Read Online Don’t Talk to Strangers: A Novel by Amanda Kyle Williams - Free Book Online

lightly over the lake. The wind felt
     good against my face. There was a chance I was going to make it without barfing all
     over the sheriff’s boots. Then Meltzer made a sharp turn toward the shoreline and
     my stomach came all the way up to my eyeballs.
    He pulled alongside a lopsided, weather-beaten dock, got out, anchored the boat. “You
     look a little green there, Dr. Street.” His eyes narrowed like he might smile.
    “Thanks for noticing,” I said and climbed over the side. Even the half-rotted old
     dock felt good under my feet.
    Meltzer sprayed his arms with mosquito repellent, then tossed me the can. We headed
     up an incline into the thick woods that bordered the lake. “It’s a little bit of a
     hike to where we found the bodies no matter which direction you come from,” he told
     me. “By water or highway. My department has to have a visible presence on the waterjust to keep the tourists from getting drunk and running over each other. We’re committed
     to heavy marine and highway patrols. It’s the bulk of the department. But the suspect
     obviously slipped by us.
    Twice.”
    I’d heard about Meltzer’s patrols and the highly successful speed traps. I didn’t
     mention it. “Which way presents the least risk?” I was thinking about rhythms. The
     rhythm of a place—when people fish and boat and camp, when cops make their rounds.
     All the things a killer has to think about.
    “There’s a campground half a mile from the site. My patrols can’t see it from the
     road. A lantern out here on the lake at night is going to be seen. And you need a
     lantern. Water’s as black as oil at night. But the woods are thick. Nobody would see
     a flashlight. Plus, the climb isn’t as steep. If it was me and I was dealing with
     a dead body, that’s how I’d come in.”
    “Is the creek accessible by smaller craft?” I asked. I felt perspiration gathering
     around my hairline. Even the shady cover of the woods couldn’t take the humidity out
     of the tropical system hanging over us, so heavy a butter knife would have hung in
     the air. I took a band out of my pocket and pulled my hair back off my neck as we
     walked.
    “Catawba is wide but it’s shallow in places,” the sheriff answered. “Good for trout
     and inner tubes. Around here, mostly what you get is fishermen and hunters. Season
     for firearms doesn’t start up again until the end of September. I’ve been out here
     several times since we found the girls and so have my two investigators. None of us
     has run into a human once.”
    “You run into anything else?”
    Meltzer stopped, looked at me, the light growing in his brown eyes. “Animals, you
     mean?” He laughed. It was a good laugh, easy and uninhibited. “Not really the outdoorsy
     type, huh?”
    I’d dressed for a hike through the woods. I’d prepared. I was wearing combat boots
     and cargo pants, for Christ’s sake. I looked like a member of a SWAT team. What did
     this guy want from me? Okay, so I don’t like being on water and I think about things
     like bears. It’s not like I’d shown up in Christian Louboutins. I ignored him and
     kept walking. “What do you know about the parents of the victims?”
    “I haven’t met Tracy Davidson’s parents. But Melinda’s parents are good people. They’re
     friends of mine.” We stepped over a fallen tree trunk and pushed our way through brush.
     “Not a lot of education but hardworking,” the sheriff added. “She’s a waitress at
     the Silver Spoon and he runs the bowling alley in Whisper. Melinda was a nice kid.”
     His voice wobbled. “Damn.” He kicked at rock and dry leaves. “Hard to see people hurt
     the way they did when Melinda didn’t come home.”
    “Do you mind if I have a look at the interviews you did with the parents after each
     victim disappeared?”
    Meltzer shot me a look I wasn’t sure about. Annoyance, perhaps. “They weren’t interviews
     exactly. Not with Melinda’s parents anyway. More