“Someone from the lodge would have been more than glad to move it for you, Mr. Murphy.”
That sounded too weird. “Jack.”
“In fact—Jack—I’d be glad to take it over.”
She stuck out a hand. The light backlit Shana so she was all shape, no color.
“That’s okay. Want to check some things. I can do it.”
“Sure you can.”
Odd comment.
A taunt.
“Anything else you need help with tonight … Jack?”
“Nope. All good. Bonfire night, right?”
A pause, as if perhaps Shana too realized the absurdity of Jack going from cop to card player.
“Have fun, then. Good night.”
“You, too.”
The dark shape turned and walked away, not into the entrance hall but down a path to the side.
Jack unlocked the car and got in.
19
Dusk
Christie walked down the path leading to the lakeshore. Twilight, and Kate stood at the water’s edge, looking at the now-dark lake.
But it was her position that was interesting.
Only feet away from the lifeguard stand.
One lifeguard was still on duty with twilight bringing a gray and silvery look to the water, the yellow sand now turning dark as well.
The lifeguard, sixteen, maybe seventeen, bronzed by the summer, looked at his watch and jumped down to the sand.
Christie watched the next few moments with a mix of concern, fear, and fascination. Almost as if she was spying.
The lifeguard in a white polo shirt, collar up. Grabbing his backpack, he looked up and saw Kate.
Christie wanted to whisper,
But she watched the boy grin, a nod in Kate’s direction, and then start up from the beach.
For a moment, Christie remembered what it was like to be young.
The boy walked past Christie, who hoped she wasn’t radiating an “I’m the mom” vibe.
Her motherly spying over, she continued down to the water.
* * *
Jack got out of the Explorer. The lot sat in the dark with only two tall lights at opposite corners of the sea of cars.
Standing there, he looked at those two lights, the small milky pools each made.
Near the light to the right, he saw the narrow roadway leading up.
The service road.
Jack wondered what the rest of this operation, this camp, was like.
He looked up.
Any security cameras here?
None that he could see, but it would make sense. Didn’t every public space have security cameras?
Whatever cameras they had here—if they had any at all—were well hidden.
He slammed the door and went to the back of the SUV.
The electronic key popped open the back.
Now empty, save for blankets, a map book. A New York State Atlas. The Mid-Atlantic Region.
He pushed them aside and lifted up the covering over the storage area.
So dark here.
There was a flashlight in the glove compartment.
But then if they had security cameras here, they might also see.
A chance he’d have to take.
He went and got the light.
* * *
Christie walked over to Kate, and smiled.
“You okay?”
“Sure, Mom. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
Conversation with a thirteen-year-old could be tricky. Questions invited questions back. Questions in general—never welcome.
“Good. Nice here, hm?”
“S’okay. I like the lake.”
Kate turned back to the water.
“Me, too. We’ll get a full day down here tomorrow. Swim, use the boats. I think you’ll have fun.”
Kate nodded, neither confirming nor denying the possibility.
Christie stood there. She thought of all those years ago, before the Can Heads, when she and Jack first thought about having kids.
When she decided that she wouldn’t be a working mom, like her own mother. That she’d leave her teaching job.
She’d raise her kids.
Jack liked the idea as well.
Though there would never be a lot of money, there’d be enough.
And when the great famine started, the worldwide drought—whatever the hell it was that changed things forever—the decision made even more sense. Christie taught the kids—and life closed in.
In a world with Can Heads, being home seemed like the only sensible thing.
Kate turned to her, as if sensing that Christie had drifted.
“Where’s Simon? Dad?”
“Guess Simon’s still playing with those kids. He’ll be here soon. Your dad’s parking the car.”
Kate nodded.
Together they waited.
* * *
“Stop right there, kid.”
Simon didn’t move. The man’s voice sounded mean, the way he barked at him.
Had he done something wrong, was he in trouble?
The man came between Simon and the fence.
Simon couldn’t see much, but the man held a gun. He could see that. And he was tall … big.
Bigger than Dad, Simon thought.
“I’m sorry,” Simon said, not really knowing what he was apologizing for.
The man took another step.
“You’re not supposed to be over here. There are no trails over here. You’re supposed to stay on the trails, kid.”
Simon nodded, then realizing that his head movement wouldn’t be seen, he said, “Yes. I—”
Simon wanted to explain about the other kids, the bigger kids who got him to play here, to play hide-and-seek. That brought him here, to this man, to the fence.
