Log In
Or create an account ->
Imperial Library
Home
About
News
Upload
Forum
Help
Login/SignUp
Index
CHAPTER 1 Bob Ferguson felt the familiar pull of the 8-pound test line against his left index finger. It was a strong, steady tug; a classic example of largemouth bass. It was his first cast of the early morning, and the crawler harness had only been in the water for a single minute before the bite. With a complete grip of the handle, he jerked the pole up at a forty-five-degree angle. Not too gently, or else he wouldn’t place the hooks. Not too hard either, or else he’d yank the harness right out of the trophy’s mouth. It was just right. The line suddenly tightened, and the pole bent into a curve. The fight was on. Bob stood up at the center of his twelve-foot rowboat, hanging on tight as the bass went for a deep dive. It was a feisty one, and it had no intention of coming quietly. He didn’t reel in. That would simply create extra tension on the line and possibly snap it. The goal was to let the fish wear itself out. After about a minute of continuous tugging, the exhausted bass q
CHAPTER 2 Sunrise in middle Michigan usually came around six in the morning during the month of July. For the small town of Rodney, it happened at precisely 5:59 a.m. It was around this time that the initial early morning traffic would commence, typical for a Wednesday morning. Rodney was a small, hexagonal-shaped area of 28.3 square miles and a population of 19,879 residents. Named after Rodney Earl, believed to be one of the greatest bass fishermen ever, Rodney was most famous for the large lake that rested dead center its map. Shaped like a capital “T”, Ridgeway Lake was one of the larger regular lakes in Michigan. With the vertical stem of the “T” slanted slightly toward the west, the lake was three miles long, and two-point-three miles wide at the upper cross. The lake contained fish such as largemouth bass, walleye, pike, crappie, bullhead, perch, bluegill, and other panfish. The northern segments of Rodney were composed mainly of residential communities, while the western si
CHAPTER 3 It was after 11:00 a.m. when Sydney parked the white and blue emblazoned Chevy Tahoe in the lot of Readfield Hospital. The meeting with Mayor Greene felt like a grand waste of time, most of which was spent going over the same topics as usual. He wanted to know crime stats in the town, as if he still believed it was an issue even though nothing significant had occurred since the foundation of the police force. Sydney knew Mayor Greene was a good honest man, but very naïve when it came to law enforcement. He insistently brought up the complaints from residents regarding the rumblings coming from Corey Mine, only to act surprised when Sydney informed him there was nothing that could be done about that. Then Greene brought up the topic of additional police training, which would take place at the County Sheriff’s Department. No doubt this was an idea of Sheriff Logan, who clearly resented the fact that Rodney developed its own police force. From their meetings earlier in the y
CHAPTER 4 Birchwood Lodge rested near a beach, simply named Birchwood Beach where the lake curved westward. The beach stuck out into the water like a huge arrow, with water to the north, east, and south, making it a prime area for swimmers. There were two docking areas for boats, one for privately owned and another for those rented out by the lodge. The lodge was a large building, all ground level where people checked in for their reservations. The building included a bar and restaurant, small general shopping area, a separate bait and tackle shop, a gaming room, and a fish cleaning station. The west side of the lake had dozens of cabins spread out, allowing for privacy for the tenants. Noon was the start of the really busy hours near the property beaches. Visitors and residents went out to swim or simply relax on the beach, while others went out on the lake to fish. The early birds who fished in the morning often came in around this time as well. Joel Pobursky stood behind his cou
CHAPTER 5 “He’s still not answering his damn phone,” Susan Jean complained, slipping her iPhone into the back pocket of her jean shorts. She sat on the top of a picnic table, looking down toward the beach at her college friend Robert Nash. Dressed in swim trunks and a white T-shirt, the thirty-two-year-old Navy veteran stretched his arms toward the sky, then down to his toes. It was a common routine for him to warm up his muscles before completing a big swim. They had already jogged over a mile to get to this little beach, but Robert liked to be as prepared as possible. “Perhaps he’s flirting with his neighbor,” he said, bringing his hands to his hips, then to his knees. As he stretched back upward, he briefly waved his hand in front of his face to keep a mosquito from landing in his ginger goatee. “He let it slip that he had the hots for her.” “His neighbor?” Susan said with a laugh. “Isn’t she like twenty years older than him?” Robert completed another couple rounds of stretching
