Secrets at Spawning Run Page 8

  The deputies looked at each other. “Where ‘bouts was the body?” asked Sergeant Johnson.

  “About a hundred feet to the left of my boathouse and dock. Nestled against the shore.”

  “We’ll go check it out,” said Conner. “You try to relax. Come on, Johnson. Let’s find us a body.”

  “Did you hear him? ‘Try to relax,’ he said. Is he kidding?” Aurora said to Carole after the deputies left the house. Still queasy, she dialed Sam again. No answer. She sat back down and sipped more of the tea. “Thanks again for the tea, Carole. And for being here.”

  “You’re welcome. Ready for a second cup?”

  “Not yet, maybe in a few minutes.” She set the cup down on the coffee table and walked to a window that overlooked the waterfront. “How can the lake be so clear and calm when there’s a dead man floating in it, Carole? I feel like this isn’t real, like I’m watching a horror movie. And what’s taking the deputies so long?”

  Carole joined her friend at the window and took her by the arm. “Come sit back down, Aurora, and tell me about the dog you found. Luke told me a little about him. A Jack Russell terrier, I think he said.”

  Aurora sat on the sofa beside her friend. “Yes, a Jack Russell terrier. I call him Little Guy.”

  “That’s a cute name. Tell me about him.”

  “You’re trying to distract me, Carole. It won’t work. I’m going outside to find the deputies.” Aurora stood up and headed to the door.

  “No need, Aurora. They’re coming now.”

  “About time,” Aurora said when Conner and Johnson entered the house.

  “We looked thoroughly, Ms. Harris. Searched the bank and under the dock. Saw your overturned canoe, an orange life jacket, and lots of trash floating, but no body. Nothing’s there, ma’am,” Lieutenant Conner announced. “Maybe you saw a large fish or snapping turtle or garbage or something. With all the rain we’ve had this spring, there’s lots of debris in the lake, some big logs, too.”

  “Lieutenant Conner, I saw it. I felt it. I smelled it. It was grotesque. I fell on top of it. It was horrible. And the smell—oh Lord, the smell.”

  “Ma’am, there ain’t no body under the dock, in the boathouse, or near the shore. There’s no dead man in the water,” Johnson said.

  “If you see it again, give us a shout,” said Conner. The officers turned to leave.

  “Wait, there’s something we haven’t discussed yet.”

  Lieutenant Conner turned to Aurora and asked politely, “And what would that be, ma’am?”

  “A big speedboat nearly rammed our smaller boat this morning. Luke Stancill reported it. It was almost daylight, although still dark enough for a boat to have its running lights on. But that speedboat wasn’t using running lights. Our lights were on, though, so they had to see us. Their wake nearly swamped us, and King here fell into the lake. Not only that, but the two guys on board looked straight at us.”

  Conner and Johnson looked at each other, then Conner said, “We didn’t receive a report. Maybe he notified the game warden.” He pulled out a cell phone, called the game warden, and hung up after a brief conversation. “They didn’t receive a report about a boat attack. Ma’am, how do you know the folks in the boat looked straight at you?”

  “I’ve got it on videotape,” Aurora announced, then explained why she was on the lake with a video camera so early in the morning.

  “Guess we need to have a look at the videotape,” Conner said.

  Aurora readied the VCR. “Understand that I haven’t edited this yet. The final version will be much better, but I guess you don’t care about that.”

  “Okay if I watch, too?” asked Carole.

  Aurora nodded. Carole joined Aurora on the loveseat.

  The deputies sat on the sofa and watched as the tape rolled. Practice shots filled the screen as Aurora and Luke checked the video camera’s settings. Luke’s shouted warning was clearly audible when a speeding boat popped out of the faint shafts of early morning light and headed straight toward Luke’s boat.

  “You’re lucky, ma’am. That looked deliberate to me, too.” Conner’s earlier impression of Aurora changed for one of respect. Had she been right about a dead person, too? He made a mental note to further investigate the missing body. “I’ll take the tape to headquarters for Sheriff Rogers to see, ma’am. You’ll get it back in a few days.”

  “Lieutenant, besides the boat attack, that tape also has excellent footage of the sunrise for the promo I’m producing, and I need it. I’m on a tight time schedule.”

