Snapper (11 page)

*

When practice was over, JJ lingered in the showers until he thought everyone else was gone. He was in no hurry to leave. It was going to be a long bike ride home without Ian at his side, pushing him to go faster.

JJ was sitting on a bench in the deserted locker room, bent over his sneakers, tying his laces when the toe of a sneaker entered his field of vision. He looked up.

“Here,” said Bobby Savarese, thrusting a wooden box at JJ. “This is for you.”

JJ looked at the box.

“Open it,” said Savarese.

JJ fingered aside the small metal clasp that held the lid shut. Inside was the shell of the snapper JJ had killed at Ted Tanner’s Pet and Turtle Shop. Now it was shiny and hardened with a baked enamel finish.

Savarese reached down and knocked on the shell with his knuckles.

“Come with me,” he said.

JJ finished tying his sneaker and followed Savarese out to the parking lot. Savarese’s souped-up red Chevy was the only car still there.

“Give me the cup,” he said.

JJ reached into the box and removed the enameled shell. For a moment JJ thought back to the turtle soup he had eaten the night of the freshman team dinner. JJ didn’t like snappers, but what had this one ever done to him to deserve what he had done to it?

Savarese took the cup from JJ. He walked to the back of his car, crouched down, and chocked the shell beneath the tire of his rear wheel.

“Watch this,” he said to JJ, climbing into the front seat.

Savarese gunned the engine. Four hundred plus horsepower roared. Then he shifted the car into reverse and rolled back three feet. He looked out the driver’s side window at JJ.

“Check it out,” he ordered.

JJ bent down and picked up the snapper’s shell. A three-thousand pound Chevy had rolled right over it and it wasn’t even cracked.

“It’ll do,” said Savarese.

“I guess it will,” said JJ.

“Wanna ride home?” Savarese asked him.

“No thanks,” said JJ. “I’ve got my bike.”

Chapter 16

TURTLEBACK LAKE JUNE 2006

“Dad!”

JJ had come home earlier than usual that afternoon. He didn’t know whether his father was home, so he called for him as he came through the front door. When there was no answer, JJ went out onto the deck. Maybe his dad would be there. But he wasn’t. It was a little strange, because his father’s car was parked in the driveway out front.

JJ leaned against the railing. It was a beautiful June day. The sun was high, hot and yellow and puffy white clouds dotted the cerulean sky.

JJ looked across the water. Something in the distance caught his eye. There were two people on a floating dock over near the far shore.

JJ’s father had left a pair of binoculars out on the railing. JJ reached over and raised them to his eyes. He hardly could believe what he saw when he focused on the two figures on the dock. It was his father -– with his arms around a woman in a black bathing suit.

JJ put the binoculars back down on the railing. He felt like a kid who’d just walked in on his parents at the wrong time. It was awkward.

But even with binoculars, JJ would’ve missed what happened next between his father and the woman on the dock.

They were having a conversation.

“So,” said Deena. “You said you wanted to tell me something earlier. What was it?”

“I know about an opening here in town,” said Judd.

“What do you mean – an opening?” asked Deena.

“The high school principal just retired,” said Judd. “An unexpected health problem. The town needs to fill the spot before September.”

“And?” said Deena, looking at Judd closely.

“Well,” said Judd. “It’s just that the other day you said what you really wanted was to become a principal. Maybe this could be your chance.”

Judd paused. This was the big plan he had swum across the lake to deliver.

“I know a lot of people here in town,” he said. “People on the school board, on the town council. I think I could give you a real leg up.”

“A leg up,” said Deena. “I like the sound of that.”

Then she lifted up her right leg, swung it over Judd and rolled on top of him.

Chapter 17

TURTLEBACK LAKE 1928

For several weeks, Isaac and his dad did no work on the cabin. All they worked on was the trap.

As it began to take shape, Isaac saw it was more than just a trap – it was a kind of cage made of laths woven into a tight mesh of two-inch squares. Owen and Isaac wrapped wire around each and every lath and joint.

“What’s the wire for, Dad?” asked Isaac.

“Reinforcement,” said Owen. “That snapper would chew right through wood. In fact, I think we should triple wrap the whole thing, okay Isaac?”

“Whatever you say,” said Isaac.

When the cage was finally finished, it was six feet across the front, eight feet front to back and five feet high. On one side was a trap door that slid up and down in a greased, lubricated track. The trap door was held open by a catch that was triggered by a lever inside the cage. On the bottom, four six-foot lengths of steel cable were attached, one to each corner. At the end of each cable was a sack made of steel mesh.

On top of the cage, about a foot from the rear, was a small square opening.

“What’s the hole for?” asked Isaac.

“To drop in the bait,” said his Dad.

After they completed the trap, Isaac and his Dad set to work building a large wooded platform to go on top of it. A square was cut out to align with the bait hole.

One night as they sat around their kitchen table in Paterson, Wilhelmina asked for a progress report.

“So when is this cabin going to be finished?”

Wilhelmina was getting impatient. How many more weekends was she expected to spend alone in Paterson?

“It’s coming along nicely,” said Owen. “Wouldn’t you say, Isaac?”

Isaac looked down at his plate.

“Well, Isaac,” said his mother. “Is it – or is it not – coming along nicely?”

“It’s coming along, mom,” said Isaac. “But Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

Isaac often used the same clichés his parents used when they were talking to him.

“Who’s talking about Rome?” said Wilhelmina. “I’m not talking about the Coliseum, Isaac, I’m talking about a little cabin in the woods.”

“Don’t pester the boy,” Owen said to his wife. “You’ll be seeing that cabin soon enough. It’ll be worth the wait.”

Wilhelmina shook her head. Why was it so difficult to get information from these two?