CHAPTER 6 The time was 9:23 p.m. as Morgan Sydney stared up at the ceiling in his bedroom. He was tired but unable to fall asleep. The pain in his leg throbbed, and the fact that his mind dwelled on it only made it worse. His eyes consistently went to his window. Sunset had occurred about twenty minutes ago, typical for this time of year. He felt himself grow frustrated and actually longing for his Meperidine pills. He hated them, but at least the drowsiness side effect came in handy for nights like these. The thought of the medicine brought his ex-wife to mind again. And each thought of her seemed to worsen his leg pain. It brought back memories he regretted, and the torture of reminiscing the things he would’ve done differently. His cell phone rang, breaking his train of thought. It was resting on his dresser, which was right next to his bed. He reached over, accidentally knocking it off the floor. “Goddamnit,” he cursed. He fumbled for the phone and finally answered it. “Chief S
CHAPTER 7 The distant glow of emergency lights across the lake reflected off the yellow taxi’s windshield as it pulled into the large driveway of a lake house. For the husky forty-year-old driver, it provided a nice distraction from the impassioned spectacle in his rearview mirror. He put the taxi in park, and awkwardly glanced back. The man and woman grabbed at each other vigorously. Hands were all over each other as they each dug their tongue deeper into the other’s mouth. “Ah-hem,” the driver uncomfortably cleared his throat in an attempt to get their attention. “We have arrived. That’ll be $22.30.” The man in the back, dressed in blue jeans and a navy blue shirt, reached toward him with cash in hand. “Keep it,” he said, hardly severing contact from the brunette’s face. The driver unfolded the cash, revealing two twenties. The generous tip certainly brightened his mood. He looked up from the money to see that the dark-haired male exited out the passenger side, pulling the well-e
CHAPTER 8 Sydney walked like a zombie from his office to the lobby, straight for the coffee pot. It was nearly empty, down to its last measurement. He filled his cup with what remained and started a fresh pot. After adding two scoops of sugar to it, he limped back to his office and shut his door behind him. Leaning back in his chair, he fought against droopy eyes. The time was 8:43 a.m., and he was already on his third cup. He had been up most of the night assisting his staff in the search for any possible victims. Around 3:30 a.m., he returned home to catch a quick snooze while the midnight staff continued searching. He returned by 6:00 a.m. in time to meet the divers sent in by the state police. With no current in the lake, any bodies in the surrounding area should have been relatively easy to locate. But after two hours of looking and moving further out, there was nothing. Not a trace. Most of the staff in the department was convinced it was a wild goose chase. Sydney, however,
CHAPTER 9 “YEEEAAAHHH GIRL! WORK THAT POLE!” Mike Wilkow shouted with his fist raised victoriously in the air. His shouts were followed by cheers from the twenty people gathered around them, most of whom were in their twenties. Standing near Wilkow in the center of the group was a twenty-year-old female student, dressed in cut-off jean shorts and a blue tank top, tugging on a fishing pole as she fought against the struggles of a largemouth bass. “You see that, everybody?” Wilkow turned to the group. “See how it hit while she was bringing the spinner in?” A couple of the students nodded yes, but most were fixated on the attractive female reeling in the bass. She pulled the pole back and quickly reeled in the slack, then held it firm as the fish attempted to run. “Don’t reel yet. Let it wear itself out,” Wilkow said to her. “I know how to do this, Doc,” she said. “You most certainly do!” he said, triumphantly. After a few moments, the fish turned in a more favorable direction, allowi
