Page 7 of The Souls of Lost Lake
Wren might not be attracted to her childhood pal, but she was nothing if not honest with him. “My dream sucked. I was searching for the missing girl and I found her body. On the shore of the lake by a cabin.” She tried on Eddie’s matter-of-fact approach to life. It was difficult. Especially when her dream saturated every corner of her soul, making her insides shiver and causing her to want to pinch herself to make sure she was now awake and it truly had been just a dream.
“Lost Lake?”
She widened her eyes. “Where else?”
Eddie chuckled and rubbed his chin. The scratching noise from the stubble against his callused palm drew her attention. “Nice” was all he said in contribution to the conversation.
“No word this morning about the little girl?” Wren swallowed back the urge to panic on behalf of the family of the missing girl.
Eddie palmed the counter and hoisted himself onto it, bending slightly so he didn’t knock his head against the cupboard. “Nothing.”
Wren took a sip of her coffee to still her insides. “She’s only five.” Her observation made her feel worse.
“Six.”
Not any better. Five, six, either way it was a little girl against the elements.
Eddie continued, “Jasmine’s family is from the Milwaukee area. I talked to my buddy Bruce—from the police force, remember?—and he said the Rivieras have their RV parked in one of the campsites off Highway 82. You know, the ones over by Deer Lake?”
One of the many lakes in the area, and a lake by which the Deer Lake Bible Camp owned most of the surrounding acres.
“And that’s why the police got word to us at camp?” Wren thought of Bruce, Eddie’s friend from high school who was new to the police force of the town of Tempter’s Creek, population 6,090.
Eddie drummed his fingers as they curled around the countertop by his thighs. “Yeah. They asked us for resources to help with the search. Troy has had a search party out all night helping look, but no news yet.”
Wren had meant to be with Troy, only the kitchen staff had the stomach flu rampaging through their ranks, and she’d had to stay behind to help feed the campers—120 ten- to twelve-year-olds. It was Classic Camp week number two, and they needed all the help they could get to wrangle that many kids into the dining hall and force-feed them a concoction of hamburgers, hash browns, cream of chicken soup, and some sort of cheese slathering on top. In her opinion, they needed a new kitchen manager. Someone who didn’t believe in recycling the food from the day before into weird casseroles. That would mean Eddie would be out of a job. While he was no chef, Eddie knew how to prepare food that made sense for campers and for the camp’s budget, and he ran the kitchen like a well-greased machine. The campers never complained. She shouldn’t either. But a great meal like a juicy steak ... nowthatwas another matter altogether.
She slipped off the barstool and slid the coffee mug away from her. “I should go check my phone. See if Troy texted at all.”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Do that. And, Wren?”
She paused as she moved to exit the kitchen. A glance over her shoulder at Eddie revealed a seriousness in his eyes she wasn’t used to. “What is it?”
“Don’t try to be tough. Dreams can be upsetting.”
He knew her. All too well. While they’d skirted the topic of her dream, it still swirled inside her. Real. Very real. It was all so ... well, if she believed in visions, it was more of a vision than a dream. That was why she’d flippantly avoided the depth of the conversation and instead settled for general details about the missing Jasmine Riviera. If it was a vision, then the search party would never find her. It wasn’t the first time the wilderness here had cursed a person. If it was a vision, then the search party was a futile effort, and everything pointed to the fact that little Jasmine Riviera was already dead.
4
Ava
“Get back in here!”
Ava had aspired to leave the throng and escape, but a few of the men burst from the town hall, their boots clomping on the plank sidewalk. She didn’t bother to run. She recognized them. Ned was with them—probably to help her. But Ava knew she had nowhere to run to, as Mr. Frisk’s parting shout continued to hammer through her head,“Don’t come home. Don’t come home.”
A rough hand encircled her upper arm, pinching her skin and yanking her back in the direction of the town hall.
“Easy there!” Ned argued.
Chuck Weber’s hand tightened around her arm. He was a logger—with a family—and she was sure he had visions running through his head of her sneaking into their home in the dark of night and slaughtering them all in their beds.
Ava stumbled.
Chuck jerked her upright, bruising her arm further. Ava bit back a whimper.
“I saideasy!” Ned contested.
One of the other men marching beside them shoved Ned so that he tripped off the sidewalk. Ned cursed. Chuck hauled Ava up the steps and slammed open the door to the town hall.
