by Nicole Adams
The late afternoon sun poked through the canopy of trees, casting long shadows across the lake. The shadows danced and beckoned as a light fog rode in on a damp breeze. Michael buttoned his pea coat as a shiver traveled up his spine. He looked out over the lake and turned up his collar.
The lake was mostly deserted; it wasn’t open to boaters or swimmers anymore. But it had been a charming spot once. Moms and Dads picnicked on the grass while their children played at the lake’s edge. Teenagers gathered by the water and challenged each other to questionable jumps off the end of the dock. Now, the brush and grass were overgrown and reeds had taken over what used to be a sandy shoreline.
Michael nudged a wallet gently with the tip of his shoe. It was nestled loosely in the muck among the tall grass. He raised an eyebrow and thought about picking it up. The last time he was here… well, that was long ago. He was a different person then. Michael shoved his hands in his pockets. He continued looking at the wallet, but his eyes saw another time.
30 years ago… Michael, 17
The sun streaked across the sky, high above the trees while kids splashed in and out of the lake. Parents, friends, and couples were scattered along the grass lounging on blankets and eating homemade goodies.
Michael pretended to chuckle at yet another story about Jed’s party the night before. Scott jabbed his elbow into Michael’s side, laughing too hard about Mark’s supposed sexual triumphs regarding the freshman class. Michael wanted to roll his eyes. Most of these stories were bullshit. But Scott was an OK guy and it was pretty nice down by the lake.
A few girls floated on an inflatable raft near the shore, giggling and looking their way. Michael glanced over without paying too much attention, though he thought the red-head was cute. The brunette with her waved her arms. She was shouting but Michael couldn’t make out what she was saying. The dock was too far away. He turned back to his friends and half-heartedly chuckled at another story about the infamous party.
Michael didn’t go to the party. It wasn’t his crowd and those parties were always the Who’s Who of high school. And he wasn’t a famous Who. But he laughed along to the embellished adventures of his fellow seniors because it was easier than answering “What’s wrong?” all the time. There was never anything wrong; he just had nothing much to say.
“Hey,” Scott said, nudging Michael, “are you coming to the bonfire tonight?”
“What,” Michael asked, returning to the present, “a bonfire?”
“Yeah, hello to Michael. Are you in there, Michael?” Scott knocked on his head. “Bonfire. Tonight.”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh come on man. Lauri will be there.”
“So?”
“So, I thought you liked her.”
Michael shrugged. Lauri was OK. She was cute and somewhat interesting. “I think I’ve had enough fun for one day.”
“Suit yourself, but I still think you should stop by.”
present day
Michael shook his head and hitched up his coat against a sudden gust of wind. The sky had turned to a gray overcast. He lost touch with Scott after that night, but heard his old friend offed himself some years before. Here at the lake, actually.
Michael looked at the wallet again. A drop of water hit the worn leather and he watched as the water flowed in and around the cracks. A lifetime ago; that tragic night was a lifetime ago.
The sky grew darker and the rain fell harder. Michael shifted his feet and thought about leaving. But he couldn’t. He came here for a reason – rain didn’t matter at this point. He thought about Lauri, and as he had for the last few decades, wished he had gotten to the party earlier that night. Maybe things would have turned out differently if he had.
30 years ago
Michael leaned toward his stereo, flipped over his Led Zeppelin tape and pressed ‘play’. He settled back on the bed and picked up a magazine. He flipped through a few pages, stared at a few more, gave up, tossed it aside, and looked out the window. The half-moon was high in the sky, shining bright, showering the trees with a mystical haze.
Michael thought about the bonfire. He might have a decent time. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and took a deep breath of the cool breeze wafting through the window. It was pretty nice out.
And then there was Lauri. Maybe he could strike up a conversation with her. She had pretty hair and an infectious laugh. Most girls his age didn’t interest him, but Lauri wasn’t like the other girls. She wasn’t overly concerned with her appearance or possessions. He could genuinely enjoy talking to her.
Michael got up and went to the window. He looked down at the ground and decided he didn’t want another long night in his room.