CHAPTER 10 “That’ll be twenty-four fifty,” the scrawny taxi driver said to his customer. Jimmie Stanton handed him a company VISA card, labeled CAMPIONE on the top. After the transaction was completed, Stanton stepped out of the back seat. The taxi backed out of the driveway. Stanton started walking toward up the small hill to the porch steps, with his grey suit jacket hung over one arm. The sight of his lakeview home was gratifying after being gone for a week. Being a vice president for an Italian food distributor known as Campione Foods, he often had to travel to locations across the country for inspections. It was a rewarding career where his hard work paid off with him moving up in the company. As he climbed the ladder, his bank account inflated along with his midsection…a result of corporate lunches. This recent trip was to inspect a restaurant in Louisiana. There, he spent six days and seven nights tasting foods and inspecting conditions of the warehouses. After returning fro
CHAPTER 11 “…So yeah, ever since then he’s been obsessed with his ridiculous theories,” Dr. Nevers said to Sydney and Meya, explaining Dr. Wilkow. He led them through the building’s main lobby to the exit. “Once again, I apologize for that display.” “Oh, don’t worry about it,” Meya said. She and Sydney took turns shaking hands with the Dean. “Thanks again for your help.” “Yes, thank you,” Sydney said. “Not a problem,” Nevers said. Sydney and Meya left through the front doors and returned to his Jeep. They buckled in and Sydney started driving off campus. “So that was the great biologist they have?” he said, steering onto the main road. “I never said he was great,” Meya said. “Nevers just told me there was a biology professor working there. I didn’t know he was some sports star wannabe.” “He’s something,” Sydney remarked. After a couple minutes, they came to a stop at a red light. While they waited, a loud thundering bang echoed from the south. The ground briefly shook beneath them
CHAPTER 12 With his back pressed against the wall, Dr. Wilkow repeatedly glanced at his watch. 3:02. Any moment now, Dr. Nevers was due to leave for the day. Wilkow grew impatient as he waited. He peeked around the vending machines he stood behind, listening for the sound of the office door. Dr. Nevers was very strict on use of the laboratory specimens, even for college professors. The only way for Wilkow to get a good look at the scale would be to wait for Nevers to leave. A closer look at the samples he obtained revealed the specimen to be composed of keratin, with a layer of cosmine beneath it. The sample of the inner surface revealed lamellar bone, reminiscent of fish scales. Everything pointed toward to evidence concerning his theory of a subspecies of freshwater fish. The answer was possibly stored in a glass container inside that lab. He strategically leaned against the wall, biding his time. A student walked by, confusedly looking at the bizarre sight of the college profess
CHAPTER 13 “Yes, yes, I understand that,” Sydney said into his phone. He struggled to keep his voice down as he paced in the hallway. He listened to the angry chatter from the president of Campione Foods, who confirmed Jimmie Stanton’s alibi. With an exasperated sigh, he held the phone down by his leg, still able to hear the echoes from the president yelling about how he’s such a dick for even suspecting Stanton. Once the chatter subsided, Sydney returned the phone to his ear, just at the president ended his rant with “…you cops.” Sydney had no interest in knowing what came before that. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I appreciate your help. Have a good day.” He hung up the phone as another rant was starting. The only good thing from the conversation was that he now was able to rule out Jimmie Stanton as a murder suspect. However, the question still remained of where the other guy was. The next step was to find out exactly how Amanda Stanton died. Sydney went into a small observation r
CHAPTER 14 “Here we go…” Dave Culverhouse gritted his teeth as he held his aching pole taut. The twelve-foot johnboat quivered in the water as he fought to bring in a northern pike, which tugged viciously at the spinner. It was strong and desperate, and not showing any signs of tiring out. He could feel the sweat rolling off his face, soaking his red beard. Though the cove was well shaded, the heat was still prominent, and it was worsened by the physical effort he exerted. Anchored about five yards away, DeAnna Scott and Jeremy Rogers watched intently. The couple spouted a mix of cheers and guidance as Dave fought his perceived trophy, while also betting with each other on whether he’d bring it in. The line started to ease up, and Dave felt an opportunity arise. He pulled up on the line and began reeling in. At the exact moment he pulled upward, the fish suddenly made another strong dive. The pole arched to a near ninety-degree angle, and then suddenly shot back up to its normal fo
