Mosquito Man Read online

  Paul led Sammy up the flagstone walk, stopping to pick up his grandson’s bicycle, which had been abandoned on its side, kickstand be damned. The three stone holding cells were located in a room at the back of the building that also served as his office. Paul opened one of the barred doors and gestured for Sammy to enter.

  “How the hell long do I have to sit in there for?” Sammy asked, though he nevertheless entered the six-by-eight-foot cell without protest and flopped down on the bed.

  “A few hours, I reckon. Just try to get some shuteye. It’ll be morning before you know it.”

  “You wanna call the wife for me then? Tell her you locked me up and I won’t be home for supper?”

  “I can do that.”

  “And, hey, Paulsy—you got any food?”

  “Just get some rest, Sammy.”

  Paul closed the cell door, which deadlocked automatically. He went to his desk and sat down. By the time he had looked up Sammy’s phone number in the white pages, and had spoken with his missus (who took the news of her husband’s incarceration with bitter amusement), Sammy was already asleep and snoring loudly.

  Hanging up the phone, Paul sighed while stretching his arms above his head. On his desk sat three plastic-framed photographs of his grandson. The boy had short black hair and dark, cynical eyes like Paul’s (cop’s eyes, Paul always told him proudly), as well as the Harris nose, which some would say was so big it distracted from the other facial features, though Paul had always considered a large nose to be distinguished rather than obtrusive.

  A knock sounded at the front door.

  Paul glanced at the wall clock: 6:12 p.m. His official hours might be nine-to-five like everybody else’s, but he was unofficially on duty 24/7.

  His sigh turned into a groan as he heaved himself out of his chair, returned to the front of the station, and answered the door.

  Barbara McKenzie stood across the threshold, her craggy features bathed in the sepia tones of dusk. She pushed her tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of her sharp nose and smiled at him.

  “Evening, Paul,” she said.

  “Evening, Barb,” he said. “Let me guess. Vandals again?” Kids had been spray-painting menacing-looking stickmen on the trunks of some conifers in the vicinity of the museum.

  “No, no, not that. I wanted to tell you I had some interesting visitors at the museum just now.”

  “Oh?” he said, already thinking of an excuse to get out of the conversation tactfully.

  She nodded eagerly. “It’s about…well, you told me…this was a number of years ago…but you told me to let you know if I ever heard of anybody going down to Pavilion Lake.”

  “Oh?” he said again, his half-formed excuse immediately forgotten.

  “You won’t believe who it was either.”

  “Who, Barb?”

  “Rex,” she said with an uncertain smile. “Rex Chapman.”

  A sudden wash of unreality struck Paul like an open-handed slap. “That kid…” he said, frowning.

  Barb nodded. “He’s not a kid anymore…”

  “Are you sure it was Rex Chapman?”

  “Of course I’m sure! His hair was still as white as a snowflake. Not to mention he told me his name. He was with a woman—not his wife, I should mention—and two of the most adorable little children you have ever seen.”

  Paul ran a hand over the stubble surrounding his clenched mouth, the August night in ’81 returning to him in a jumble of rusty images. After Rex Chapman was found wandering on the highway, he stayed overnight with Paul and Nancy, in the guest bedroom. Not that he’d done much sleeping. He’d woken up every hour, screaming at the top of his lungs. And by morning, his previously blond hair had turned completely white. Every goddamn follicle.

  Paul had interviewed Rex a half-dozen times over the following two days, but the boy didn’t remember anything, not what had frightened him so badly, nor what had happened to his parents and older brother, none of whom had ever been heard from again.

  Barb was saying something.

  Paul looked at her without comprehension, his mind still fogged up with the past.

  “Paul?” she said. “Did you hear me?”

  “What was that, Barb?”

  “What are you going to do? You can’t let them stay on the lake. Not with everything that’s happened up there. The other families that’ve gone missing. The Petersons and—”

  “The Ryersons. But, hell, that was a dozen years ago now. Nothing’s happened since—”

  “Because everybody else moved away!”

