Page 3 of Lost Lake
Now what?
Either there was still a chance or this was a nightmare he’d never escape.
The callout proved accurate, and Detective Elaina Lyons swallowed hard, her pulse stuttering as she took in the scene on the beach below. A woman’s drenched body lay face down on the sand and an empty child’s car seat rested on the dock.
Her world narrowed to one desperate thought. A child could’ve wandered off after her mother drowned, lost in the dark.
Then a darker possibility came to mind.
No one swam in Lost Lake in March.
The woman could’ve been murdered. And the child?
El tried to shut the thought down, but it was as if a neon sign flashed in front of her.
Another missing child.
Victoria’s name echoed through her from the past.
No! Focus.
Hurry. Beat the threatening rain. Evidence would vanish if the weather turned.
She pulled on gloves and crossed the nearly empty parking lot. She joined Deputy Ewing at the taped-off stairway leading to the beach. “Did you call this in immediately?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He straightened, his expression turning uncertain. “After interviewing the witness. Deputy Massey is with him now.”
“Beach secure?”
“Yes. Trails on both sides are cordoned off.”
“Keep it that way. Give the ME access. No one else without my say.” She looked back at the scene below. “Any witnesses, besides the dog walker who found the woman?”
“No one else. Beach is officially closed this time of year. Sign on the chain strung at the opening warns people off.”
A thick chain dangled between two substantial metal posts at the head of the stairway, the sign stating the beach closure from October through May. A deterrent for most people, but anyone determined to access the beach could easily circumvent it.
She faced Ewing again. “Remember, no one other than the ME and her team enters the scene unless authorized by me.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Not even Sheriff Parks?”
“That won’t be a problem. She’s standing by in her office for a report.”
He nodded.
El slipped under the tape. Hand over her eyes to block the blowing sand, she quickly assessed the scene unfolding before her on a night when the moon had taken refuge behind thick clouds still threatening to drench the evidence. One weak light mounted on the changing room wall illuminated the immediate area but left the remaining space dark and quiet.
Deputy Massey stood near an older man wrapped in an emergency blanket and seated on a concrete bench, a dog straining at the leash.
The witness.
Moonlight broke through the clouds. She’d check the victim first, document the scene, then talk to him.
She couldn’t miss a thing. Every detail mattered.
Footprints near the water. Drag marks. A phone. A half-empty water bottle. A child’s toy rocking in the ripples.
She crossed the sand. The lake reflected the moon in glints, deceptively peaceful as the water lapped against the shore. The wind carried the faint smell of algae and something sharper, metallic. Blood or mud, she couldn’t tell yet.
