Page 63 of Murder in The Summer House

Beckett stared at the woman in wonder, knowing there was something off about how she looked.

But it was Brogan who broke the silence. “Hello there. We’ve come to find you.”

“After all this time?” Lyssa asked. “What took you so long?”

Their visitor looked disoriented and disheveled, with wet, tousled hair and rumpled clothing. She wore dirty jeans and a once-bluish blouse that had faded to a dingy gray.

“Would you like to hear my story?” Lyssa offered.

Brogan stood up, but she didn’t move toward the teenager, afraid she might disappear. “Absolutely. That’s why we’re here. We’d love to know what happened to you and Conor. Could you tell us that? What happened that night after Daniel dropped you off at your house?”

“Daniel,” Lyssa said dreamily. “He was a good guy. Sweet. But I was attracted to Conor that first day he walked into the store. Conor always made me laugh. That’s what we were doing when it happened—laughing and listening to the radio. The only station we could get at the time played oldies. Steve Winwood was singing ‘Higher Love.’ I was dancing in my seat. It was dark outside, almost midnight. The next thing I knew, Conor yelled, ‘oh, crap.’ Then I realized the car’s flying through the air like it was airborne. We were no longer on the road. I felt water all around the car. We floated for a few seconds. We were both screaming, trying to get the doors to open. But they wouldn’t budge. It was all over in a matter of minutes. We drowned that night.”

Brogan looked around the campfire. “These are the divers who will try and find you—Birk and Beckett Callahan. I promise, first thing tomorrow morning, they’ll use their equipment to locate the car and pull you and Conor out of the water. Do you know what road you were on when you went into the lake?”

“This road,” Lyssa stated, pointing to the lane behind her. “I don’t know the name of it, though. But there’s a lover’s lane, nothing more than a wideout, at the bend in the road. We used to go there—Conor and me—for some alone time. We talked about getting married. He planned to take me back to Baker City to meet his parents. That’s in Oregon.”

Brogan licked her lips. The wind and alcohol had made her throat dry as dust. But she managed to spit out two words, “I’m sorry.”

“Tell my family I want to be with Conor always. Don’t let us get separated. Okay? Please talk to them about keeping us together.”

“I’ll let them know. Anything else you want me to convey to them?”

“Conor missed the curve in the road. He wasn’t drunk. We hadn’t been drinking. It was an accident.”

“Okay. Would you like to stay with us a bit longer?”

Lyssa shook her head. “No. I can’t. I have to go now.”

They all watched her walk away and fade into the woods.

“Who says this place isn’t haunted?” Brogan whispered.

Lucien finally got out of his chair. “No more booze for me tonight.”

“It wasn’t the booze.”

“I know. It’s like Scott Phillips in Pelican Pointe. It makes you wonder how many restless souls are out there trying to get a message to the people they loved.”

18

Still shaken by the events around the campfire the night before, Brogan and Lucien made sure they were up at first light. They drank their coffee on the porch as the sun peaked over the mountaintop known as Fire Mountain.

Later, they took their plates outside and ate eggs and toast, watching the full sunrise. The sky turned golden in front of them, a hint that it might warm up to at least sixty-five degrees. The rain seemed like a distant memory.

Standing on the porch, they waved to Birk and Beckett as the pair drove by in the pickup towing two small inflatable boats and their other equipment.

“Getting an early start,” Lucien said as the truck disappeared down the lane. “They’re supposed to text when they’ve determined where the Charger might’ve left the road. They’ll follow Lyssa’s description, try to find the same curve she mentioned.”

“I’d like to be there when they do.”

“We’ll give them some time before taking out after them. How does that sound?”

“Do you really think they’ll be able to locate the car? It has been ten years. Do vehicles move once they’re in the water?”

“In a fast-moving river? Yeah. But in a lake this size, I don’t think so. However, the final destination might vary ten to twenty feet if you factor in earthquakes or tremors. That’s not a great distance, though. Those guys are experienced divers. They should be able to calculate the trajectory.”

Somehow word got out that a recovery team had shown up at the lake. Lucien began to notice an unusual amount of traffic driving past the cabin.

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