  “Keep your voice down, Barb.”

  “Sorry, Paul,” she said, casting a wary glance at the stairs leading to the second floor. “But it’s just…I just…you were the one who told me to tell you if I heard of anybody going up to the lake.”

  “More than a decade ago, I did,” he said, lowering his voice as well. “But whoever was down there, Barb, whoever was responsible for whatever happened to the Chapmans and the Petersons and the Ryersons…that person’s gotta be at least my age now. He’s long gone—”

  “But—”

  “Or more than likely he’s dead. There’s nothing to get all worked up about—”

  “But what if someone is still up there?” she said. “What if something does happen? Those kids, Paul…”

  He shook his head in frustration. “What do you want me to do, Barb? It’s Rex’s cabin. It’s his right if he wants to go there.”

  “He probably doesn’t know better. He hasn’t been back since he was a kid. At least he hasn’t been seen in town, or spoken to anybody from town. So you have to at least tell him what’s happened since he left.”

  Paul placed a hand on the door with the intent to close it. “I need some time to think this through, Barb. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.” He started to close the door.

  She held it open with both hands. “You have to go up there, Paul.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  “Tonight.”

  “Let me think about it, okay?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Yes, fine, tonight.”

  Barb sagged with relief. “Thank you, Paul. Maybe I’m overreacting. I know I’m probably overreacting. But I just keep thinking about those adorable little kids…”

  “You go home now, Barb,” he said. “Everything is just fine.”

  She stepped back, nodding, and then started away.

  He closed the door halfway. “Barb?” he said.

  She turned back toward him. “Yes?”

  “Let’s keep this between you and me for now. Can we do that?”

  “Well, yes,” she said. “That’s probably a good idea. When are you going to go—?”

  “Soon,” he said, and closed the door all the way. Standing with his back to the wood, staring down the long hallway that led to the holding cells, Paul felt the skin over his skull and arms tingle and tighten, as if it was suddenly one size too small.

  “Paul?” Nancy’s voice floated down the stairs. “Who was that?”

  “Barbara Moore from the museum.”

  “What did she want?”

  “Nothing,” he said, before adding, “At least nothing important.”

  CHAPTER 3

  “That lady was strange, Mommy,” Ellie said.

  “Who are you talking about, honey?” Tabitha asked. They were passing through the northern stretches of Lillooet, looming foothills to the left of them, white-siding houses with wood-picket fences and scrub-filled lots to the right.

  “The mosquita story woman.”

  “You mean Barbara? Why was she strange?”

  “She just was.”

  Bluntly put, but Tabitha didn’t disagree. Barbara’s heavy-handed presence and melodramatic storytelling had been a bit over the top. A simple, “The restrooms are over there,” would have sufficed just fine.

  “Did the mosquito story scare you?” she asked her daughter.

  “A little,” Ellie admitted.

&
nbsp; “You’re not going to have nightmares, I hope?”

  “No…”

  “You’re a scaredy cat!” Bobby said.

  “Am not!” Ellie replied.

  “Am too!”

  “Am not—”

  “Guys!” Tabitha said sharply. “Enough. Can’t you think of something else to say?”

  “Like what?”

  Tabitha shook her head. They were five years old. They each had maybe a two-thousand-word vocabulary. How articulate did she expect them to be?

  “Just…give it a rest,” she said.

  “What are you watching there, Ellie?” Rex asked.

  “The Wiggles!” she said. “They’re from Austwalia.”

  “Bobby?” he said. “How’s your game? Kicking some Goomba butt?”

  “Huh?”

  “That’s what those little brown mushroom creatures you stomp on are called.”

  “Goombas?” Bobby said doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

  “Believe it or not, bud, Super Mario Bros. was around when I was a kid.”

  “Computers didn’t even exist when you were a kid!”

  “How old do you think I am?”

  “Twenty-five?” Ellie guessed earnestly.

  “Thanks, Ellie,” he said, “but no, I’m a tad older than that. Forty-five.”

