Echoes of the Past (22 page)

Chapter Eleven

Michelle awoke with a start. Light filtered into
the room through the multicolored plaid curtains. She stretched like a
contented cat. My God, she felt wonderful! For the first time in months, she’d
slept soundly. There’d been no nightmares. Even the argument she’d had with
Tony hadn’t kept her awake. Like everything else in this crazy case, it would probably
sort itself out in the light of day. She looked at the clock—just before seven.
Ron would arrive around ten. She had plenty of time to look over the crime
scene and arrange for Aaron’s car to be taken into Belleville.

The instincts she’d trusted for years convinced
her not to trust the locals with any more of the investigation than she had to.
They already had Lindsay and Aaron’s personal items, and that was all they’d
get. Some of Tony’s accusations last night bothered her. Whether she wanted to
admit it or not, the loss of all the water samples was suspicious, especially
when she knew they’d existed, not because of what Tony had said, but because of
what Aaron had told her. Ghosts didn’t lie. If Aaron said there were samples,
then where the hell were they? More importantly, who’d taken them?

She had a lot of questions for Ron, and hoped he’d
be able to provide answers, which would satisfy Tony as well. Maybe Ron didn’t
understand how dangerous those toxins were. It might just need to be a matter
of presenting the information in the right light, but corroborating evidence
was essential. Judging by the way Tony conveyed the material to her last
night,
he needed to work on his public relations skills
almost more than Colin did.

Her face flushed at the prospect of spending time today
with Ron. Being attracted to two men was a new experience. She stretched and
threw back the covers. It looked as if The Three Sisters were holding up their
end of the bargain.

“Ladies,
anything
you want, you’ve got it!
” She sang loudly into the quiet space. She jumped
out of bed, and spun around the room. It felt wonderful to feel so good, so
normal. Singing the words to Bobby McFerrin’s song,
Don’t Worry, Be Happy,
she made her bed. Someone would come in
weekly to change the linens and clean the place, but generally she’d be on her
own, and that was fine.

She grabbed the robe off the foot of her bed and
slipped her feet into the moccasins. She walked over to her open suitcase, took
out clean undergarments and her running gear. Last night, she’d unpacked what
she’d need for bed—the flannel nightshirt, her robe, and the buckskin slippers.
As quickly as she could, she emptied the suitcase, filling the dresser drawers
and hanging garments in the small closet. Her shoes and boots were still in the
car, and as soon as she was dressed, she’d bring them in along with the other
things she’d left there last night. She hated putting her feet into cold
running shoes. She folded the woven blanket and placed it at the foot of the bed.

Michelle turned toward the bathroom doorway and
wondered if her new found serenity would extend to the shower in there. Stepping
into the small room, she examined the shower stall. She might feel well-rested
and relaxed, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to take a leap of faith right
now. She’d have to after the run, and it would be soon enough. After wiping her
face with a
towelette
and brushing her hair into a
long, sleek ponytail, she reached for the hem of her white and pink flowered
flannel nightgown and pulled it over her head. She glanced in the mirror and
stopped cold. There were several small red marks on her breasts.

Not again!

Michelle stared at the marks. So much for thinking
everything was over. In the past, when she’d had an erotic dream, she’d
remembered at least parts of it. This complete blank made no sense. What could
possibly have caused the marks other than a lover’s lips and teeth?

She closed her eyes and shook her head.
Damn it! Now I have the dreams and don’t
even remember them.

She slowly opened her eyes, stared at her breasts,
and blinked. The marks were gone.

What the…
She
laughed aloud and shook her head.
I’m
imagining stuff because I can’t believe I feel so good.
The words to the James
Brown tune played through her mind as she applied her usual moisturizer, added BB
cream and lip gloss, and returned to the bedroom.

Once dressed, she opened the curtain and looked
outside. The bedroom window faced the lake. Her breath caught in her throat. A
sense of belonging filled her, banishing the empty place in her heart—a place
she hadn’t been able to fill since her parents had died. She was home. She’d
finally come home.