CHAPTER 15 Dr. Wilkow sat in his office, keeping an eye on the office pod window just outside. He pretended to be working on grades on his computer while waiting for the last lab tech to leave. They usually passed by the faculty office pod on their way out, and his office was close enough to the small lobby where he could barely see out the window. He tapped a few things on his computer while waiting, studying the map and shape of Ridgeway Lake. He noted the locations of the reported incidents, which appeared to take place at the mid-point in the vertical portion of the lake. He made a plan to go out the next day. Another tab on his computer had the Birchwood Lodge website on it. He searched through the site’s shopping section, hoping they sold bathymetry charts. “Bingo,” he said to himself after determining they had one. He started to devise a plan, which would begin with purchasing the chart while renting a boat from the lodge. He’d check the deepest points near the recorded inc
CHAPTER 16 The beginnings of dusk cast a shadow over Chief Sydney while he leaned up against his Jeep and watched the County Sheriff deputies guiding a contractor’s boat as it hauled the sunken rowboat from the cove. Although Sydney had arrived at the scene hours earlier after hearing the gunshots, late 911 calls had continued to come in. Sheriff Logan was notified and wasted no time coming out to Rodney yet again. He arrived and took charge of the scene, ignoring all of Sydney’s advice and statements, including a warning about a fallen submerged tree. Consequently, the towing line and the boat itself got snagged on several occasions. Seeing the know-it-alls scramble to undo their mess brought minor amusement to the chief. All of the RPD officers on scene stood by as Logan demonstrated his superiority. EMS also arrived, growing impatient as the sheriff’s divers failed to retrieve any bodies. David Culverhouse gave a statement to the deputies, but was still taken into custody as a p
CHAPTER 17 Tim Marlow stayed on the boat console, keeping his coffee mug steady as Officer Larabee stood on starboard deck, arguing with the vacationer in the rowboat. The boats flashing red and blue lights irritated his drowsy eyes, which wanted to clamp shut for sleep. Tim quickly regretted picking up the call for midnight shift, and he still had his regular day shift to go. With it only being 1:13 in the morning, he had a long ways to go. “I’m sorry, sir, but nobody can be on the lake right now,” Larabee said. It was the third time in a row he informed the angry vacationer of this. For Larabee, who was already irritated at being mandated to work overtime, his patience was wearing thin. “This is bullshit!” the angler roared. “I spent over a grand for this trip, and I’m only here for four nights!” “I apologize again, but this is an order straight from the chief; the lake has to be vacated,” Larabee explained. “I promise we’ll have the situation under control very soon, and you’ll
CHAPTER 18 Sydney resisted the urge to hit the snooze on his alarm clock. He had stayed out until after midnight to assist with keeping people off the lake. Speaking with Mr. Tindell, the owner of Birchwood Lodge, was the worst. Mr. Tindell did not take kindly to informing his customers that they couldn’t go fishing or swimming. He came in to the station before going home, and dispatch was overwhelmed with calls regarding the order. People were aware of the police investigations, and a rumor of a possible lake-killer was starting to spread. Sydney felt like a fragile old man as he got out of bed. As he sat up and stretched, his hip and shoulder simultaneously popped. At this age, his joints did this often, making him sound like a human walnut cracker each morning. To make matters worse, the little sleep he got wasn’t quality sleep. His mind was fixated on the investigations, particularly the death of Amanda Stanton. There were no leads for him to go on, and he knew Sheriff Logan wa
CHAPTER 19 “Is there pressure up around the eyes?” Meya asked. Her patient, a twenty-five-year-old male with a red face and droopy eyes, nodded while sitting on the exam table. She jotted down notes on a sheet in her clipboard. “Mucinex isn’t working at home?” “Nothing’s been helping with this,” the patient said. His voice sounded as drained as he appeared. He turned and blew his nose into a tissue. Meya pulled out her prescription pad. “Needless to say, you have a sinus infection,” she said. “I’m gonna write you a prescription for Amoxicillin. Take one pill three times a day.” She scribbled her signature and tore off the sheet. “You’re all set to go.” “Thank you,” the patient said. He took the prescription and left. Meya stayed behind and jotted a few more notes before calling for the next patient. Life seemed to have gone back to normal. Rather, her new normal: a near stress-free environment in which each case was a generic one. She grabbed the file for the next person, and picke