*

The sun had gone down but the surface of the lake was still shimmering with light. A huge white moon was rising in the east. It looked low enough to reach out and touch.

But Owen Andersen knew the moon would not stay so big or so low for long. Like a helium balloon, it would soon float high into the sky, still round and white, but reduced to the size of a quarter. Still, the bright, moonlit night was perfect for their purpose.

As the moon rose, it seemed to be looking down, squinting its eyes to see what the boy and man were doing. The moon had never seen such a strange and cumbersome craft plying the waters of Turtleback Lake at night.

In the distance, Turtleback Rock glowed a ghostly white. To Owen Andersen, the rock looked like the crown of a great giant’s skull. He imagined the rest of its enormous white skeleton standing upright underwater, reaching all the way down to the bottom of the fathomless lake. As Owen and Isaac struggled to row their awkward craft, the distant rock grew slowly closer. Then, about a half-mile from shore, something suddenly occurred to Isaac.

Isaac glanced desperately around the platform. All he saw were four wire-mesh bags, each one full of boulders, attached to steel cables.

“Dad!” he cried. “We’ve got to go back!”

“What are you talking about, Isaac,” said Owen. “Why?”

“We’ve forgotten the bait!” said Isaac.

Owen chuckled.

It was strange, but during all the time that Owen and Isaac had spent building the trap, during all their car rides back and forth, Owen had never once mentioned what they were going to use for bait. Isaac had imagined many possibilities: a rabbit, perhaps, or maybe a large chunk of meat. But for some reason, in the end, Isaac had ultimately decided that his father would use a lamb’s head purchased from their butcher in Paterson.

But now, looking around the deck of their moonlit raft, Isaac saw nothing: no meat, no rabbit, no lamb’s head.

“Don’t worry, Isaac,” said Owen. “I’ve got the bait.”

“Where?” said Isaac. “I don’t see anything.”

For a moment, Owen let go of the oar he’d been rowing with the one hand he had left.

“It’s right here,” he said, patting himself on the leg.

Chapter 18

TURTLEBACK LAKE OCTOBER 2006

The real estate market in Turtleback Lake was dead and the reason was no longer a matter for debate. And the cause of the problem was only getting worse.

First, there’d been the increased number of “little nips” during the summer. Then came Joanne Sully’s toe. Then came Ian Copeland’s right foot. Even Judd would agree that changing the name of the high school football team would do little to improve things now.

Judd felt helpless. There was nothing he could do for his clients. Former prospects openly scoffed when he tried to lure them back with drastically reduced prices. One woman, appalled by what she perceived as Judd’s gross insensitivity, practically bit his head off.

“Please don’t talk to me about lower prices!” she snapped, “when the real price could be an arm and a leg – either mine or my children’s. Please – do not call again!”

The woman slammed down the receiver. Judd was getting used to it.

In the scheme of things, Judd knew his problem was relatively minor. So he’d lose some commissions. So his income would be down this year. At the same time, he wasn’t in a physical therapy facility learning to walk with a prosthetic limb, like Ian Copeland. And he wasn’t being hounded day and night – like Chief Rudolph – by townspeople who were demanding he “get that snapper.” Even Coach Lupo had a new set of problems to contend with. Without Ian Copeland’s right leg booting field goals and extra points, The Snappers had narrowly eked out victories the last two weeks.

And then there was JJ.

How could JJ not be scarred by what had happened to him and Ian that night? Of the two boys, he’d gotten off easier, but still – what a nightmare to live through. And then there was the guilt. It had been JJ’s idea to go swimming that night. Ian had said he didn’t want to. JJ could still hear Ian’s voice in his head: “It’s late and I’ve got a ton of homework.” Yet JJ had urged him. “C’mon,” he’d said. “Just a quick dip!”

You could say all you want, but there it was – the bottom line. If it hadn’t been for JJ, Ian would still have two feet.

“And if it hadn’t been for you,” said Judd, “Ian would’ve bled to death that night. You dragged him back onto the dock. You called 9-1-1. You saved his life.”

But it was hard for JJ to see things that way. And at some level, Judd understood.

The situation in Turtleback Lake was bleak and only one thing was going to improve it: whatever was lurking in Turtleback Lake had to be found, captured, and killed.

When Judd walked into Bonds’ he saw Chief Rudolph having coffee at the counter.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“It’s a free country,” said Chief Rudolph.

Judd sat down on a stool and ordered a cup of coffee.

“Look,” said Chief Rudolph, as if they were already in the middle of a conversation. “It’s not as if snapping turtles haven’t always been in the lake. For god’s sake, Judd, there are snappers in every lake up here.”

Chief Rudolph emptied his cup with a quick gulp so the waitress could refill it.

“Think about the Jersey shore, Judd. Millions of people go there. You think there aren’t sharks swimming in those waters? You think rip tides don’t sweep people out to sea? You think people don’t break their necks in the surf? For chrissakes, Judd, a few snapping turtles is nothing in comparison!”

“Nothing till now,” said Judd. “A little nip is one thing. A foot is another. Whatever’s in our lake has got to be one
helluva
whopper.”

“Well, it didn’t get to be a whopper overnight,” said Chief Rudolph. “It’s had to have been out there for God only knows how long. Who can even begin to guess how long this thing’s been around?”

“I can,” said a voice from behind them.

Chief Rudolph and Judd swiveled around. A tall slender man in tortoise shell glasses was standing behind them. Apparently he had slipped into Bonds’ during their conversation. For the past minute, he’d been eavesdropping.

“Jesus Christ, Andersen!” said Chief Rudolph. “You practically gave me a heart attack sneaking up behind us like that.”

“Sorry,” said August.

“Forget about sorry,” said Chief Rudolph. “Just tell me what you meant by ‘I can.’”