Mesmerized, Michelle stared at the vista before
her—it was the lake of her nightmares.
From her vantage
point, the small, almost circular body of water surrounded by trees and
marshlands looked pristine, untouched by time, which had forged ahead and left the
lake in its wake.
There were cottages, houses, wineries, and other
businesses nearby, but because of its status as a provincial park, none of the
buildings actually appeared on its shores.

There were no mowed lawns, no boathouses, no
motorboats and jet skis tied to wharfs or trees, nothing to show the world had
progressed beyond the day of its creation. She could see strips of beach, here
and there, but in most places, the trees or bulrushes stopped at the water’s
edge. She squinted and watched as a deer stepped out of the trees onto a small
beach a few yards north of the resort, and bent its delicate neck to drink. It
was a glimpse of paradise. She watched it for a few moments longer, and then
let her gaze roam around the rest of the lake. She stopped at the large marsh
area in the southwestern section of the pond. Tony said the levels of toxins were
concentrated in that area.

Since it was mid-autumn, few trees held onto leaves
still gleaming orange, red, and gold in the sunlight. This morning, the lake
was still, its slight current barely noticeable. As the sun rose higher, it
silvered the blue-green water making it resemble the surface she’d seen in the
moonlight. How was it possible for the sun and moon to have the same effect on
the water? This was the sacred lake, a fitting resting place for gods and
spirits. Gentle, almost imperceptible waves kissed the edge of the beach in
front of her. She’d come here to solve two murders and in doing so, she’d found
peace. Now, she needed to figure out which of the two men was her mate and save
the Lake of the Gods. It should be a snap.

She pulled her thoughts back to the present and focused
on the beach. Police tape wrapped around one tree and stretched across the
entire beach indicating where the bodies had been found. The tape kept people
away from what might be critical evidence. From here, it was impossible to tell
if anything had been touched, and unless she got those crime scene photos, she
might never know if it had. Debris littered the sand. She had time to go down
there now. The sooner she checked for evidence, the better.

Michelle grabbed the running jacket off the chair
and left the bedroom. She slipped her feet into shoe-boots and opened the door.
On the tiny stoop sat a metal pan, its lid in place. She opened it. Inside were
two slices of bread, two eggs, and a juice box. Smiling, she pulled out the
note, knowing whose signature would be at the bottom of it. Warmth filled her.

You have a toaster in there, and the resort
provides coffee, sugar, sweetener, and powdered coffee creamer. I thought you
might want breakfast. I’m sorry about last night. Once again, I put both feet
in my mouth. The only thing I can do is claim temporary insanity. You’re right.
I can’t prove anything, and until I do, I shouldn’t cast aspersions on anyone.
I’ve gone out with Jackson to get new samples for you. I’ll give you half to
test in Belleville, and I’ll test the other half. You can pick the containers
yourself. Let’s hope we come up with the same answers. I’ll be back for lunch.
I’ll see you then.

Tony

She picked up the pot, placed it on the kitchen
counter, and stuffed the note in her jacket pocket. She’d leave him a message thanking
him before she went running. Maybe they could meet for a drink later and
discuss the case calmly and rationally. As an apology for being pig-headed and
rude, the gesture would do, but he still had humble pie to eat over the things
he’d said. Questions needed answers, and it might be easier to get them if they
were all on the same side.

Michelle went out to the parking lot, unlocked her
car, and removed the few items she’d left on the back seat before relocking it.
Aaron’s old
Chev
sat next to Tony’s SUV. How had it
gotten back here? Maybe the techs would find fingerprints to implicate whoever
had driven the car. If it had been wiped down, that too would tell a story.

After carrying her parcels back to the cabin, she
emptied the shoe bag and lined up her shoes in the rack by the door. She
exchanged her low shoe-boots for her lined rubber boots, and grabbed a pair of
rubber gloves and a plastic evidence bag out of her medical kit. She didn’t
know what she’d find, but it was always best to be prepared. She closed and
locked her cottage door, mindful about what Tony had said about intruders and
pocketed her key. She turned on her cell phone and took pictures of the scene
as she walked toward it.