CHAPTER 20 Activity at Readfield Hospital went from quiet to near chaotic. After the attack in Ridgeway Lake, many people rushed to the ER. Every available paramedic unit was dispatched to the resort area, while outside departments were notified for assistance. In addition to the ambulances on route to the hospital, several people transported themselves to the ER seeking treatment for injuries. The tourists had become their own worst enemy in fleeing the beaches. During the mass panic, people trampled over each other, fought over floatation devices, looted belongings, and worse. Nurses were overburdened with the rapid influx of patients. To make matters worse, people arrived with minor injuries such as small cuts or bumps and bruises. But each person had to be evaluated, and it made it harder for the staff to make way for the more critical patients. There were two ER doctors on duty, and they too were quickly overwhelmed. And the most critical patients hadn’t even arrived yet. At t
CHAPTER 21 Sydney slammed the door behind him and went straight into the bedroom. His uniform felt as if it was peeling off his body as he stripped. After throwing on some jeans and a black T-shirt, he limped to the refrigerator. He snatched a beer, intended to be the first of many, and tore the tab off. Bottoms up. He had spent the past two hours with Mr. and Mrs. Marlow in their residence. He gave the typical speech of how their son served with distinction, and how he’d be missed. Informing a mother of her son’s death was almost as bad as seeing Marlow killed. What made it worse was when they asked if they could see him. Sydney choked on his own words as he figured out the most respectable way to explain their son was eaten alive. Sydney stayed with them to offer comfort. Other loved ones were notified, and people started arriving at their house. Sydney found himself answering the same questions over and over. Each time, he had to relive the horrific experience. Some people were
CHAPTER 22 The air cooled as night set in over the town. Sheriff Logan gripped the rail as he stared out into the water. His patrol unit patrolled the east side of the lake, escorting another vessel that chummed several yards ahead of them. The fog had thickened, which created limited visibility. Their boats switched on their spotlights, but they did not improve range of sight. Along with the night came the bugs. Mosquitoes and flies started buzzing about. Every few seconds, Logan slapped something that landed on his neck. He removed his cap and thrashed it in the air around his head. For a moment, it seemed like the bugs had vacated, but they quickly returned. For the past two hours, hardly anybody had spoken. There was no sound other than the thrum of the many boats’ motors, and the nightly sounds of nature. Logan listened to the frogs croaking and the random splashing of fish and birds in the water as they snatched up hovering bugs. The other deputy stood at the cockpit, growing
CHAPTER 23 Sydney awoke in bed to the sight of sunlight streaming through the open bedroom window. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he had slept through the entire night without getting up due to his leg pain. Feeling pleasantly rested, he laid on his back and enjoyed the morning breeze coming in. He felt Meya’s hand planted on his chest. He looked over at her. She lay bare under the covers beside him and returned his gaze, having just woken up as well. It was a pleasant moment of relaxation and satisfaction that neither had felt in many years. “You snore,” Sydney said. “You talk in your sleep,” Meya replied. They both smiled and continued resting for a bit longer. Finally, Sydney looked at the clock near his bed. It was 10:12 a.m. Damn! He could not remember the last time he slept in so late. He and Meya did not stay out very late either. He didn’t care, however. In fact, he felt happier than in a long time. His leg throbbed a bit, but not nearly as bad as it normal