  “Tell you what, ma’am. We’ll just make a copy for you, and I’ll run it back over here tomorrow morning,” said Sergeant Johnson. “At the office, we can enlarge the shot of the guys in the boat. That’ll assist us in identifying them.

  “By the way, Ms. Harris, I almost forgot to ask. Have you ever seen this car in your neighborhood?” He pulled a rumpled photograph out of his shirt pocket.

  Aurora studied the picture he thrust at her. “No, I can’t remember seeing a car like that around here, but I didn’t arrive until Thursday. How about you, Carole?”

  “Nope, ‘fraid not. What kind is it?” Carole asked as she handed the picture back to Sergeant Johnson.

  “It’s a BMW, ma’am. Bird watchers discovered it less than a mile from here, so I thought maybe y’all had seen it, what with the body Ms. Harris said she saw, and all. Guess we’ll check with your neighbors while we’re here.”

  “You probably won’t have any luck. The house on the left is a rental. The one on the right is owned by a man in D.C., only comes a few times a year. I think he drives an S.U.V. Green one, I believe. Those homes closer to the main road are used only in the summer.”

  “Do you happen to have their names?”

  “I do, at least my folks did. And I can give you their addresses and telephone numbers, too, if you’d like.”

  “We’d appreciate it.”

  While Aurora flipped through the address file box, she said, “Since I’ve been here, boats have entered my boathouse twice at night. Doesn’t that sound suspicious to you?”

  “Maybe a little. But then this is prime fishin’ time at Smith Mountain Lake. Striper fishin’ is pretty good in this part of the lake. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”

  “But….”

  Johnson finished copying the information from the index cards and handed the originals back to Aurora.

  “Thanks, Ms. Harris,” he said as he and Conner walked out the door.

  “It’s Mrs.,” Aurora called after him.

  “Pity,” said Conner to Johnson as they walked to their cars.

  “Carole, they don’t believe I found a body.” She looked at her friend. “You believe me, don’t you?”

  “I think you believe you saw a body. But like the cops said, there’s lots of debris in the water this spring. Conner and Johnson said there was trash floating near the canoe. And I’ve even heard of animal carcasses washing into the lake occasionally. Maybe that’s what you saw.”

  Aurora stared at Carole. “I saw a body. I fell on top of it. And the trash is junk I picked up while I was canoeing, before I capsized and landed on the body.”

  “But, Aurora, where is the body now? How could it have disappeared so fast?”

  “I don’t know where the body is now. But I do know that a dead person was floating near my dock.”

  I want Sam. I need to talk to Sam. He’d believe me, Aurora thought.

  “Let’s go to Homestead Creamery for an ice cream cone,” Carole said, changing the subject. “You need to get away from here for a while. The three of us will go—you, me, and King. My treat.”

  “You’re probably right. I could use a change of scenery. But King’s not quite dry.”

  Carole reached over and touched the damp dog. “That’s okay. He’s dry enough.”

  “Well, if you’re sure. But let me try Sam one more time first.”

  Two minutes later, Aurora came back in the living room. “He st
ill doesn’t answer. I’ll try again when we get back.” She called King and the three walked out the door.

  “Susie-Q” by Dale Hawkins had been playing in Sam’s mind all day. Anything could set a song off in his head—a name, a word, a picture—and there the song would reside until another came along. Car windows down and sunroof open, Sam sang as the red Mitsubishi Eclipse sped up Interstate 20, then 77 to Charlotte. He smiled. If Aurora were with him, she would chime in with her slightly off-key voice that he adored. In three more hours he’d see his Susie-Q, the nickname he gave to Aurora Sue Anderson on their first date.

  Sam stopped in Greensboro for gas and a down-home North Carolina pork barbecue sandwich with coleslaw on a sesame seed bun. Harold Johns had made Sam’s day when he’d called early that morning to say he wouldn’t be going to Augusta after all. Something had come up. Now Sam wouldn’t have to meet Harold and Melinda for dinner Saturday night. He checked his calendar. He could reschedule a few appointments, take some work with him, and enjoy an extra-long weekend. He hadn’t seen Aurora for over three weeks, and he longed to hold her in his arms. By 10:00 he’d wrapped up a couple of loose ends, packed his bag and briefcase, and was on the road. He’d tried to call Aurora, but didn’t get an answer. Rather than leave a message on her machine, he decided to surprise her this afternoon. Maybe he’d take her out to dinner, or perhaps a romantic tête-à-tête at the lake house. He’d cross over that mountain when he reached it.

