“Yet he’s the psycho.”
“Absolutely. Night, League.”
“Night Roan.”
Sonny sat tensely in the passenger seat as they headed out of town. “I don’t like this.”
“You were raised in South San Francisco; you should be used to it.”
“Nah man, we hadfogand city lights. Not this shit that creeps like lost souls.”
“You’re a seal.”
“I’m Maori brother, I don’t give a damn about any of that.”
“Make sure you don’t let St. James talk you into going in the lake. He’s got a strange sense of humor.”
“Copy that,” Sonny said, clenching as Santiago turned a curve. “Hey League, brother, slow down on the turns. I know you want to get to Ms. Cakes, but let’s get us there in one piece, eh?”
Sonny was right. Rushing up Old Lotty Road at night could end his plans with Lauren, and their lives. It was ironic how a crash brought Lauren into his life, and with the discovery of corruption, the drugs, the murdered and missing people, the jail break…Shrouded Lake had been crashing out since.
“Hopefully things’ll get better now,” he said, mostly to himself. Unease slithered through his gut.
He slowed his cruiser down as he passed the location of Veronica Archer’s crash.
“Something wrong, League?” Sonny asked. His hand reached for his gun as he looked out the passenger window.
“It all seems to start with Lauren coming to Shrouded Lake,” he said, contemplating. “Her presence here set off a chain of events; and things continue to escalate. I’m missing something, Sonny. I know I told Roan that I’d let it go for the night, but this nagging feeling won’t go away.”
His phone rang as he turned onto the road leading to his house. Santiago answered immediately, believing it was Lauren.
“Hey Sheriff, this is Beatrice.” She was working dispatch tonight. “We got an anonymous call here saying that Andy’s truck was spotted on the outskirts near Wild Ridge Bar.”
“Is Roan still there?”
“Just left.”
“Radio her and have her check it out on her way home. Tell her I’ll owe her.” Lately Roan’s days had been as long as his.
“Ten-four.”
Santiago pulled up to the front of his house and knew, just by looking at it, that Lauren wasn’t here. He walked toward the lake, Sonny silent at his side.
“Mist is freaking me out,” Sonny restated as they drew closer to the water.
The mist wasn’t as thick as it could get, but itwasmoving strange. Drifting unnaturally toward the Moor house. He moved in that direction with it. Sonny continued to walk alongside him instead of heading over to?—
There was movement at the side of Lauren’s house, a man climbing through the laundry room window.
“That looked like St. James,” Sonny muttered.
Lake water rolled over Santi’s booted feet, and like tumblers clicking into place, the evidence, the hypotheticals and ruminations coalesced, creating a narrative that felt plausible. Right.
The mist seemed to congregate between Lauren’s back porch and the water’s edge as if holding vigil.
Santiago ran. Tossing Sonny Lauren’s keys, he motioned for Sonny to go around to the front of the house and to hold there.
On the back porch he slipped his phone back into his pant pocket after pressing record, then banged on the back door. “Hey woman, you decent?” he called out before turning the door handle. It was locked.
