The Drowning Child

31

Clyde was sitting on a rock beside Cabin 8. Ren walked down to him.

‘Hey,’ said Ren, gently. ‘How are you doing?’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve been better.’ He was holding a tattered photograph in his hand.

His sister. ‘Who’s that in the photograph?’

‘My sister, Lizzie,’ he said.

‘How old was she?’ said Ren.

‘Ten,’ said Clyde. ‘This was taken the year she died.’ He handed her the photo. Lizzie was a skinny, tanned little girl, dressed in a navy-and-white striped swimsuit, her wavy, sandy blonde hair falling around her shoulders, one hand trying to push it back off her face.

‘She’s adorable,’ said Ren. She paused. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Clyde nodded. ‘Thank you.’ He looked at her. ‘I wish I could go back in time...’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ said Ren.

‘That’s what everyone keeps telling me,’ said Clyde. ‘But if I had just insisted on fixing that deck...’

‘You’re being too hard on yourself,’ said Ren. ‘You did what you were told to do by the owners. And you were only seventeen years old. Do the same owners still own this cabin?’ said Ren.

‘No. It was part of the sale when John Veir bought the site.’

Ren nodded. He looked up at her, expectant.

Why am I here? Well, I thought you might be dead. That’s why. Jesus.

‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘Is there anything you can think of, Clyde, anything you saw, anyone you saw here the night Aaron drowned – someone who looked out of place or was acting suspiciously?’

‘No,’ said Clyde, ‘not that I can think of. I would have said. I told you about Aaron’s back.’

‘You did,’ said Ren. She looked around. ‘When was the last time you were here?’

‘Christmas Eve.’

Jesus Christ. He comes here at Christmas.

Ren looked at the cabin. It was in a worse state than all the others, the timber battered, the paint flaking, roof tiles missing, a section of the roof caved in. The windows she could see were boarded up.

‘I feel so bad about Aaron,’ said Clyde. ‘If I’d been here…’

‘Don’t,’ said Ren. ‘You weren’t responsible for what happened to Aaron.’

He looked down at the photo of Lizzie.

‘And what happened to your sister was a tragic accident,’ said Ren.

She squeezed his shoulder, and walked away. As she made her way up the slope, a chill swept over her.

Bad things happen around Clyde Brimmer.

She turned back to look at him. His shoulders were shaking. He looked so small, hunched and weeping, against the vast expanse of the lake, next to the tumbledown cabin that haunted him still.

That’s why you sit in the window of The Crow Bar; you find comfort in being vigilant, you think you need to make amends.

‘Clyde?’ she said.

He turned around and looked up at her with his soft blue, watery eyes.

Bad things happen around Clyde Brimmer.

No.

No: this is just a damaged, heartbroken man.

‘Look after yourself,’ she said.

When Ren got to The Crow Bar, Shannon was putting plates of sandwiches on the tables. She looked up. ‘Just if any of your guys are hungry,’ she said. ‘They’ve a lot of ground to cover.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Ren.

‘Did you find Clyde?’

‘I did, thank you,’ said Ren. ‘That poor man.’

‘I know,’ said Shannon. ‘I’m not sure he’s ever going to be right.’

Ren heard a shout from inside the house. It was Seth.

‘Fuck this shit!’ he said. ‘No!’

Ren was startled.

‘PlayStation,’ said Shannon. Her expression was a tolerant one.

PlayStation...

‘Mind if I go in?’ said Ren.

‘Sure – go ahead,’ said Shannon. ‘It’s down that hallway, where I was when you came in with Pete.’

Ren knocked on Seth’s door. There was no answer. She walked in. Seth was sitting on a black beanbag on the floor, his back up against the bed, with headphones on, playing Grand Theft Auto.

His fingers were furiously, effortlessly, working the controls.

I have Nintendo muscle memory.

Caleb... Grand Theft Auto... PlayStation cheats... did Seth Fuller lure kids in here with this?

PlayStations are everywhere.

This one looks new. But there’s a dent at the corner.

‘No!’ said Seth to the screen. ‘Motherfucker! Fuck you! Fuck, fuck, fuck!’

He caught Ren out of the corner of his eye and jumped. He pulled off his headphones. ‘You scared the crap out of me!’ he said, struggling to sit upright in a black beanbag. On screen, his car crashed. ‘Damn!’ he said. Then he paused. ‘Sorry. Is everything OK? Why are you here? Where’s Aunt Shannon? Is she all right?’

‘She’s out in the bar – she’s fine,’ said Ren.

She looked at the PlayStation. ‘How long have you had that?’

‘I feel bad, but since Aaron died. It was Aaron’s.’

‘And when did he get it?’

‘For Christmas. From Aunt Shannon.’

‘What happened to the corner?’

Seth leaned in. ‘What?’

‘Do you see that dent in it?’ said Ren.

‘No,’ said Seth. He walked over to it, crouched down, got to within three inches of it. ‘Oh, yeah, now I see it.’ He ran his thumb down it. ‘No idea. Never noticed it before.’

You’re a checked-out kind of guy.

‘Did Caleb Veir ever play this?’

Seth shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Did Caleb ever mention getting a PlayStation to you?’ said Ren.

‘No,’ said Seth. ‘Why are you asking about PlayStations?’

‘Just wondering,’ said Ren. ‘Can you call up the player list?’

‘Sure,’ said Seth. He did as she asked, and pointed to the names. ‘That’s me, and that’s Aaron.’

‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘Thanks.’

Shannon appeared in the hallway.

‘Everything OK?’ she said. Her eyes were filled with fear.

You have so much invested in this kid, you don’t want him to be in any more trouble.

‘Yes,’ said Ren. She turned back to Seth. ‘I hate to break your heart, here, Seth, but I’m going to need to take that PlayStation away.’

‘What?’ said Seth. ‘Why?’

‘We’d just like to take a look at it,’ said Ren.

‘Come over here, take a look at it right now,’ said Seth.

‘If they want to take it,’ said Shannon. ‘Let them take it.’ She turned to Ren. ‘The trauma.’

‘Seth, I wanted to confirm something with you,’ said Ren. ‘You were here on the night Aaron died, is that right?’

‘Yes,’ said Seth.

‘Yes,’ said Shannon at the same time.

Ren turned to Shannon. ‘I read in your questionnaire that you were drinking that night...’

Shannon nodded. ‘Yes.’

She knows where I’m going with this.

‘But I checked on Seth before I went to bed,’ said Shannon. ‘And I could hear him snoring when I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom.’

‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘Seth, do you know anything about a key that’s missing from Clyde’s keychain? It’s the key to Cabin 8.’

Seth looked at Shannon, then back at Ren. ‘No,’ said Seth. ‘But get him to check again – Clyde’s got a million keys on there.’

Shannon nodded. ‘I think he collects them as he goes, never gets rid of them, even ones he knows he’ll never need again.’

Seth splayed his fingers, wiggled them. ‘He’s probably on an eternal search for the one that will unlock the mystery of Clyde Brimmer.’ He smiled.

I like you, Seth Fuller.

I hope you’re not a killer.