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Authors: Lori Handeland
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keep their relationship secret, Kris decided to. She wasn’t supposed to be doing anything in Drumnadrochit but writing a children’s book about the local lake monster.
And wasn’t that a bizarre combination? Children and monsters? Then again, maybe not. Who else believed in them?
“If I think of something, I’ll let you know,” Kris said.
Since that was true, the words came out sounding sincere. Since Alan was preoccupied—his gaze had gone past her to the thick grove of trees—he didn’t notice Kris’s tension at omitting the truth. To her, a lie of omission was still a lie, and she didn’t like it.
“Ye know where t’ find me.” Alan inched past but paused when Kris spoke.
“Is this murder?”
His face gave away nothing, but she had the distinct impression he was annoyed. “A drowning is usually an accident.”
“Unless it wasn’t.”
“We’ll have t’ wait and see.” He walked away.
She didn’t like withholding information from the police. It made her uncomfortable. But if she was going to find out anything at all about who was perpetrating the Loch Ness hoax, she’d best keep her secrets a secret. If word got around—and it would in a place like this—that Kris was some kind of spy for an American agent, there was no telling what would happen.
* * *
Liam watched from the forest as Kris made her way to Loch Side Cottage
“He’s here.” Alan Mac strode into the cool, mellow darkness of the trees. “He was talking to her.”
“There are a lot of hes about right now. Ye’ll have t’ be more specific.”
“Mandenauer.”
Liam tensed, then narrowed his gaze on the crowd. “I dinnae see him.”
“Gone now. But he could still be in Drumnadrochit.”
“What did he tell her?”
Alan Mac shrugged. “Didnae seem like much, but with him ye never know.”
Liam relaxed just a little. “He’ll no doubt visit now and again until the day that he dies, and he often talks to people. He often does much more than talk. ’Tis nothing new.”
“These killings are.”
“Ye think Edward Mandenauer is drowning young girls? He’s in lovely shape for an old, old man, but I doubt he’s capable of that.”
Alan didn’t answer but continued to stare at Liam until Liam sighed and met his eyes. “Ye think it was me?”
“Was it?”
“I havenae drowned a maiden in years,” Liam said dryly.
Alan Mac snorted. “Like ye’d tell me if ye had.”
The two of them pondered the crowds, the lights, the tarp-covered body at the edge of the loch.
“We aren’t going to be able to keep this quiet anymore,” Alan Mac murmured.
Liam didn’t answer. He hadn’t thought they’d be able to keep it quiet this long.
* * *
Kris returned to the cottage, hoping she could fall into bed and straight into sleep. Instead, as soon as she closed her eyes, she saw the face of a nameless dead girl.
Still, Kris tossed and she turned and she tried for quite a while, but eventually she sat up and turned on the light. Where was her book?
Kris padded into the living area, where her copy of Supernatural Secrets —always a good place to ferret out her next hoax—lay on the couch. She leaned over to pick it up, glancing through the window as she straightened.
Someone stood near the water.
Her heart leaped. The murderer perhaps? How long until he headed for the cottage? Kris wished Edward had handed over one of his guns along with his money.
As if she’d know what to do with a gun if she had one. Though how hard could it be? Long end pointed toward what you wanted to shoot and then—
“Bang,” she murmured, still staring at the figure near the loch.
The moon shone down like the beam of an alien spacecraft. If she were fanciful she’d expect him to drift upward, captured forever and gone.
Instead, he bathed in the light, as if the moon were water and he was parched. The sheen sparkled in his hair like dew, and suddenly she realized who it was.
Despite the chill and
And wasn’t that a bizarre combination? Children and monsters? Then again, maybe not. Who else believed in them?
“If I think of something, I’ll let you know,” Kris said.
Since that was true, the words came out sounding sincere. Since Alan was preoccupied—his gaze had gone past her to the thick grove of trees—he didn’t notice Kris’s tension at omitting the truth. To her, a lie of omission was still a lie, and she didn’t like it.
“Ye know where t’ find me.” Alan inched past but paused when Kris spoke.
“Is this murder?”
His face gave away nothing, but she had the distinct impression he was annoyed. “A drowning is usually an accident.”
“Unless it wasn’t.”
“We’ll have t’ wait and see.” He walked away.
She didn’t like withholding information from the police. It made her uncomfortable. But if she was going to find out anything at all about who was perpetrating the Loch Ness hoax, she’d best keep her secrets a secret. If word got around—and it would in a place like this—that Kris was some kind of spy for an American agent, there was no telling what would happen.
* * *
Liam watched from the forest as Kris made her way to Loch Side Cottage
“He’s here.” Alan Mac strode into the cool, mellow darkness of the trees. “He was talking to her.”
“There are a lot of hes about right now. Ye’ll have t’ be more specific.”
“Mandenauer.”
Liam tensed, then narrowed his gaze on the crowd. “I dinnae see him.”
“Gone now. But he could still be in Drumnadrochit.”
“What did he tell her?”
Alan Mac shrugged. “Didnae seem like much, but with him ye never know.”
Liam relaxed just a little. “He’ll no doubt visit now and again until the day that he dies, and he often talks to people. He often does much more than talk. ’Tis nothing new.”
“These killings are.”
“Ye think Edward Mandenauer is drowning young girls? He’s in lovely shape for an old, old man, but I doubt he’s capable of that.”
Alan didn’t answer but continued to stare at Liam until Liam sighed and met his eyes. “Ye think it was me?”
“Was it?”
“I havenae drowned a maiden in years,” Liam said dryly.
Alan Mac snorted. “Like ye’d tell me if ye had.”
The two of them pondered the crowds, the lights, the tarp-covered body at the edge of the loch.
“We aren’t going to be able to keep this quiet anymore,” Alan Mac murmured.
Liam didn’t answer. He hadn’t thought they’d be able to keep it quiet this long.
* * *
Kris returned to the cottage, hoping she could fall into bed and straight into sleep. Instead, as soon as she closed her eyes, she saw the face of a nameless dead girl.
Still, Kris tossed and she turned and she tried for quite a while, but eventually she sat up and turned on the light. Where was her book?
Kris padded into the living area, where her copy of Supernatural Secrets —always a good place to ferret out her next hoax—lay on the couch. She leaned over to pick it up, glancing through the window as she straightened.
Someone stood near the water.
Her heart leaped. The murderer perhaps? How long until he headed for the cottage? Kris wished Edward had handed over one of his guns along with his money.
As if she’d know what to do with a gun if she had one. Though how hard could it be? Long end pointed toward what you wanted to shoot and then—
“Bang,” she murmured, still staring at the figure near the loch.
The moon shone down like the beam of an alien spacecraft. If she were fanciful she’d expect him to drift upward, captured forever and gone.
Instead, he bathed in the light, as if the moon were water and he was parched. The sheen sparkled in his hair like dew, and suddenly she realized who it was.
Despite the chill and
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