closer and to erase from her memory the vivid image of the body of a child. It had been just a dream after all. Nothing prophetic. Wren had been telling herself that over and over for the last couple of hours as Troy and Eddie bushwhacked ahead of her through the woods like two men in a wilderness competition.
Eddie’s hand on her wrist stilled her.
“Hold up.”
She exchanged glances with Troy, who shrugged, eyeing Eddie’s hold on her. “Why are we stopping?”
Eddie released her wrist as he surveyed the scene ahead of them. “If your dream has any credibility, then Jasmine could be here. We don’t want to startle her.”
“Dreams aren’t maps to the future,” Troy muttered. Wren offered him an understanding smile, and he raised his brows. “We could barely find this lake, so I doubt Jasmine is even in the area. It’s way outside of the search grid.”
Eddie nodded. “You’re probably right, but what’s the harm in showing some caution?”
