Secret Hollows (29 page)

“Aye, I’ll remember,” he said. “I’ve done a bit of backpacking, so I know how to mark a trail and get back to a place.”

“I bet that’s handy in the Scottish Highlands,” Mary said.

“Well, it’s handier when you’re tracking…,” he paused, “let’s just say, unusual creatures, and need to remember where you’ve been and how you got there.”

They pulled into the front entrance of the park and took the lake road to the left. The parking lot next to the Sweet Gum Trail already had a Stephenson County Sheriff’s vehicle parked in it. Ian pulled in next to them and both he and Mary got out of the car.

“Hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Mary said, as the two men got out of the car to greet them.

“No, ma’am, we just got here,” said the first deputy. “My name’s Dave Thorne and my partner is Nate Graham. Alex Boettcher called us on Friday and asked if we’d do this.”

“Well, that was nice of you, both of you,” Mary said, shaking their hands. “I’m Mary O’Reilly and this is Ian MacDougal.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Ian said.

“We were told that you could show us the place where there might be additional evidence,” Nate said.

Ian nodded. “Aye, it’s just a short walk from here,” he said. “It’s in a tree hollow that’s grown over a wee bit. We brought a shovel, in case we needed to chip away some of the bark.”

They hiked across the muddy ground towards the lake.

“Alex didn’t tell us much about the case,” Dave said. “What are we looking for?”

“The case is actually about twenty years old,” Mary said, holding on to small trees trunks as she made her way down the slick path. “Six boys were murdered in the Lena area. Five of their bodies were buried in a shallow grave in town. The sixth body was thrown in the lake.”

“We’ve just recently found the sixth body,” Ian added, leading them to the lake. “This sixth body and the timing of his disappearance
clears
the man who was originally convicted of this crime.”

Nate whistled. “Twenty years in prison for a crime you didn’t commit,” he said. “What the hell happened?”

“A really good set-up,” Mary said.

“So, what are we trying to find today?” Dave asked.

“One of the boys who
was
found in the shallow grave was on his way to the lake on the day he was murdered,” Mary said. “The police assumed he never made it to the lake. They thought the man convicted picked him up in his car and drove him back to his home.”

“The place they found the shallow grave,” Dave inserted.

“Exactly,” Mary said. “We’ve determined that his backpack was hidden in a tree, a hiding place the boys used to use. If we can find the backpack, somewhat intact after twenty years, we can prove Timmy made it to the lake and this is where the crime occurred.”

A moment later they were at the tree. Dave used the shovel to lift some of the bark away from the hollow in the tree and Nate shone his flashlight into the hole. “Looks like we have a winner,” he said.

He pulled out a large plastic evidence bag and slipped on latex gloves. “Okay, Dave, you hold the bag and I’ll retrieve the backpack,” he said.

“Good,” Dave quipped, “
because
I sure don’t want to fight any momma squirrel over her winter bedding.”

Nate stepped back. “You think there’s a squirrel down there?”

“We’ve probably made enough noise with the shovel to make her run away,” Mary said.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nate started to insert his arm into the tree.

“Unless she feels like she’s cornered and ready to attack,” Dave said calmly.

Mary bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

“Do your squirrels carry rabies here?” Ian asked casually.

Dave grinned.
“Only the ones that hide in trees near lakes.”

Nate pulled his arm out and retrieved his flashlight. He meticulously shone it across every interior section of the tree. Then he turned to Dave. “No squirrels,” he said.

Shrugging, Dave adjusted the bag, as Nate stuck his arm back into the tree. “Well, of course not,” Dave agreed, “The hornet’s nest scared them off.”

Chuckling when Nate flinched, Dave relented. “
Naw
, those hornets are still hibernating. No worries.”

At long last, Nate retrieved the rotted remnants of the backpack. Holes had been chewed through the material, but the plastic laminated tag was still clear and legible. “Timmy Beck.”

“Guess you got yourself a good piece of evidence,” Nate said. “We’ll deliver it to Alex’s office.”

“Thanks,” Mary said. “You were both very helpful.”

“No problem,” Dave said. “So, do you know who the real killer is?”

His bedroom hadn’t really changed from since he’d graduated high school, Mike decided as he floated around the room.
Except, it was clean,
he thought with a wry smile
. Mom must dust in here twice a week.

He walked over to the shelf that held his awards. Everything from Pinewood Derby winner to fourth place in a local pie eating contest was displayed as if they were Medals of Honor. She even framed some articles from the local paper of him fighting fires.
Sometimes you don’t know how much you’re loved until your dead
, the errant thought flashed through his mind, but he shook his head.
That’s a bunch of crap; I knew mom loved me every day of my life.

The bedroom door opened and startled him. He turned to see his mom, dressed in her favorite flannel robe, coming into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Mike, a friend of yours came to see us today,” she said, and it took Mike a moment to realize she wasn’t talking to him; she was talking to his memory. “His name was…oh, something Scottish. Colin…Evan…no, it was Ian, that’s it, it was Ian. He said he met you at Boy Scout Camp, but he wasn’t the young man who had…how
did you
put it…awesome projectile capabilities.”

She smiled at the shelf. “He seemed very nice,” she said. “Although he seemed to upset your father when he mentioned that time when all of your friends were murdered. I remember how much that upset your father back then. He just wasn’t himself for the longest time. I’m sure it was because he must have imagined it could have been you. That’s what kept going through my mind.”

“Mom, do you think dad could have done it?” he asked.

She sat up, took a quick shallow breath and looked around the room. “Mike,” she whispered. “Are you here?”

Mike went over to the bed and sat down next to her. “I love you Mom,” he said, a placed a kiss on her cheek.

