Into The Lake: A gripping psychological thriller Read online

  Into The Lake

  LK Chapman

  Copyright © 2021 LK Chapman

  Cover design by Books Covered

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission of the copyright owner – except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The characters, events and locations in Into The Lake are fictitious and any similarity to real people, events or locations is not intended by the author.

  This book is also available as a paperback.

  ISBN: 9781838264444.

  Table of Contents

  Natalie

  1

  2

  Josh

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  Natalie

  8

  9

  The day of Mikayla’s death

  Josh

  10

  11

  Two years before Mikayla’s death

  12

  Natalie

  13

  14

  Two years before Mikayla’s death

  Josh

  15

  Natalie

  16

  Josh

  17

  Six months before Mikayla’s death

  Gareth

  18

  Josh

  19

  Two months before Mikayla’s death

  Gareth

  20

  21

  Natalie

  22

  23

  24

  25

  Two months before Mikayla’s death

  Josh

  26

  Natalie

  27

  Josh

  28

  29

  At the lake

  30

  31

  32

  Natalie

  33

  The day of Mikayla’s death

  Josh

  34

  Natalie

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  Josh

  41

  42

  Natalie

  43

  A few days after Mikayla’s death

  Josh

  44

  One week later

  Natalie

  45

  46

  Josh

  47

  Two weeks after Mikayla’s death

  48

  Natalie

  49

  50

  Josh

  51

  Natalie

  52

  53

  54

  55

  56

  57

  58

  59

  60

  61

  Josh

  62

  63

  64

  Seven hours earlier

  Natalie

  65

  Seven hours later

  Josh

  66

  Natalie

  67

  Josh

  68

  69

  Natalie

  The day of Mikayla’s death

  Gareth

  70

  Natalie

  71

  Josh

  72

  Natalie

  Epilogue

  Information about issues covered in Into The Lake

  Other books by LK Chapman

  Acknowledgements

  About the author

  Connect with LK Chapman

  The Stories She Tells

  No Escape Series

  To my husband Ashley and my little son Felix. When life is difficult you keep me smiling.

  Natalie

  1

  February sunlight filtered through the front window of Verity’s Events, illuminating the small wedding and party supplies shop and its treasure trove of sparkling contents, from table decorations and invitations to confetti and artificial flowers. Though the shop was pretty to look at, and many people popped in to admire the objects inside, the real heart of the business lay in planning the weddings and parties. At a round table by the window, Natalie sat and quietly read through the notes from the meeting they’d just had with a bride-to-be. Verity, beside her, tapped the paper. ‘This is my favourite bit,’ she said. ‘A sushi bar at a wedding. That’s one request I haven't had before.’

  Natalie smiled. ‘Sounds fun though.’

  Verity stretched out her arms and then stifled a yawn. As always, the meeting had been long and in depth; Verity had an eye for detail and an incredible skill at drawing out exactly what the clients wanted, even if they didn't quite know themselves. It was fascinating to watch her work, and Natalie hoped that after a couple of years helping her out in the shop, some of her sister-in-law’s skill would have rubbed off on her.

  ‘Valentine’s day soon,’ Verity said, as she pushed her unruly chestnut hair away from her face. ‘Have you got any plans?’ She asked the question casually enough, but her eyes glinted mischievously. She was hoping for a revelation, or at least a piece of juicy gossip. Natalie had nothing to offer. ‘Yoga class, then an early night with a book,’ she said.

  She’d meant the words to come out defiantly – to show she didn’t mind her lack of plans – but they came out sounding hollow. Did she mind? She’d had plenty of experience spending Valentine’s day alone, and it didn’t usually bother her. Anticipating that Verity would start matchmaking, Natalie jumped in first to stop her. ‘What about you and Rob?’ she asked.

  ‘We’ll probably just have a quiet one. Isabelle and Daisy will be at home, and I don’t fancy our chances of finding a babysitter–’

  ‘I’ll look after them,’ Natalie said quickly.

  Verity’s eyes lit up. ‘You wouldn’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not! Spending the evening with my lovely nieces, or a night on my own – there’s no competition.’

  Verity’s face broke into a wide grin. She had the biggest, most infectious smile of anybody Natalie knew, and a dimple appeared in her right cheek, her hazel eyes twinkling. ‘Thank you, Nat. I really appreciate it.’

  Natalie nodded, but her mind had drifted elsewhere. Valentine’s day was the least of her concerns, after the invitation she’d received the day before.

  ‘Now, are you going to tell me what’s been distracting you all day?’ Verity asked. Natalie blinked, startled. Was it that obvious? Verity was leaning forward eagerly, leaving Natalie in no doubt that she wouldn’t let it go without a satisfactory answer.

  ‘I can’t get anything past you, can I?’ she said.

  ‘Nope. And it’s not like you to be so quiet.’

  Before Natalie could answer her, the door opened with a gust of cold air and a young couple came in.