  Smith Mountain loomed on the horizon as Sam sang the song “Over the Mountain, Across the Sea …” Soon he’d see his girl, his Aurora, his Susie-Q.

  “King, want to go for a ride in the car?” Aurora asked. King barked and ran to Aurora’s Jeep.

  “Not that car, King,” Carole said, laughing. “Today you ride in an older vehicle.” She opened the back door and he jumped in. He leaned over the front seat between Carole and Aurora.

  “If you put the back windows down about ten inches, he won’t hang over your shoulder,” Aurora said. “He’ll be too busy sniffing the scents outside.”

  Carole laughed and lowered the windows.

  Hidden by a weeping willow’s overhanging branches, a speedboat nestled against the shore. With binoculars trained on the house, a man watched Carole drive off with Aurora and King.

  “Let’s go,” he said to his three cronies. They scrambled from the boat, ran up the hill, and pushed through the thin stand of pines, oaks and maples to the house.

  “I’ve got a key. Remember, all we’re looking for is the necklace and the pictures the old man took. Understand?”

  The woman and two men nodded.

  Sam turned onto Spawning Run Road. Six hours and twelve minutes. Not bad. Stopping for the barbecue sandwich in Greensboro hadn’t cost him much time. He smiled. Aurora would be thrilled that he’d brought a small cooler from Augusta for the sole purpose of bringing his Susie-Q some barbecue or, as he called it, North Carolina Gold. What they didn’t eat over the weekend, she could freeze.

  Sam pulled into the driveway. Good, Aurora’s Jeep was in the carport. He rang the doorbell, unlocked the utility room door, and called for Aurora. He wanted to surprise her, not scare her out of her wits.

  “Susie-Q, it’s me,” he called as he walked into the kitchen. As he rounded the corner to the living room, a blow to his chest slammed him backward. Sam collapsed in a heap, his head whacking hard against the floor. Before he passed out, he glimpsed feet with bright red toenails in blue leather sandals.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here!” a voice yelled.

  “Sam’s here!” Aurora shrieked, and she jumped out of Carole’s car before it came to a complete stop. King bounded to the red car, sniffed, then, nose to the ground, dashed ahead of Aurora and Carole to the utility room door. Earlier, the two women had laughed over King’s introduction to a vanilla ice cream cone, and Aurora could hardly wait to see Sam’s reaction when she described it. And his strong, warm arms around her again would feel so good. She hoped Carole wouldn’t prolong her visit.

  “Sam, honey, I’m home! Where are you?” Turning the corner, Aurora nearly tripped over Sam lying on the living room floor. Luke towered over Sam. A baseball bat dangled from Luke’s left hand.

  “No!” Aurora yelled.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Two hours later, Aurora waited in the emergency room at Lynchburg General. Don’t die, Sam. Please don’t die. Lord, I lost my baby, my dad, my mom. Please don’t let me lose Sam, too. Please!

  Aurora remembered the moment she and Sam met—the summer after her sophomore year at Virginia Tech. She was dozing on the dock when a deep, male voice had awakened her. Startled, she’d sat up quickly to see a speedboat idling in the water.

  “Ahoy the dock. We need help,” said the skipper.

  She noticed his twinkling blue eyes, his lean, muscular frame, and the sheepish grin that spread across his face. Despite the summer temperature of 94 degrees, she broke out in goose bumps.

  “We’re lost,” he said, indicating the two girls and the other guy on board. “Could you please direct me?” He unfolded a map and passed it to Aurora.

  As she studied the map, she could feel him staring at her. She blushed and said, “You’re here. Where do you wish to go?”

  He produced an address and buoy marker number, and then, with the pencil he handed her, Aurora traced the route they should take. “You shouldn’t have any trouble now.” Their fingers brushed as she handed the map and pencil back to him, and she trembled slightly.

  “Thanks a lot. Uh, what’s your name?”

  “Aurora.”