  “Forty-five!” she repeated, impressed. “So soon you’ll be fifty. And after that, you’ll be dead.”

  “Anyway, Bobby, I’m telling you the truth. My dad bought me a Nintendo when they first came out in 1985. They even came with a gun back then.”

  “A real gun?” he asked.

  “No. It shot ducks.”

  “Real ducks?”

  “No...Goombas… What was I saying?”

  “I don’t know, Dad.”

  “Me either,” Ellie said, with exaggerated exasperation.

  “Tough audience,” Tabitha remarked.

  “Tell me about it,” he replied, chuckling.

  They drove on in silence for a little. Roughly a kilometer outside of town they crossed a bridge over the Fraser River and reunited with Highway 99. The two-lane road passed through a gentle meadow with a meandering creek before switchbacking into a jagged gorge bordered by rugged peaks. Road signs warned drivers on a regular basis to slow to thirty kilometers an hour around the tight bends, and to be vigilant of rock slides.

  “How much longer, Dad?” Bobby asked eventually.

  “Not too much longer, bud,” Rex said. “Just hold tight.”

  “I’m bored,” Ellie said.

  “I’m super bored,” Bobby said.

  “I’m boreder than you.”

  “Guys!” Tabitha said.

  “What?” Ellie asked.

  Closing her eyes, Tabitha tried tuning them out. When she was their age, she had been no less quarrelsome with her siblings. She was the youngest of three sisters. The eldest, Beth, was Rex’s age now, and a dentist in Portland. Ivy was thirty-seven and a sex therapist on a radio station that broadcasted out of Olympia. Although Tabitha didn’t visit as much as she would have liked, she had a good relationship with both of them.

  Which hadn’t been the case when they were kids. All she seemed to remember from those days was a lot of name-calling, hair-pulling, pinching, and double-crossing.

  Long car trips had been especially…adventurous…with each sister valiantly defending the invisible borders of their seat space from errant thighs or elbows.

  One car trip in particular stood out in her memory. It had been to Astoria, a three-and-a-half-hour drive from Seattle. There had been all the aforementioned sibling infighting on the way there, but as only children under a certain age were capable of, all was forgiven and forgotten as soon as they arrived at the campground where they were staying, which had featured a bouncy pillow, a playground with fast slides, a King Tut-themed mini-putt course, and a video game arcade. They ate lunch at a café/bakery that sold bread so fresh all it needed was butter. They stopped by the Goonies’ house from the namesake movie, which had just been released the previous summer. They went swimming at Cannon Beach, explored the shores around the famous Haystack Rock, and when darkness fell, they cooked wieners and s’mores over a campfire.

  I should really try to get in touch more with Beth and Ivy, she thought. Once or twice a year really wasn’t enough. Beth’s two boys were growing up so fast. And Ivy was six months pregnant with her first. Maybe I’ll drive down to Olympia and surprise her next week, she decided. Ivy would like that. We’ll go to that Italian restaurant she likes out on…where is it? No matter, I can google it…

  Tabitha opened her eyes and was surprised to find herself drowsy and disorientated. She had nodded off.

  She blinked the sleep from her eyes. The half-tones of dusk muted the landscape. Shadows pooled in the nooks and crannies of the foothills. Streaks of vermillion and cotton-candy pink colored the sky.

  “Welcome back, sleepy-head,” Rex said.

  She stifled a yawn. “How long was I out?”

  “Half hour.”

  “That’s all? Feels like hours.”

  “Perfect timing.” He pointed out her window. “Should be just around this bend…”

  “Oh my,” she said when the lake came into view. It was glass-smooth and perhaps a half-mile in diameter. Its mirrored surface, tinted red from the setting sun, reflected the forested slopes rising steeply from its far bank. “It’s beautiful. Kids—”

  “Wow!” Ellie said.

  “Are we here?” Bobby asked.

  “Just about, bud,” Rex said.

