Page 100 of The Lake Escape
“We arranged to meet Susie at the Shack so we could talk it out. When she got there, I begged her to give me the letter. I told her she was putting herself in grave danger by threatening to expose someone as powerful as my dad. When Susie wouldn’t comply, I took out the gun. It was Rick’s idea to use it as a last resort.
“We planned it all carefully, including the pistol I would take from my father’s collection. I needed something small and lightweight that I could conceal. The gun wasn’t loaded—we had checked and made sure. I swear to you, we only meant to scare her, nothing more. The plan was that I would pull the triggeronlyifSusie refused to give me the letter. We figured one moment of true terror would convince her to back down, that she would realize the next time it would be Cormac Gallagher confronting her, and the shot would be for real.
“Susie wouldn’t hand over the letter, and I did as we had planned. I fired. The gun wasn’t loaded. We triple-checked the magazine—it was empty. But we never checked the chamber—didn’t think of it—and that’s where the bullet that killed Susie must have been. It hit her in the chest. We tried to save her, but we didn’t know how, and she died so quickly.”
Erika’s composure fractures as tears slip from her swollen eyes. Even in the low light, I can tell her complexion is gray. Rick’s isn’t much better. They are reliving the worst moment of their lives, and I’m convinced that Erika’s sorrow and regret—Rick’s too—are genuine.
“We buried her on Rick’s property—his family’s hunting grounds would be safe, or so we thought. We cleaned up as much evidence as we could, removed all the blood from the scene, disposed of our clothes. Susie vanished, and the investigation into her disappearance went nowhere. We were in the clear. All we had to deal with was our guilt, and the sick feeling that has followed us for thirty years.
“We thought that was the end of it. But then, Rick’s family sold the land, without telling us. We got nervous, fearing someone would find Susie’s remains. But we couldn’t remember exactly where we had buried her. That night we’d been in a fog. We were both in shock, so we never marked the spot.
“Then our worst nightmare came true. Someone else unearthed our terrible secret. I tried not to panic, but we were so scared. We never did find the bullet that killed her. We assumed it was lodged in her body. But I knew the police wouldn’t be able to trace a bullet back to us without the weapon. So, we felt relatively safe.
“That is, until David approached us, demanding money for his new business opportunity. I told him I wasn’t interested. But David wouldn’t take no for an answer. He said: ‘I know whose bones those are, and I know who put her there.’
“He recounted that night to me, moment by moment. He knew it all, every awful detail—what we did, how we acted, things I said to Rick, words I’ll never forget no matter how hard I try. There was no doubt he was a witness.”
Erika shakes her head in a slow sweep of dismay.
My hard stare drills into her. “My grandmother died not knowing her daughter as an adult, not even being able to bury her. My mother became a shadow of herself, always living in fear. You took a lot more than one life that day.”
Erika’s eyes again fill with tears. “We didn’t mean to hurt her or anyone else. It was an accident. We’ve never forgiven ourselves.”
She buries her head in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Rick places his arm around his wife’s shoulders for comfort.
“I never understood your relationship with Rick or why you gave up your art for law school,” Julia says. “But now I do. It wasn’t love that brought you together. It was trauma. And you became a defense attorney to absolve others of guilt because you couldn’t do it for yourself. But I don’t understand why David was there that night.”
“He told us he came to have a beer at the Shack. He got there at the wrong time and saw what went down.” Even Rick’s thick beard can’t hide his pain. “When he blackmailed us, we were shocked by what he knew—all those years he kept quiet, but he knew. We paid him what he wanted, and we kept paying when he came back for more, all while trying to find a way to end it. Our bank accounts were getting low, and he was building his huge house.”
While all of this is revelatory, it still doesn’t explain Fiona’s involvement, so I ask Erika about her. The regret rolls off her tongue like a great unfurling wave.
“I’ve known Fiona for a long time. I lied about that,” Erika admits. “We were never close because of our age difference, but I met her several times over the years. And Fiona knew all about me. She came to me looking for advice. She wanted to escape her life and get away from Jimmy T for good.
“She told me about Bella and what her father had done to thatboy they found in the river. It wasn’t the life she wanted—a world full of violence, always looking over your shoulder and trying to stay one step ahead of the law. She said something that I know to be true: it’s hard to leave the Mob when you know too much.
“I had managed to build a life apart from the family business, but I couldn’t really leave it completely until my father died. Fiona didn’t have that kind of out, and Uncle James kept an iron grip on her. She was stuck, and I wasn’t sure how to help.
“As we kept talking and getting to know each other better, she realized I was friends with David. She knew he was one of her father’s employees—the one Jimmy held second-most accountable for Bella’s death.
“And that’s when I came up with my idea. Fiona wanted to disappear, and I wanted to be free from David. I realized we could both get what we wanted, and David could get what he deserved.
“Revenge for Bella wasn’t really on Fiona’s mind, but when she heard my plan, it became an added bonus. The timing couldn’t have been better—thirty years since the last disappearance. We would tie it into the lake lore and start to build evidence against David.
“It was all carefully planned, and Fiona was more than willing to play her part. We set up a supposedly chance encounter in a coffee shop, and Fiona worked her charm. Everything was in place—missing girl, bloody evidence—but we still needed a smoking gun to make it all work.”
Julia’s face comes alive. “Baker told me that she found a gun in David’s house… I didn’t think he owned one. Did you two…?”
“There are no registration or licensing requirements in Vermont,” Rick says. “The police can’t trace ownership. David could say the gun isn’t his, but he can’t prove it. Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”
Wow. I’m horrified, but also somewhat amazed by the plan they managed to execute.
“You planted the gun used to kill my aunt in David’s house,” I whisper. “And what about the bloody shirt?”
“Fiona planted the gun,” says Rick. “And Erika put the shirtunder the porch after the search ended. It’s Fiona’s blood from a small self-inflicted cut to her hand.”
“And now both bits of evidence are with Detective Baker,” says Erika. “Rick and I had talked about planting the gun on David long before Fiona got involved, but it was too risky. Calling in a tip after all these years would seem suspicious. However, a missing person and a search warrant—and suddenly David looks like a careless killer responsible for the deaths of two different women.”
Her words sting with the finality of a bullet.
