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The sharp ridges and steep drop-offs of the mountains were home to both his past mistakes and his salvation. As a teen, he’d encountered dangers on the trail and managed to survive on his own instincts. Eventually he’d joined Search and Rescue for FEMA. It was the one good thing he’d done in his life.
Weeds and briars had overtaken the land here in the ravine where he’d buried his secrets.
Dead wildflowers, branches and brittle leaves lay in layers from the years that had passed. Trees had been ripped from the ground during last year’s tornado and rattlesnakes had infested the area, keeping everyone away. Their hiss punctuated the air as they coiled to strike.
The hot air barely stirred around him, mosquitos buzzing around his face, memories circling his mind in a blinding fog. His lungs strained for air, the stench of death and rotten moss hanging heavy.
His SAR dog, Benji, rubbed up against his leg and Cord patted his back. “Thanks for coming with me, boy. I know I can always depend on you.”
Benji looked up at him with trusting eyes, ears perked as if he sensed something was wrong.
Cord’s phone buzzed. Ellie.
His gut tightened. Ever since he’d parted ways with Lola Parks a few weeks ago, he’d dived into work and practically avoided Ellie. He knew she’d ask questions, questions he didn’t know how to answer. Another reason he’d come back here: to remind himself why a flawed man like him had no business wanting her.
But she could be calling about work. Ellie and Special Agent Derrick Fox had asked him to join the task force they’d formed to investigate crimes in the area. He braced himself and answered.
“Cord, I just got a call,” said Ellie. “Little girl is missing at Widow Lake. I’m on my way there now.”
Cord stood, pulse hammering. “Do you know the location?”
“Striped Bass Cove,” Ellie said.
“I’m not far from the lake now. I’ll get over there and help coordinate search efforts.”
He said goodbye to his past for now, then jogged up the hill and through the woods. His mind ticked off possible dire scenarios. Not only was Widow Lake supposedly haunted, but it sat at the edge of the Appalachian Trail. Miles and miles of untamed forest, wild animals, uneven grounds, drop offs and woods created their own set of dangers. Worse, every year there were drownings and accidents on the lake which became overpopulated with boaters and partiers.
He hoped this child wouldn’t be one of them.
SEVEN
WIDOW LAKE
As soon as her daddy went to his truck, Lorna Bea climbed through the window onto the tree outside her bedroom window.
“Stay in here while I go to the store,” he’d ordered. “Do you understand me?”
She’d nodded, biting her tongue to keep from arguing. Why bring her to this beautiful place and lock her in the house?
Downstairs, Nana sat in the rocker working her knitting needles, humming some gospel song about gathering at the river.
According to Nana, who’d lived with her and her father as long as she remembered, ghosts roamed the lake. A bridge called the Lady in Blue Bridge had been named after a widow who threw herself off it out of grief. “They say you can see her ghost on a foggy night rising from the water and walking the bridge,” Nana said.
Lorna Bea rubbed her hands together excitedly. She wanted to know more about the ghosts, wanted to see one for herself.
“Don’t feed her imagination with gossip of ghosts,” her father had snapped at Nana. “She makes up enough silly stories in that notebook of hers.”
Lorna Bea’s cheeks burned. One day she’d show him. She’d write stories that would be published. Then who would be laughing?
On the way here, she’d studied the scenery and jotted down names of the country roads and towns. From the window now she had the perfect view of the Appalachian Mountains. Her heart thudded at the sight of the jagged ridges rising like stacked stones in front of her. Gray clouds reached for the peaks, the two almost touching. The fading sunlight shimmered off the surface of the water, which was so still the silence was eerie. A pungent odor wafted in the air, one that held the scent of evil.
She searched the horizon for the bridge Nana talked about. Shadows from the pines and aspens darkened the bank.
Suddenly she thought she saw movement. It was a man, she was sure of it.
Tall. Creepy-looking. He wore a black hoodie. Black pants.
And a mask.
