Page 91 of The Souls of Lost Lake

“I thought dragging a lake meant sweeping a net across the bottom or something,” Wren said.

Troy offered a sad chuckle. “If only it were that simple.”

“Do you think they’ll find the bodies of the long-lost Coons family?” It was easier to focus on the lore of the place than picture little Jasmine sinking to the depths of the lake all alone. Innocent. Wren shivered.

Troy shook his head. “Ninety-year-old skeletons can only survive so long underwater.”

“I thought it took bones forever to decompose.” Wren shuddered at the gory topic.

Troy nodded. “Well, yeah, but think about it. Almost a century underwater? You might have a mandible left.”

Wren waved her hand. “Stop, okay? No more.”

Troy leaned toward her. “You all right—?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped. Then she quickly met his hurt eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s all so much, Troy. I don’t know...”

“Why’d you even come out here? It’s going to be hours, maybe even days. This isn’t a place for you to find any sort of resolution to Jasmine’s disappearance.”

“I know that.” She ran her hand over her forehead, wiping beads of sweat from it, then drying her hand on the side of her navy-blue trekking pants. “I just...” Wren searched for the words. She just what? Creepy woman in the woods had her convinced Ava Coons really did still exist somehow? Jasmine’s disappearance was linked to the Redneck Harriet doll with Wren’s name on her foot?

“I think I may be losing my mind,” she muttered.

Troy rubbed his hand on her arm. Wren stepped away. He dropped it, directed his eyes to the ground, and kicked at a rock. “You’re not losing your mind.” His affirmation seemed weak considering he didn’t know the concoction of a story swirling in her head.

“Do you know where your birth certificate is?” Wren asked suddenly.

Troy gave her a confused look at the abrupt subject change. “Um, sure. Yeah. I have it in my files at home.”

“Home as in...?”

“As in Iowa. Where I was born. My parents’ place. I wouldn’t bring those types of records here to camp.”

“But you’ve seen it?”

“Sure. Haven’t you seen yours?”

“No.” Wren met his questioning stare. “No, I haven’t.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yeah. My dad seems to think my mom accidentally damaged it and needed to get a replacement. Pippin ran a search online and tried to reorder it. The state came back saying there’s no record of my birth.”

This time Troy’s expression darkened. “No record?”

Someone on the lake shouted. They both redirected their attention for a moment, then realized it was routine and nothing had been spotted. Wren turned back to Troy.

“None. That’s weird, right? I mean, I’m not overreacting by thinking it’s really odd.”

“Did you call your grandparents?” Troy asked.

Wren hadn’t thought of that. Mom’s parents lived in Oklahoma, but they might be able to shed some light on her birth. Maybe she hadn’t been born in Wisconsin like she’d thought. But then she would have thought her dad would’ve said something right away to clear up that misunderstanding.

“Diver!” someone shouted.

They both stilled.

With Troy as a backup diver, he would not be first in the water. They watched as a few men and women scurried along the shoreline. A diver flipped backward into the water from another inflatable boat. In the distance, a loon popped up from under the surface of the water, saw the group of searchers, then disappeared backunder. Wren imagined the waterfowl speeding along underwater, well acquainted with the lake bed, having already seen long before whatever it was the dive team was going down to identify.