Read Online Black Otter Bay by Vincent Wyckoff - Free Book Online Page A

hardest time justifying. With long, wispy, thin hair and shifty eyes, he gave Abby the creeps. Randall’s mother, Rosie, owned the bait shop, but he had no interest in the business or small-town life. Jackie had found a kindred spirit in Randall. The lure of the city called to both of them, and when Jackie left Black Otter Bay for good, the two of them took up together in a small apartment on the eastern edge of downtown Duluth. Abby and Ben had spent a couple days with her after she was settled in, but they had no interest in going back. They saw their mother when she came home to visit, but she didn’t make the trip up here much anymore. It was probably like her father said, Abby thought: Jackie didn’t want to spend time in a tiny, rural town any more than Abby wanted to visit the big city.
    Randall held minor financial interests in several small businesses in Duluth. He wore flashy suits, drove a small sportscar, and Abby thought he strutted around like one of those hyperactive little dogs, a cockapoo or whatever they called them. If the man ever had to do an honest day’s work, like her father did down at the taconite plant, it would kill him. Randall owned an art gallery, known as The Tempest, in the East End of Duluth. Jackie worked for him, dressing up in tailored business suits, greeting customers and, after getting to know them, showing select pieces she thought would be of interest to them. The prestige of her position appealed to her. The clientele was generally older and affluent, and Jackie’s graceful bearing and knowledgeable conversation suited the job perfectly.
    By night, she worked the dollar slot machines in the downtown casino. Recently, Abby had overheard some troubling talk about her mother. Rumor had it that she owed the casino money. She might even have a gambling problem. Her father wouldn’t acknowledge the rumors, wouldn’t discuss it with Abby at all, other than the one time when he’d said, “It’s just a bunch of mean-spirited people saying these things. Don’t you believe them.”
    Mean-spirited?
Abby thought. Her own classmates were the ones doing the talking. When she considered her mother’s behavior, she preferred to think of her as being temporarily insane. She’d come to her senses sooner or later. And Abby really didn’t care what her friends said. She wasn’t embarrassed about her mother leaving, but if she ever came home, she had some serious explaining to do.
    Abby’s pace never faltered as she covered the distance to Big Island Lake. Sure-footed and determined, she ran lightly, her thoughts carrying her past the burning in her lungs and the ache in her thighs. It helped that it was lighter on this western side of the ridge. There was more animal sign, too, and at one point she spotted a pileated woodpecker in its undulating flight through the woods. Deer tracks littered the forest floor, especially now with the snow gone and everything wet and muddy.
    Dropping down off the hillside, Abby noted a large opening in the foliage ahead. It wasn’t so much that she could seethrough the trees into the clearing, as that the existence of the opening was apparent to someone used to looking for such things. And an opening that large in this country signified one of two things: the site of recent logging operations or the presence of a lake. Quickly scanning the terrain, Abby estimated her location. The abandoned road leading to the boat landing and Rosie’s minnow seines wound in off the county highway about a quarter mile from the base of the hill. The trail she was on would take her to the iced-in side of the lake where she and Ben had first come this morning.
    There wasn’t much underbrush this early in the season, so after plotting an imaginary line through the woods, Abby jumped off the trail on a heading to cross the old roadway. Within minutes, patches of blue water flashed through the trees. The sun had