Page 228 of Secrets Along the Shore
She turned to look back at me. “They were hidden under a floorboard in her bedroom. I wasn’t supposed to find them. My parents said Livvie drowned because she went out on the lake alone. She took risks. Always did. I believed them until I read what she wrote. After that, I didn’t believe anything they said anymore.”
I nodded. “I think they knew. I think they approved the experiments on her. Probably why they can’t bear to be here anymore.”
Becca didn’t respond and faced forward again.
I waited until we reached the shore before saying anything else.
The moment we stepped onto land, I felt the dread settle again. The lodge loomed ahead, still and quiet. The windows glared in the sun. The memory of that body in the basement, the feeling of that boot under my hand, rushed back like a punch.
“Sheriff McNealy’s not here yet,” I said. “I don’t want to go back in until he’s here.”
“I want to see the secret room,” Becca said, walking up the porch steps, the crowbar in one hand. “You promised.”
I resolved to show her that one room only and followed a few steps behind. We didn’t speak as we entered the lodge and climbed the stairs to Scanlon’s bedroom. I moved to the far wall bookcase, removing the large book and opening the hidden door.
Becca’s mouth dropped wide. “I don’t believe it. It’s true. I mean, I’d heard…” She rushed past me to enter first.
Behind the bookcase, a soft beam of sunlight leaked through the small window, lighting our path, but it was still dark without electricity. The desk, filing cabinets, shelves upon shelves of journals, and medical documents were important, but I needed only the photograph I had seen in here, while the image of that man from my dream was still fresh in my mind.
I stepped to the shelf and paid close attention to the framed photos this time and not the yearbooks. I scanned down the shelf until I found what I was looking for. I reached for it and brushed away the dust.
The man from my dream…with Livvie. I knew I had seen him somewhere. That somewhere was right here.
I turned to Becca, my hands shaking. “He experimented on us,” I whispered, staring at the photo in my hand. “He was in my dream. Scanlon had a partner, and it was him.” I said, choking on the words while another memory surfaced. “He made me forget. He’s the one who hypnotized me. I know it now. I see it. I see him. It’s coming back to me.”
I lifted my face to Becca. She had all the file drawers opened, pulled wide, and now struggled with the locked one.
“I don’t have the key to that cabinet,” I told her.
She placed the crowbar into the handle, and with one attempt, ripped it open, pulling the middle drawer out. She tossed the crowbar behind her and lifted something from the inside of the cabinet.
A plastic syringe.
I rushed forward to see there were rows of them. Identical to the one in my dream.
“This is what he used,” I said. “This is what he injected into my ear.”
I reached for one, knowing they all needed to be tested. Perhaps there was residual evidence of the substance.
“We have to bring this to the sheriff,” I said. “Everything.”
Becca nodded slowly. Her eyes were glassy. She lifted her head and looked to the window.
“Someone’s here.”
“The sheriff. Come on.”
She pushed the drawer closed, and we left the study. Neither of us said anything until we reached the main floor, stopping at the door.
I opened carefully, expecting the man from last night to still be by my car. But it wasn’t a man. And it wasn’t Sheriff McNealy.
It was the gardener. I searched my memory for her name.
“That’s Tabitha Rooney,” I hand spelled the woman’s name while I spoke. “She said she would return to tend the plants and bushes.”
“Get rid of her. She can’t be here. It’s not safe.”
“You’re right,” I said, thinking of the dead man below. I opened thedoor about a foot. “Today’s not a good day,” I told Tabitha. It was best to send her away.