She crossed the grass to the beach intent on
finding whatever she could to help with the case. Footsteps sounded on the
gravel path. Thinking it was Tony, she smiled and looked over her shoulder, but
the older man coming toward her was a stranger. He extended his hand. Michelle
turned and reached for it.

“Morning.
You must be the
coroner from Toronto. Isaac Newcomb. I’m the handyman around here. I got a
phone call at the crack of dawn this morning from a woman named Sheila who said
you didn’t get my pictures. I don’t understand why. I gave the memory card to
that policeman, but I guess I backed them up when I went to take my personal
pictures off the camera. The gosh-darn things are on here.” He handed her a USB
drive. “You want them?”

“I most certainly do.” Michelle reached for the small,
red, plastic stick. She’d checked her email inbox twice yesterday looking for
the photos. Why wouldn’t the police have sent them?

“Thank you. I’ll download these and get the drive
back to you shortly.”

“Erase it and leave it with Kara. I don’t even
know how I made a copy of those pictures. I didn’t mean too. I told the
policeman I hadn’t. Will I get in trouble for lying to him?”

Michelle shook her head. She had no intention of
telling anyone she had the pictures.

“I wanted to keep the pictures of my new grandson.”
Isaac continued. “He’s a year old next January. It isn’t as if I’m likely to
forget what I saw that morning. I’ve got to get to work. By the way, that canoe
went missing back in August. I figured some kid took it out and left it along
the bank somewhere. I wonder how they found it—if they did.”

The man turned and walked away.

“Wait.”

Isaac stopped and looked back at her, a
questioning look on his face.

“Kara said you heard something that night.”

“Damn right. I’ve lived here my whole life. I’ve
seen things that would curl your hair, but that night I heard the lake scream
in pain. And before you ask, no, it wasn’t those kids.” He turned and walked
away, leaving Michelle gaping after him.

She stared at the USB drive and slipped it into
her pocket. What was going on here? How many others had seen or
heard things
no one believed? If the canoe had gone missing
months ago, it backed up what Aaron had said. Perhaps it had been caught in the
marsh and swept to shore along with the bodies. She stared at the lake.
Are you in pain because of the deaths or are
the toxins to blame?
Surely others had died in the lake over the years, but
where would she find that information if she needed it?
City
hall?
Maybe.

The Three Sisters didn’t answer her, not that she
expected them to, but it would be so much easier if they did. Everything she
knew and years of experience told her those bodies should have sunk. Why hadn’t
they?
Did you carry the bodies to shore
for me?
No answer, but she didn’t really expect one.
She continued down to the beach.

The canoe was much farther up the beach than the
bodies had been, almost as if someone had pulled it up out of the water. In
fact, there was a staged look about the whole scene. It took only seconds for
her to realize any evidence here had been compromised during the recovery of
the bodies. The beach was covered in footprints, made by the police officers,
doctor, and paramedics. There were smaller footprints, no doubt belonging to
women—the girlfriend and the clerk? As she scanned the shore, it was what was
missing which concerned her most—no shoe, no paddles, no lifejackets. She used
her cellphone and snapped several pictures of the area, especially the section
where the bodies would have lain. She’d compare her pictures to Isaac’s.

She walked over to the canoe and noted the lack of
water in it. A canoe, lying at that angle should have rainwater in it at least.
She walked toward the bow. There, the canoe had hit something. That crack would
cause the small craft to sink in time. Now, it had allowed the water to drain.
It was doubtful they’d been in that canoe. Was someone messing with the
evidence? Things weren’t adding up.

She raised her cell phone and dialed the
Provincial Coroner’s Office lab in Toronto. It was early, barely after eight,
but the lab was staffed twenty-four seven. Normally, she let the local
authorities handle any forensic evidence she might find, but this time, she was
reluctant to do so. She put the phone on speaker so she could continue to
investigate while she spoke.