CHAPTER 24 The radio roared classic country music while Dr. Wilkow cast his line into the pond. The song on air was referring to it being a great day to be alive; a sentiment Wilkow was feeling. Dr. Nevers was not at the University today, so Wilkow was spared the likely endless verbal assault regarding stealing college finances and equipment. The dean’s absence allowed Wilkow to review the footage recorded on his laptop, and update his thesis. With the news of a giant new species of fish being in the lake, scientists from all over were undoubtedly on their way to Rodney. Some had already arrived in town, but with the lake off limits, they were unable to conduct any research. This meant Wilkow was the only one with any data collected. That, plus the new evidence supporting his theory, meant that he was going to be in high demand for any research facility intent on studying the creature. “Yeah, baby!” he yelled excitedly as he hooked a fish. ******** Meya rode shotgun in Sydney’s
CHAPTER 25 Located in the southwest edge of Rodney, a small bar called Ringside was seeing normal business. It was known as a cheap bar, as that was what was mostly served. While high-class whiskey was on the menu, it was hardly ever in stock. The only thing keeping the place afloat was the usual crowd, who saw the bar as a good hangout more than anything else. It served mainly a redneck crowd, as that was the type to reside there. The usual patrons were mostly hunters, dockworkers, bikers, and some freeloaders who relied on their buddies. Inside were twenty circular tables, eighteen of which were occupied by mainly bearded patrons, and a cheap wooden bar counter. The owner, who was also working as the bartender, wiped down glasses and silverware in a nearby sink. It allowed him to act as if he was busy. In reality, there weren’t many dishes to clean. Most of his customers drank from the bottle. Dave Culverhouse sat at the bar counter. He rested his elbow on the scratched counterto
CHAPTER 26 The large crawler crane, yellow in color, rested just a few feet from the manufactured drop-off at Hampton’s Ledge. Joel sat inside the platform and tested the controls. The booms slowly extended outward, to a maximum length of one-hundred-fifty feet. The newly carved hook hung from a cable just over a foot from the tip of the upper sheave. He slowly rotated the winding drum, swinging the boom to the left and right. The motion was slow, but it functioned properly. Some construction crews were hired to dig a small trench for the crane to position within. They packed loads of gravel in front of the tracks in order to help prevent the crane from being pulled into the water. Joel’s worry was that, should he successfully hook the fish, that it would undoubtedly make a run. It would likely swim outward toward the open lake. He didn’t want to risk its sheer force possibly tilting the heavy crane into the water. Sydney approached the crane and gazed at the sharpened hook. A poin
CHAPTER 27 Dave Culverhouse sat in his parked truck, hidden behind a thick wall of trees. Through the brush, he watched the local boat dock, waiting for the two RPD patrol officers to move along. For the past twenty-four hours, the officers kept constant watch over the lake to prevent people from going out on it. The officers moved on foot, and moved dreadfully slow. They stood at the dock, chatting with one another for what seemed like forever. Dave found himself starting to lose patience, until they finally moved out of sight. He looked around for anyone possibly nearby before slowly moving his truck closer to the lake, with his boat in tow. The area was guarded by woods and created a narrow road to the dock. He maneuvered his truck to back the boat into the water. Before backing it all the way in, he stopped the truck to check his assortment of weapons. He packed his 500 Mossberg Shotgun, AR-15 6.5 Grendel, and his trusty Smith & Wesson 686 revolver. The sound of a vehicle engin
CHAPTER 28 Sydney and the others all ducked slightly from the downward gust of wind that came down upon them as the chopper passed overhead. Meya clutched the controls and guided the white helicopter over the lake. Hovering roughly seventy-feet over the water, the large white aircraft looked like a massive dragonfly in search of a place to land. Installed underneath the helicopter was a radar detector, designed for short-range sea-surface detection. Linked to a screen in the cockpit, Meya could look for any blips on the screen, which would indicate a large approaching object. The wind gusts from the helicopter’s massive rotating blades turned the formerly smooth water surface into a rippling frenzy. Dangling from the open left door was the metal lure. Smothered in Wilkow’s chum-like mixture, it hung from a cable that clipped to the front of the lure. Meya adjusted her headset after slowing the chopper’s advance. Sydney had connected her radio frequency to that of the law enforcemen
CHAPTER 1
← Prev
Back
Next →
← Prev
Back
Next →