She slowly lifted her hand to her cheek as a tear left a single track down her face. “I love you too, Mike,” she said.

“Alice, what are you doing?” Allen asked, standing at the doorway. “Who are you talking to?”

“I’m just chatting with Mike,” she said.
“Telling him about his friend.”

“Some friend,” Allen spat. “More like a trouble maker, an instigator.”

She stood and went to him. “I still don’t understand what he did to make you so upset. If Emil didn’t kill those boys, then whoever did it should be punished.”

He stared at her for a moment and nodded his head. “You’re right, Alice,” he finally said. “It’s not his fault. I just…I just thought this was something we would never have to worry about again.”

Shaking her head, confused by his statement, she put her hand on his arm. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing you need to worry about right now. I have to go out for a while and when I get back, I’ll explain everything.”

“Allen, there’s something wrong,” she said. “Tell me.”

He moved past her into the room. “Do you really think Mike is in here with us?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, I feel him more now than I ever have.”

He walked across the room and picked up the framed photo of Mike and him winning the Pinewood Derby. “Mike,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I let you down.”

Alice came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You never let him down,” she said. “You were the best father any boy could ask for.”

Mike could see the flash of pain in his father’s eyes just before he closed them and shook his head with regret. He turned in her arms and hugged her. “I’ll be back in a little while, Alice,” he said. “And I’ll explain everything.”

He walked out of the room and Mike followed him through the house and across the driveway to the pickup. Allen hesitated for a moment before he opened the door and then he clenched his jaw and pulled the door open. Mike was already waiting inside.

Allen turned the truck on and pulled out of the drive, heading towards town. As they traveled down the familiar roads, Mike knew exactly where they were going. His dad was going to Uncle Chuck’s house. His dad was going to turn himself in.

“Are my parents really coming?” Ronny asked for the fourth time, as they stood by the edge of the lake and watched the divers get ready.

She looked down at him and smiled. “Yes, they are really going to be here,” she said. “But you have to remember, they are going to look older than you remember.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he said. “They’re
gonna
look
kinda
like my grandma and grandpa, right?”

“Well, I guess we’ll wait and see,” she said.

Ian was with the divers, about 50 yards from where Mary was standing, giving the divers precise instructions on where they could locate the body.

“So, if you can line up with that ridge on the east,” he said, pointing to the spot he’d mentioned, “and this one on the west, then your corresponding coordinates will be that large oak tree at the edge of the lake and the small creek over there.”

The lead diver nodded, fixing the coordinates in his mind.

“How far down?” he asked Ian.

“No more than twenty-five feet,” he said, and then he glanced around to be sure Ronny’s parents weren’t around. “I understand there’s a rope attached to a heavy stone used to weigh the lad down. At this point, I don’t know if there are any identifying materials left, but it would be great if you could take a look.”

“Weighed him down with a rock?” the diver asked. “What kind of sick bastard does that?”

“The kind we are going to catch,” Ian replied.

An older model brown minivan screeched to a halt alongside the road, nearly running into the ditch as they tried to quickly park.

“I’m guessing that’s the parents,” the diver said.

“I’ll go check,” Ian volunteered.

A middle-aged couple hurried out of the van and nearly slipped on the muddy ground. The man was tall, with short brown hair and his wife was blonde and petite. “Hold there,” Ian called out. “I’m coming up to you.”

Ronny looked over and his face blazed with delight. “I see them,” he said in awe. “They’re here.”

He floated away from Mary and quickly glided over the ground in order to stand next to them. Mary hurried down the road to meet them.

“I’m Professor Ian MacDougal,” Ian was saying as Mary approached. “You must be Ronny’s parents.”

“Yes, I’m Wade Goodridge and this is my wife, Elizabeth,” Ronny’s father said, shaking Ian’s hand.

“Hello, Wade and Elizabeth,” he replied, holding out his hand towards Mary and motioning her over. “This is Mary O’Reilly; she’s the private investigator who initiated the new inquiry.”

Wade enclosed her hand in both of his large ones. “Thank you so much for finding our Ronny,” he said.

Elizabeth threw her arms around Mary and hugged her. “Thank you,” she cried and she stepped back, wiping tears from her eyes. “Are you sure it’s Ronny?”

“Well, we don’t have practical evidence yet,” Ian said. “But we, both Mary and I, are sure it’s your son.”

Turning to Ian, Wade shook his head. “I’m not sure I understand. How can you be sure?”

“Perhaps Mary would be better at explaining this to you,” Ian said.

Both parents looked to Mary expectantly and she said a quick prayer for help. “It’ll be a few minutes before the divers are in position,” she said. “So why don’t we all sit at this picnic bench and I can tell you about finding Ronny.”

They followed her to the bench and sat down, Ian and Mary on one side and Wade and Elizabeth on the other. Mary leaned forward and clasped her hands together on the table top. She looked over to the corner of the table to see Ronny sitting on the same side as his parents. She winked at him and he winked back.

“In many cases, it’s easier to demonstrate something than explain it,” she said. “So, if you don’t mind, that’s what I’d like to do.”

They both nodded at her.

“I’d like you to ask me a question about Ronny, something no one else would know but you and Ronny,” she said.

“Why?” Elizabeth asked. “I don’t understand.”

“Please, just give me a chance to demonstrate,” Mary said.

“Okay, what’s Ronny’s favorite breakfast food?” she asked.

Mary turned to Ronny and then repeated what he told her, “Mickey Mouse pancakes, no butter, maple syrup and whipped cream. He prefers bacon to sausage and likes his bacon crispy.”