Lake of Sorrows

“She was always trying to get him to come out here—making up odd jobs for him to do,” said Trish Walpole. “She was very sweet to his face, but behind his back she called him Charlie Goggles. There was something strange going on between them. A couple of days ago I saw her come in here, and a few minutes later Charlie came out, looking like somebody had given him a right hiding.”

“You said Ursula had separate digs from your own. But all the rest of you lodge at the same place?”

“Yes, we have a house about a half-mile around the bend past Ursula’s place, on the Cloghan road,” said the last young man, Tom Galligan.

“Five of you in the house?”

Gardner said, “Six, actually. One of our crew is missing today—Rachel Briscoe.”

The girl who’d found Danny Brazil’s body. Ward remembered talking with her. She had answered his questions that day, but had barely made eye contact.

“I knocked on her door this morning, but there was no answer, so I stuck my head in. She was still asleep. Had the duvet pulled up over her head.”

“But you didn’t go in, didn’t speak to her?”

“By that time the minibus driver was already waiting, and we didn’t have time to hang around. She just overslept. It’s not the first time.” His tone suggested that Rachel was a constant thorn in their collective side.

Sarah Cummins said quietly, “I went in. The bed was arranged to make it look as if somebody was in it, but Rachel wasn’t there.”

A cascade of guilty looks traveled through the group. Sullivan said, “Look, we all knew she went out nearly every night. Thought we didn’t take any notice, I suppose. She was always back by morning.”

“Any idea where she was going?” Ward asked. “To meet someone, perhaps?”

Sarah Cummins bristled defensively. “We don’t know where she went. How could we?”

“I do,” Gardner said. “I was coming back from the pub one night, and I saw her on the hill right behind Ursula’s place.”

“Anyone else ever see her there?” Ward asked. The uncomfortable looks and a couple of nodding heads told him that they had, but like Sarah Cummins, they didn’t like to jump to conclusions. “Do you have any reason to believe she was somehow involved with Ursula?”

“More like obsessed,” Gardner said. “I’m sure she thought we didn’t notice, but you could see her staring at Ursula when she thought no one was around. Watching her like a cat when we were on tea break. It was weird.” Ward looked around at the other crew members. No one jumped in to agree, but none of them protested either.

Ward reached into his coat pocket and brought out the bag containing the binoculars found at the crime scene. “Have any of you seen these before?”

Sarah Cummins said quietly, “They’re Rachel’s. She always had them with her. She’d go berserk if anyone borrowed them, even for a second.”

When he’d finished questioning the archaeology crew, Ward excused them. He handed out his cards as they filed out of the office, and asked them to ring him personally if they remembered anything else, no matter how seemingly insignificant. Sarah Cummins lingered behind the others, and Ward waited until they were alone before he spoke. “Was there something else you wanted to tell me?”

“They’re all seeing what they wanted to see. There’s something bothering Rachel; she’s acting strangely, and I don’t think she’s been thinking straight since she arrived here. I know the signs.” Sarah pinched the ends of her coat sleeves as she spoke, balling her hands up in knots. “I walked in on her once in the bathroom at the house. I didn’t know she was in there; the door wasn’t locked. She was sitting on the edge of the tub, staring at a knife in the sink.” The girl swallowed hard. “I know what she was thinking about, what she was going to do.” She took a deep breath, and pushed up one of her sleeves, showing several whitened lines where the skin had once been cut. “It’s not about killing yourself, or even about the blood; it’s about the pain—about feeling something, anything. And about taking control again. I don’t do it anymore.”

“Do you think Rachel could have hurt anyone else?”

The girl’s anxious eyes held him. “I don’t know. I should have said something before now.”

“You can’t blame yourself for anything that’s happened. I mean that. It’s not your fault, Sarah. Have you got someone you can call—someone to talk to?”

The girl nodded and looked away. “My sister.”