  “Thanks, Aurora. You’ve been a huge help. Amazing we could get so turned around.”

  “It’s because we were having so much fun skiin’ and swimmin’, Sam darlin’,” drawled the bikini-clad brunette as she leaned her perfect body against him.

  “Whatever,” he said. “Again, thanks a lot.”

  Aurora watched as he navigated away from the dock and into the main channel. He turned, waved goodbye, and Aurora’s life changed forever.

  The next afternoon, Aurora’s dad said, “A young man stopped by today. He was looking for you, said he met you on the dock yesterday. Came by boat, a sleek vintage Chris-Craft. Told him you’d gone to town, didn’t know when you’d be back.”

  “What did he look like, Dad? Did he tell you his name?”

  “Blonde hair, blue eyes. Think he said his name was Sam. Wasn’t it Sam, Margaret?” Aurora’s mother nodded. “Your mother and I were eating lunch by the water. He seemed like a nice, clean-cut young man. You know your mother; she invited him to join us.”

  “He graduated a year ago from North Carolina State University with a Master’s degree in engineering. Your father was impressed.” Aurora’s mother smiled fondly at her husband and patted his hand. “You know how your father likes to ‘talk technical.’ They discussed new innovations in engineering design and architecture.”

  Aurora’s heart pounded. “Did he say anything else?”

  “Oh, yes, he did mention that he’d be back to take you to dinner tonight. When I told him you might have plans, he said he’d stop by anyway around six-thirty, that if you couldn’t join him, he’d catch up with you some other time. I gave him directions to the house by car.” Margaret hadn’t missed the effect this news had on her daughter.

  Aurora remembered everything about that storybook evening. She had agonized for an hour over what to wear, finally settling on a red and white cotton pique print dress with short sleeves, scoop neck and flared skirt. White, daisy-shaped earrings, pearl necklace, and low-heeled white open-toed sandals completed her ensemble. Never would she forget how handsome Sam looked in his khaki suit and blue cotton shirt that matched his eyes exactly. He even surprised her with one perfect long-stemmed red rose. When he helped her slip into her white cashmere cardigan, the air seemed to crackle from the sparks flying between them.

  They drove to the Peaks of Otter for dinner, then headed home via the Blue Ridge Parkway. W
hen they stopped at a scenic overlook, Sam turned up the car radio and asked, “Care to dance?”

  “I’d love to.”

  With a full moon providing the lighting, they shagged to beach music and slow-danced to songs for lovers. An hour later, Sam said in a husky voice, “We’d better go.”

  When Sam delivered her to her door at 2:00 a.m., she invited him in for coffee. They ended up talking on the dock until dawn. Aurora learned later that her dad saw them at six in the morning sitting side by side on the dock, with their blonde heads close together, shoulders touching, and their feet dangling in the water. Occasionally the sound of Aurora’s infectious laugh floated up to the house. Jack woke Margaret, pointed to Aurora and Sam, and Margaret smiled, aware that something very special was happening to her daughter.

  Sam and Aurora married three years later at historic St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Forest. The hazy Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance provided the perfect backdrop for freshly mown fields of hay and the herd of black angus cattle that grazed in the pasture adjoining the church yard. Black-eyed Susans, daisies, and sweet-scented orange butterfly weed swayed in the breeze along the fence line. As the six bridesmaids, dressed in pale blue, ankle-length organza gowns began their ceremonial walk down the aisle to the altar steps, Aurora waited at the church entrance with her dad and thought there could not have been a more perfect day for a wedding.

  But then the music stopped and the organist screamed when a squirrel jumped from the top of the organ to the first pew, ducked around old Mr. Bendall who was seated in the fourth row on the bride’s side, ran to the groom’s side of the church, and shattered a vase of fresh flowers as it leaped up on a window sill.

  Thirty minutes later, after the groomsmen and some wedding guests had chased the squirrel out of the church, the wedding party re-grouped. Her mother, still laughing, assured Aurora that the event would give everybody something to talk about for years to come at dinner parties and bridge tables when the conversation lagged. Her mother was still giggling when Aurora, her arm entwined in her father’s, walked down the aisle to the altar and a lifetime as Mrs. Samuel Ross Harris. Aurora smiled at the memory. Her mother had been right, as usual.