  ‘Verity, you have to help us,’ the bride said, her cheeks pink with emotion. ‘After our meeting with you yesterday, we’ve had so much to think about and we were up until midnight talking about wedding favours. What do people usually do? We want something different, but not too different, and what do we give the kids that are coming? We don’t want hundreds of kids running about on a sugar high, but what else do kids like?’ She paused for a quick breath. ‘Also, what do favours go in?’ she continued. ‘I like the idea of having little organza bags tied up with some nice ribbon, but he–’ she nudged her fiancé ‘–says that they would look naff.’ Abruptly she ran out of steam, and
looked at them both helplessly.

  Quickly getting to her feet, Natalie helped Verity take control of the situation and before long they became embroiled in a lengthy discussion about favours and table decorations. It wasn’t until the end of the day, as they closed up the shop, that Natalie found a chance to speak to Verity again.

  ‘I got an invite to a school reunion,’ she said, showing her the message on her phone. ‘It’s nothing too formal, just a Saturday afternoon in August, so people can bring their families.’

  ‘I’m waiting for the but,’ Verity said.

  ‘Well, it’s one thing just going to a party,’ Natalie said. ‘I rarely turn down a chance to do that. But a party where everyone knew you as a teenager? I didn’t even think people had school reunions nowadays – I’ve never heard of anyone else going to one. It’s not even a proper anniversary of when we graduated or anything.’

  ‘Who’s organising it?’

  ‘They’ve set up a website for the event,’ Natalie said. ‘It says a bit more about it on there. There were these four girls – I used to hang out with them a bit – they were good friends and all got together recently, like a little mini reunion. They started wondering how everyone else was getting on, and, well, here we are.’

  ‘I’ve never known you to be worried about a party.’

  Natalie read the invitation again. Verity was right, of course, she would normally be in her element. And there was nothing particularly threatening about the event itself – a big marquee in a country park on the edge of town, plenty of space for children to play, barbecue food, lawn games, and a chance to see some old photos and reminisce. What was there not to like? Yet she was filled with unease about the whole thing, and the reason was, quite literally, written all over her face.

  Verity touched her arm gently. ‘Is this about the accident?’ she asked. ‘About your injuries?’

  Natalie looked round at her sister-in-law, who was watching her sympathetically. ‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘but it’s more than that. It’s about having to go through it all; all the ways my life had to change, about having to give up a job I loved. They’re people who used to know me. I know it's not as if they’ll have been avidly following my career, but there can't be a single person in my year who didn’t hear about me being spotted by that scout, so they must all know there was a chance I would be a model. Strangers don’t know that. It’s uncomfortable enough when strangers stare at me, but people I went to school with? People who will wonder what happened to me, and whether I can still do modelling looking the way I do. Even if they don’t come straight out and ask me, they’re all going to start whispering about me, stealing glances when they think I’m not looking. I want to go, but I’m not sure I can face explaining it to every single person I speak to.’

  ‘You don’t owe anyone an explanation.’

  ‘But they’ll be curious. People get curious about scars; they can’t help it. And what do you go to a reunion for, other than to find out what happened to everybody?’

  Verity nodded slowly. ‘You know, I bet everyone who’s been invited feels a bit weird about it, and can’t make up their minds whether to go. I’m sure it’s not only you.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘Yes, I do. Nearly everyone has something they find difficult to talk about, whether it’s visible or invisible.’

  ‘It’s not that I can’t bear to talk about it–’

  ‘Well, I know that,’ Verity said. ‘You talk to thousands of people every week.’

  ‘That’s not the same.’

  ‘I think it’s amazing how many people subscribe to watch your videos. You’re an inspiration.’

  Natalie avoided Verity’s eyes. She didn’t feel entirely comfortable being called an inspiration. She was just doing the best she could with the hand that had been dealt to her. The fact that so many people enjoyed her fashion and party planning vlog had come as something of a surprise to her, but a welcome one. It had been easier in the early days to show her face online than to go out in public. That way she could talk about things she enjoyed, and know that people would hear her words, but she didn’t have to watch their eyes drift to her scars. Sometimes in her videos she would talk about what had happened to her, how she felt about it. Other times she’d get sidetracked with stories of modelling jobs, which usually ended up quite amusing. Mostly it was a way of just expressing herself and letting people in to her world, a world that strangers apparently found interesting.

  Verity was still looking at her, her eyes full of questions. Natalie lifted her hand to her face, where, partly obscured by a curtain of wavy red hair, a raised whitish-pink line curved down from her temple across her right cheek. Just above the corner of her mouth, a second, smaller scar bisected the first. When she smiled, there was a tight, pulling sensation that she could never get used to. The scars had faded considerably since the car crash, but the doctors had said she would have them for the rest of her life. Everyone assumed she gave up modelling solely because of the scars, but in fact it had as much to do with the back injuries she’d also suffered, which made it uncomfortable to stay in one position for long.

