Sting in the Tail: Carnival of Mysteries by TA Moore

Author:TA Moore [Moore, TA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rogue Firebird Press
Published: 2023-10-03T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

IT WAS TOO early for a beer. Ledger had one, anyhow.

He sat on the tailgate of Wren’s truck, downed the lukewarm Pabst, and stared out at the lake. It looked blue and peaceful, still, except for the reflections of the clouds that scudded over the sky.

“We used to come here every summer,” Ledger said. He took a swig of beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It felt almost normal.”

“I’m not the one to weigh in on that.” Wren climbed up on the wheel and leaned over to grab a beer out of the truck. It made a sharp hiss as he popped the tab. “But I guess growing up with a cultist serial killer, neither are you.”

It was hard to argue with that.

“People always say things like ‘he was such a nice man’ or ‘no one ever expected a thing,’” Ledger said. “Not Bell. No one knew he murdered people, but no one was surprised to find out he did. He was… off. But every summer, we’d pack up and come down here, swim, fish, and run around in the woods.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah,” Ledger said. He drained his beer, crushed the can, and tossed it behind him into the bed of the truck. It all felt so normal, the sort of conversation people who’d not seen behind the set-dressing had. There was probably something dangerous about indulging in it. “It kind of took the shine off it when I realized this is where he brought his victims the rest of the year. Pretty sure the ones that were never found are at the bottom of that lake.”

Wren paused as he looked down at the crayon-blue waters. “Was it good fishing?”

In anyone else, it would be sarcasm. Ledger wasn’t too sure about Wren. He was willing to put a lot of things in his mouth. He waited for his brain to bite down on the implication, but… not today. That was fair enough.

“You’ve never been out here?” he asked.

Wren raised an eyebrow at him and braced his elbows on the wall of the truck bed. “I’m not really a fish-and-game guy,” he said. “Oddly enough.”

“No fish,” Ledger said. “People have tried to stock it, but the fish just die.”

“Something down there?” Wren asked as he glanced at the lake.

“Industrial chemicals,” Ledger said. “It used to be an old quarry. You probably shouldn’t let children swim in it, either.”

He pulled his feet up under him and stood up so he could scan the shoreline. It took him a second, but…

“There,” he said, pointing to the weathered little building—hut almost—with the tar paper roof and the stumpy, half-rotted dock that stuck out partially into the lake. “That’s Bell’s cabin.”

“I’m surprised it’s still there,” Wren said. “It can’t be good for tourism. People want summer campsites, not kill cabins.”

“Nobody knew,” Ledger said. “Not about the cabin. It belonged to Mom’s family. I guess they still don’t. I doubt anyone has been there since Bell was arrested.”

He felt that catch again, as if he’d snagged his thoughts on a broken nail or something.

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