She wanted to argue, but his expression told her it would be pointless. “I don’t like being kept in the dark. But I respect that you have your reasons. How long do you expect us to have to be holed up, as you called it? I want to go back so I can continue investigating my brother’s death.”
“I’d rather you didn’t. Leave the investigation of your brother’s death to me. A good start would be to tell me why you don’t believe he drowned and think that foul play was involved.”
She shrugged. “It’s more of a feeling than any facts I’ve discovered. Esteban is strong, a really good swimmer. I can’t imagine him falling overboard and not coming back up. He was also with friends. Why wouldn’t they have jumped into the water to help him? I’m also surprised he even came here. I’d never heard of Mystic Lake before he…before he died and I don’t know where he heard of it. I guess the final straw for me is that we buried bones, not a body. Never seeing him makes it, I don’t know, hard to accept. I just want to be certain what happened. And I’m not even sure how to go about that.”
“Witnesses are the key. Did you know the friends he was with at the time of his accident?”
She shook her head. “No, which is another reason I’m suspicious. I spoke to the owner of the marina in Mystic Lake, where the boat was rented. He’s the one who described the friends but none of the names he gave me from his records are names I’ve heard of before. And when I searched for them on the internet, the names were all so common that thousands of hits came up. That was a dead end. Your turn. Why would the police, you, be so quick to rule it an accidental drowning?”
“I wouldn’t say it was quick. We investigated for several weeks. My officers interviewed those friends of your brothers and their stories all matched, no red flags. Of course, my officers had no reason to doubt anyone’s identities and dig deeper. That’s something I’ll look into as I re-investigate. I’d only just begun reviewing the case file before the Jericho lawsuit put that on hold. As for your brother being an excellent swimmer, that rarely matters in our lake. There have been many strong swimmers who go under and never resurface. Mystic Lake—the lake not the town—is the second-most deadly lake in the country, right behind Lake Lanier in Georgia, for the same reason. Both lakes were formed when water submerged an existing town. There are all kinds of hidden dangers beneath the water that can snag a swimmer’s clothing or hair.”
She frowned. “I hadn’t heard that. I don’t understand.”
He glanced at her, clearly surprised. “I would have expected you’d have researched the town before coming here.”
“I researched people, as best I could. Not the history of the town itself.”
“Fair enough. This area used to be all mountains and valleys, no lake. A long time ago, before the current town ever existed, there was another town, an unincorporated community really, without an official name. At least, not that anyone remembersor has found in any documentation. The story is that a series of storms converged in the area and diverted a river down a mountain into the main valley. The town that was here flooded with no warning. A lot of people died. Homes, entire buildings and full-size trees were buried too. The river formed what we now call Mystic Lake, and the new town built up around it.”
He glanced at her before continuing his story. “The lake is incredibly deep in parts, and there’s no way all of those hazards can ever be removed. We do cleanups when we can. Remove debris whenever possible. Warnings are posted in particularly hazardous areas. And we mark the channel where boaters should stay.”
His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Mystic Lake is enormous, stretching for miles because that river, even though it’s small, still flows down the mountains to feed it. The locals respect the lake and its history, understanding the hazards. They’re careful, for the most part.” He grimaced. “But even they do foolish things sometimes. The mayor’s own son died in the lake years ago, in a boating accident outside the marked channel. He was only in his twenties.”
“How sad. Far too young to have his life cut short.”
“Agreed. The dangers become more exacerbated in the summer months, when the tourists flock to town, as you’ve no doubt noticed. Many ignore the warnings, go where they want. And pay a high price. Every year lives are lost, either in drownings or boating accidents. But no matter how hard we try to keep people safe, it happens over and over. Some years the deaths number in the double digits.”
She stared at him in horror. “Double digits?”
“Unfortunately.”
“How long have you been here?”
“My whole life. I was born here.”
“And you’re how old?”
The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Isn’t it rude to ask someone their age?”
“Only if you’re a woman. And you most definitely are not. How old are you?”
He laughed. “Older than you, but not by much.”
“And how would you know my age?”
“One, I’m a police officer. Two, seriously? You’re Sierra Covington. Everything about you is online, in addition to police files I have access to. Have you ever tried putting your name into a search engine to see what comes up? If you think you have any true secrets in the world of the internet, especially as a well-known public figure, you’re kidding yourself.”
She crossed her arms, hating that he was likely right. As much as she tried to keep a low profile, far too much about her had been put out in cyber space simply because of who her father was.
“Valid points,” she conceded, “everything you’ve said. But I won’t accept that Esteban’s death was an accidental drowning unless I can confirm it somehow. Not that I was doing well in that department before I decided to reach out to you. I had the technology, the fancy equipment, but no investigative know-how. You agreed to work with me. Now you’re saying you don’t want me involved.”
“It’s not that I don’t want your input. I just don’t want you out and about, putting yourself in danger. Leave that to me. The investigation has to be on my terms. We return to Mystic Lake if, or when, I deem it safe. And there are some ground rules you’ll have to agree to as well.”
“Ground rules? Like what?”
“Non-negotiable ground rules. Rule number one. Never, ever, point a gun at one of my officers again. At any officer. Understood?”
She scoffed. “I wouldn’t have actually shot him.”
