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The Snow Dogs Of Lost Lake
Dorothy Bodoin
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Navigating country roads in an ice storm can be hazardous, especially when deer or collies dash into the path of oncoming cars.

Jennet Greenway’s search for the body of the dog she thinks she hits leads to the discovery of a human body and a mystery that promises to be the most dangerous one yet.

I stepped outside into a soundless world devoid of color. The abrupt transition from Christmas cheer to bleak November caught me off guard. Dull gray clouds moved listlessly across a drab sky, and flurries danced in the air. The fog seemed close enough to touch, floating in gauzy horizontal streaks above the ground.

At this time of year, darkness arrived early in Foxglove Corners. I had an hour of daylight left, perhaps less. As I cleared the snow from my rear window, I decided to return to the lake for one last search while visibility was still good. Then I’d go home without stopping for dinner at a backwoods restaurant. I had some of Camille’s chicken soup left and most of the coffeecake. Tomorrow, if I didn’t learn anything new at the antique shop, I could look for another store on Deer Leap Trail.

While the heater warmed the car, I turned on my tape player. A medley of Spanish carols and the rhythmic swish of windshield wipers accompanied me back to the lake. For the first time, I wondered how Lost Lake acquired its name. It was clearly visible from the road. Maybe, in the past, the woods had been thicker, hiding the silver sheen of water that lay beyond them. But then, wouldn’t Hidden Lake or Secret Lake be more appropriate?

Crane might know. Crane... I recalled his warning about loitering on isolated roads. He frequently spoke of a variety of calamities just waiting to overtake me. Often, in the past, he’d been right. Today, I was in a chance-taking mood, and I hadn’t seen another vehicle since leaving Past Perfect. I checked in my rear view mirror. I didn’t see one now. Besides, I intended to search only a tiny section of the countryside and be on my way. What could happen?

When I reached Lost Lake, I parked alongside a stand of blue spruces and surveyed the area from inside the car. I recognized the broken sapling that had ended my skid last night. This was where I’d stopped, although fresh snow covered the tire tracks. A giant boulder lay at the road’s edge. Could I have hit a rock and mistaken it for a dog?

Not likely. Still, I didn’t remember. That was the problem. I never saw the dog go down under the wheels of my car.

Leaving the engine running and the lights on, I pulled my hood forward over my head and made my way down to the lake, looking for some sign of an animal buried under the snow. Only deer tracks and a trail of crisscrossing prints marred the smooth, pristine landscape. It appeared as if Crane and I were the only humans ever to venture this way.

Wisps of fog hung low over the lake, like earthbound clouds. Shivering in the damp and cold, I stood at the water’s edge, ankle deep in slush, noticing details that had eluded me yesterday. Actually, this was a large pond, and the trees that grew around it were weeping willows dripping their long brown fronds over the icy surface.

I could see clear through to the other side where willows rose in a dark, billowing curve on the farther shore. In the summer, this would be a lovely spot for a picnic. Even now it was tranquil and picturesque--and lonely. Almost haunted.

Enough melodrama, I though. Halloween is over. If the place seems haunted, it’s because of what happened here. What you think happened here.

And if this seems to be a place of tears, it’s because weeping willows are earth’s saddest trees.

The beginning of the last Spanish selection in the old world carol set reminded me that I intended to make this a short search. I was about to retrace my steps and check the woods across the road when two white collies emerged from the mist. Like pieces of fog transformed into graceful shapes, they chased each other silently around a fallen limb that lay half on the ground and half on the lake.

Dorothy Bodoin lives in Royal Oak, Michigan, with her black collie, Holly, who appears in the Foxglove Corners cozy mysteries as Halley. After attending Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan, where she earned Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in English, she taught secondary English for several years. Now she is a full-time writer of cozy mysteries and novels of romantic suspense. At present she is working on a novel of romantic suspense.

Fiction Books :: Mystery & Detective Books :: Hard-Boiled Books

ISBN: 1597058998
ISBN(13-digit): 9781597058995
Copyright: 2008
Book Publisher: Wings ePress
Binding: Perfect
No. of Pages: 334
Paper Weight (lb): 13.8

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