  A few minutes later they reached the northern tip of the lake. Rex turned off the highway onto a dirt lane, which followed the shore east. Almost immediately they were bumping up and down so violently to elicit gasps and cries from the kids.

  Rex stopped the car. “The road was never this bad,” he said, frowning.

  “Looks like it hasn’t been used in years,” she said. “Yours isn’t the only cabin on the lake, is it?”

  “No, there are another half-dozen others…” He shook his head. “I wonder if they built another road in?”

  “GPS is showing only this one,” she said, consulting the navigation system in the center console.

  He sighed. “Guess we’re going to have to walk.” He turned in his seat. “Sorry, guys. There’s a little problem with the road. Are you okay with a short nature walk?”

  “Do we have to?” Ellie asked. “My feet hurt.”

  “You haven’t even walked anywhere yet!”

  “They still hurt.”

  “Well, we can sleep out here in the car…”

  “Can we?” she asked excitedly.

  “No, sweetie,” Tabitha said. “And we’re not arguing the point. So pack up your bag.”

  “How far is it, Daddy?” Bobby asked.

  “Not too far, bud,” he said. “We should still get there before dark.”

  ***

  Tabitha placed her hands on the small of her back and twisted her torso. The stretch felt good. How long had they been on the road? Five hours? Six?

  Her gaze settled on the dirt lane that snaked away from them into a stand of impressive old-growth trees consisting of birch, Douglas fir, whitebark, pine, and spruce giants. The road was torn up with ruts and potholes and lined with knee-high grasses and weeds. The sight filled her with an undefined, uneasy dread. Nobody would let their road fall into such disrepair, which meant nobody likely lived, or even vacationed, out here anymore.

  Why not? It was God’s country, pristine and beautiful.

  Rex noticed her frowning and said, “Shouldn’t take us more than twenty minutes to get there.”

  “It’s not that,” she said. “It’s just…” She shook her head. “Nothing. Ellie? Are you ready?”

  Her daughter was trying to stuff her iPad into her pink Hello Kitty backpack. “It doesn’t fit!”

  “I’m sure it does.”

  “Bobby,” Rex said. “No Nintendo. Leave it behind in the car, ple
ase.”

  Bobby looked like someone had just cracked an egg on his face. “But I want to bring it!”

  “There are plenty of other things to do out here than play video games.”

  “Like what?”

  “How about I take you fishing in the morning?”

  “Really?”

  “Sure.”

  Reluctantly, Bobby placed the Nintendo on the back seat.

  “That’s a good point,” Tabitha said. “Ellie, I’d like you to leave your iPad behind too.”

  “Mommy, no!”

  “I’m not arguing, sweetie.”

  “Mommy, I’m not joking, I’m not kidding, and I’m not playing. I need my iPad.”

  “No, you don’t need it, Missy. Like Rex said, there are plenty of other things to do out here.”

  “I don’t even want to go fishing! I hate fish!”

  “Put it in the car, Ellie,” Tabitha said. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

  Huffing, she tugged the tablet from her bag and tossed it onto the back seat. She didn’t have to worry about damaging it as it was wrapped in a mango-orange shockproof case.

  “Thank you,” Tabitha said. Then, to Rex, “Does this apply to us too?”

  “Why not?” he said, digging his phone from his pocket.

  Tabitha produced hers from her handbag. “I need to make a quick call first—check on everything at home.” She dialed her eldest daughter’s cell phone number. It rang four times before going to voicemail. “Surprise, surprise,” she said. “Vanessa’s not answering.”

  “On purpose, you think?” Rex asked.

  “That phone doesn’t leave her person, ever. Definitely on purpose.”

  “She’s having a party!” Ellie crowed.

  “Better not be,” Tabitha grumbled.

  “Here.” Rex passed her his phone. “She won’t recognize my number.”

  “You don’t think she’ll find a second call right after the first suspicious?”

  “Probably. But it could be a boy she likes. Would she risk not answering that call?”

  Tabitha accepted the phone and dialed her daughter’s number again.