Free Devil's Lake (Bittersweet Hollow Book 1) by Aaron Paul Lazar Page A

and insurance. Can you get them?”
    He was out the door in a flash, and back in a few minutes with the folder in hand. “Here you go.”
    “Give it to Dad, please.” She motioned to her father. “Check out the address.”
    Dirk rummaged through the papers and peered at them closely. “Daisy? Have you got your glasses on? What’s that say?” He handed the paper to his wife.
    “Looks like his name is Budley McVail. And it’s a place called Baraboo, Wisconsin. What a funny name. For both of them.”
    “I don’t think that’s his real name,” Portia said, sounding defeated. “He might have stolen the truck.”
    Portia’s father jumped up and grabbed a US Atlas from the desk in the living room, flipping through the pages until he found Wisconsin. “Let see. Here’s Madison.” He moved his finger up the map. “And here’s Middleton.”
    Boone and Anderson got up and watched over his shoulder. Dirk’s finger moved on the map. “There it is. Baraboo. Looks like it’s about thirty or forty miles north of Middleton.”
    Portia sat quietly while they talked about the landscape, and possible approaches. She waited until their comments had slowed, and said. “There’s more. We were right next to a lake.”
    “Hmm. There’s a lake just south of the town called Devil’s Lake. Could be a possibility. Lots of woods and state land there, too.”
    “That’s it!” Portia said with a shiver. “Devil’s Lake.”
    Her father looked up with an encouraging smile. “Please, go on.”
    “The road to the cabin woke me up. It was so bumpy, like it wasn’t even meant for cars, you know? I remember hearing the axle hit roots or rocks, and occasionally he’d have to back up and go around another way.”
    She paused, closing her eyes to remember. “There was a pole at one intersection with deer antlers nailed to it. Like some sort of trophies. I remember the truck headlights lighting them up. Disgusting.” She shook her head and grimaced. “Of course, when I drove out of there I was in such a panic I don’t remember a thing about it. It was a miracle I found my way out.”
    Daisy leaned over and touched her hand. “Could you see the cabin? What did it look like?”
    Portia sighed with trembling breath. Exhaustion started to creep over her and she didn’t know how much more she could share before she’d need a break.
    Her mother picked up on it. “That is, honey, if you’re up to it? Do you want to stop for a bit?”
    “No. A few more minutes will be okay.” Portia steeled herself. “It was a hunting cabin, I think. Heated by wood. It had a tin roof, and I only know that because I’d hear the rain on it, beating away…” She focused inwardly. “There was a front porch. All the windows were boarded up. It had a generator which ran the lights and well pump.”
    Boone said, “That might make it easier to trace. He’d have to feed it with gas all the time. He’d have to go out for that on a regular basis.”
    Anderson agreed. “Good point.”
    Portia let out a tired sigh and leaned back against the chair. “He did. He often went out for gas for the generator.”
    Grace said, “What was it like inside?”
    Her sister’s face fell. “It was my prison for two years. I could draw you a picture of every square inch of the inside.” The emotion that hit her came swiftly, surprising her with its sudden intensity. She collapsed onto her arms on the table, weeping softly.
    Daisy stood suddenly. “That’s enough for now. I'm taking her upstairs.”
    Portia raised a tear-stained face to her mother. “No. I don’t want to be cooped up anymore. I want to be outside.”
    Daisy’s eyes widened. “Well, okay, honey. Wanna sit on the porch?”
    Portia shook her head. “No. I don’t want anyone to see me.”
    Boone stood and held out a hand with a tentative smile. “How about that old glider behind the barn? We can set you up so you can see all the horses, the hills. Want to try that?”
    She nodded, tears