  ‘Nat–’ Verity started to say.

  ‘I’m fortunate, really,’ Natalie said. ‘I came this close to dying–’ she held her thumb and finger close together–’ or being paralysed. I know I can’t change what’s happened. I’ve got past wishing I can change it, and going to sleep thinking that when I wake up maybe I’ll just look the way I used to. I’m okay. I am. But for some reason the idea of this reunion … it’s really thrown me.’

  ‘Come back to ours for dinner,’ Verity said. ‘Talk it over with Rob. And you can see the girls, too. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.’

  2

  Arriving at Verity and Rob’s house, Natalie couldn’t help but smile. The 1930s semi, with an arch above the front door and a generous front garden where clumps of daffodils were sprouting, readying themselves to burst into colour come the spring, was the homeliest place she could imagine. Inside, the warmth of the house wrapped around her, the hall painted sage green, cluttered with children’s shoes, bags and coats, while in the living room off to the right was an area dedicated to Verity’s passion for trying all manner of crafts – from card-making to crochet – which jostled for space alongside Rob’s vast record collection.

  Natalie followed Verity through to the large kitchen, where the smell of cooking filled the air. They found Rob stirring a saucepan while the two curly-haired girls, six-year-old Isabelle and four-year-old Daisy, were in the early stages of what looked set to be a full-blown fight over a doll. ‘Auntie Nitty!’ the two girls cried out, and, distracted from their squabble, they ran over to her. Natalie couldn’t quite remember how she’d ended up with that nickname, but she didn’t mind. In fact she quite liked it.

  ‘What are you cooking?’ she asked her brother after extricating herself from her nieces’ arms.

  ‘Chicken and tomato pasta bake,’ he said. ‘I’ve only just started. Are you staying for tea? I can whip up a veggie version for you.’

  ‘Thank you, yes please.’ She walked over to him, and he gave her a brief hug. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s not anything urgent. I’ll tell you a bit later.’

  ***

  Once Isabelle and Daisy had gone to bed, they moved from the kitchen table into the living room, where Natalie sank gratefully into the soft sofa cushions with a glass of red wine. Verity sat beside her, while Rob settled himself on the armchair near the fireplace. The contradictions about Rob always made her smile; he was an accountant, and his approach to many things was careful, methodical and with great attention to detail, yet his shoulder-length blonde hair, loud shirts, and penchant for rock music – both listening to it and playing it – made a refreshing contrast.

  ‘Natalie offered to look after the girls on Valentine’s day,’ Verity said to him.

  Natalie waved away his thanks. ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ she said. ‘But I
came to talk to you about something else.’ She quickly outlined her dilemma about the school reunion, while Rob listened carefully.

  ‘Personally, I wouldn’t go,’ he said. ‘Why bother with the hassle? People only go to things like that to show off. Either that, or because they’re nosy.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Verity said. ‘They just want to catch up with old friends. And anyway, there’s nothing wrong with being curious. I would go, if I was invited to a reunion.’

  Rob was drumming his fingers on his leg – not out of frustration or impatience – it was a habit he’d had as long as Natalie could remember, like he was continuously hearing different melodies inside his head. Sometimes she wondered if all of her brother’s thoughts were set to music.

  ‘I feel like I’m going to have to keep explaining myself,’ she said.

  ‘Just say you don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Well, there’s not much point in going if I’m not going to open up to anyone.’

  ‘Perhaps you should ask yourself what’s the worst thing that can happen?’ Verity suggested.

  ‘That I have to explain about the car crash to about a hundred separate people in the space of a few hours,’ Natalie said.

  Verity shook her head. ‘When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound great. But on the up side, maybe you’ll enjoy meeting, or re-meeting – if that’s a word – some of them. Or at least have a laugh reminiscing. It’s not like anyone is going to be outright nasty, is it? And it’s not even far to travel. I know Eashling Park, it’s just twenty minutes down the road.’

  Natalie took a large mouthful of wine. ‘Maybe I’ll offer to help with the organising. If the questions get too much on the day, I can always make an excuse that I need to go and sort something out.’ Suddenly, her resolve strengthened. What was there to worry about? Nothing could be worse than when she’d woken up in hospital after the crash, when she was told about the injuries to her face and her back, and she’d felt more terrified and alone than she ever had in her life. When they’d eventually handed her a mirror, it had been almost impossible to believe that she was really looking at her own face. If she could get through that, she could get through a reunion, couldn’t she? Her life might be different to what it used to be, but it was good. She enjoyed it. If anyone asked, that was what she would say. The scars were part of her history, the narrative of her life. Her own feelings about them still varied, and her emotions weren’t always easy to sit with, but she wasn’t going to let fear hold her back. Yes, she was scared, but she would go. Perhaps something good would come out of it, even if it was nothing more than a few hours of fun. If she didn’t go, she’d never find out.