29. Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Twenty-nine
Remington James
“ R emi, where are the wet floor signs?”
Beats me. Two kids goofing off in the bumper boat line fell into the pond, then their parents walked them through the main ticket office. Puddles of water need to be cleaned up everywhere.
“I dorn’t knorr,” I say in a heavy cockney accent adjusting the purple cat’s eyeglasses with scratched up lenses. Twenty minutes and I can make the trek back to The Bends. It’s been a long day at the Funpark. Cal had baseball, Nat was with Mitchell helping him pack up Carlotta’s things, Keenan was at Hidden Treasures. Alone at work with Skip and a troop of new employees, mostly high school kids, I was asked five thousand questions, settled countless squabbles, and never got a break.
Skip won’t look at me or say a word. Still repeating the things, he said to me in my head, I’m okay with our distance. “Well, she doesn’t have anyone else, I have to take her, right?” It’s remarkable we share a small space, but don’t need to communicate. Natalie plays the go-between.
My problems just keep piling up.
Grady is leaving soon,
Charlie told Grady he thinks Wilder is remembering things he did in his visions (I don’t agree),
Cal has been bickering with Charlie,
Wilder keeps both Grady and I at a respectful distance, driving me insane with both worry and want.
There is no clarity to Wilder’s visions, the drownings, or the freaky shit going on at the Funpark or our cabin.
Thoughts of Relia are plaguing me.
Everything feels up in the air.
Today, I was feeling outrageous. Digging deep into the trunk that Relia left behind, I came up with an attire so obnoxious, I snorted in derision looking at myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom. Pairing the Funpark purple T-shirt, with black pantaloons from a pirate’s costume, fishnet stockings, and platform sixties boots. Glittery makeup, cat’s eye glasses, and a strong accent top it all off. At least the stares today could be explained by the way I was looking and not what or who I was doing.
Once I’m leaving for the day, the platforms need to go. I toss them in the trash since one of the soles was loose, and start home shoeless. Wiggling my toes as I walk, since the boots were a size too small.
Burning a hole in my canvas tote that I shoved my lunch into this morning, is a letter I’d been waiting for from the Sheriff’s office. Susanna Ross’ accident report… well, anything that is available to the public. I could have asked for more reports, but curiosity over why that was the one reopened is why I’m starting there.
Cutting through the wooded area near the Bends, I go straight to Wilder’s cabin, hoping he’ll look over the report with me. I’m picking pieces of sticks and grass from my feet where they got stuck in the fishnets when Wilder opens his door, beckoning me in, “I thought dress up was over? I don’t give a crap what you wear, but it seemed like you were done with your performance art.”
“Mmm… interesting take on it. I just felt like wearing this today.” I stopped talking in an accent after clocking out from the Funpark. “This came in the mail.” I hand the envelope to him, stepping inside past him.
His huff of a laugh follows me, as I make my way to the table. “Full of surprises as usual.”
I stop short, whipping around to look at him, “What’s my dog doing here?” Droolius peers at me tongue hanging out of his smiley mouth, where he’s perched on the couch.
“You mean my dog now?” He teases as he opens the envelope, laying the pages on the table in front of us. “Do you even need to ask me that? If the rodent and the rocks you call frogs could escape they would. There’s something not right next door.” He’s not wrong. I’m finding myself increasingly uneasy about shutting my eyes at night, afraid of being helpless in my sleep.
“ Your dog, huh? I mean, I get it, but…” Shaking my head at him, I can’t help but add, “He probably gets more love and attention from you than I do.”
Wilder bites the inside of his cheek, his hand tentatively resting on my lower back. “You know how I feel about you. I’ve…” he clears his throat, his hand falling away, “I’ve been having spells three or four times a day now. It's been getting worse since Grady’s party. I just don’t want to subject anyone to that.”
“That’s even more of a reason to stay close to us. What if you hurt yourself? What kind of reasoning is that?” I could shake him. “Nope. I’m making it a point to check on you now.”
Wilder looks at me with a faint smile. “You and Ceily, both huh?”
“Once I tell Grady, you can count on him visiting, too.” He stills at the mention of his former best friend but doesn’t say a word about it.
“It’s a police report?” Wilder scans the pages, picking up the heavily redacted autopsy report with pictures of Susanna Ross’ body along with a labeled body diagram. “I could’ve gone the rest of my life not seeing these.”
Her body is seen in sections, areas where the elements in the lake marred her soft tissues. It’s the picture of her neck that catches my attention. “Look at that.” I point to a reddened mark, an angry slash… not deep looking but it reminds me of a rope burn. “The pathologist noted it with whatever this code means.”
I scan all the pages… Tissues and bodily fluids sampling and submission for toxicological analysis… Body/clothing: condition, wetness, intactness, aquatic debris… Wrinkling and pallor of palms and soles, froth/foam… Supportive findings of drowning.
Brow lowered, Wilder grabs the narrative of the initial police report. Parts are blacked out. He turns the page saying, “Now we need to figure out why they would change this .” It’s a summary, with the disposition. Detective Hemminger already told us that the case was reopened, but seeing this begs for more information. Homicidal Drowning.