Outside, the street was quiet, except for the stray squirrel or cat. It wasn’t a long walk to the lake. Michael crossed the street and headed toward the distant sounds of partying.
“You made it!” Scott slapped Michael on the back and handed him a beer. “Here, you need to catch up.”
Michael nodded with a half-smile and took a quick sip of beer to appease his friend. Scott slapped him on the back again and howled with laughter. “What a night, buddy! What a night!”
“How much have you had already?” asked Michael.
“A lot my good buddy. A lot. Like I said, you need to catch up!”
“I thought there’d be a lot more people here.”
“Bunch of folks left. Looking for someone in particular?” Scott wiggled his eyebrows at Michael.
“No. Just doesn’t seem to be many people here.”
“Well, Lauri was here. But she couldn’t wait for you.”
“What do you mean, wait for me?”
“I told her you were coming so she would come.”
“She came because of me?”
“Yeah but she’s not here anymore. So start drinking!”
Michael took a swig of beer and let Scott drag him toward the bonfire. He was sort of sorry Lauri had already left. Oh well, he probably wouldn’t stay long then.
The typical crew was hanging out at the fire, being their loud and obnoxious selves. Michael was beginning to regret coming at all. He had hoped to see some other kids from school, not just Lauri. He might have grown up with some of these guys but time and age chiseled a crack between what used to be compatible personalities. He really didn’t have much in common with them anymore, but their past friendships meant something to Michael.
Mark raised his bottle in Michael’s direction when they got closer to the fire. It was burning high and bright, lighting up a small portion of the sky over the lake. Michael could almost make out the dock, but the far end was engulfed in dark shadows. He found it a little eery, and looked back at Mark. He raised his bottle in response and they both took a drink.
“How’s it hangin’?” Troy asked Michael.
“Eh,” Michael answered, “a little to the left.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Troy raised his bottle, then took a long swig. Michael didn’t doubt they were drinking to everything tonight.
Michael stared at the fire, wondering how long he had to wait before it was polite enough for him to leave. He tried not to care about what others thought but he didn’t want Scott to think he came only to see Lauri. His friend would never let him forget it. He figured he would enjoy his beer and the fire, and then head home. The light seemed to grow and engulf him.
present day
Michael was lost in the memory of the fire. He hadn’t known, obviously. The entire time he was standing there, he had no idea. And not a day has gone by since that he hasn’t tried to relive that night over and over so his past self does something different other than just stand there and stare at the fire. But it never brings her back. It never changes that night. It never changes his guilt.
The discovery came the next morning. A lake-goer who was actually trying to catch the early worm discovered her body. Word quickly spread. Everyone learned what was discovered that morning, but no one knew what really happened. Plenty of speculation as to how and why she was killed, but no real answers, no evidence, no proof.
Michael shook his head and stared at the dock. It was dumb luck he saw the newspaper article at all. Though, he supposed, it was also inevitable that it would have ended up in his lap either way. He went to Crazy Joe’s Cafe for his morning cup of get-up-and-go and the old photo caught his attention as he walked by. Someone had left a worn out-of-state newspaper on a nearby table that he spotted on his way to the counter.
It was a picture of Lauri. Just as he remembered her – with a quiet, solemn expression and long brown hair that draped her shoulders. A faint smile that hinted at something deeper, maybe sad. It had stopped him in his tracks. That’s when he made his first call.
Michael hunched his shoulders and lowered his head, water dripping off his forehead. How terrified she must have been that night. Michael shuddered. Thanks to new advances in forensics over the last three decades, Lauri’s death was no longer a cold case.
30 years ago
Michael left after he downed his beer and was home and in bed long before Scott or the others finished their last beers and snuffed out the fire. He had a fitful night of sleep dreaming about an enveloping darkness he couldn’t escape from.
He woke with a start, slamming his hand on his incessant alarm clock blaring its ugly tone of annoyance. He banged it so hard it slid off the nightstand. Michael grunted and got out of bed.
Before he could properly open his eyes or even get dressed, his mother burst into his bedroom in a huff.
“Ma!” Michael yelled, quickly covering himself. “Do ya mind?”
“Oh Michael,” she replied, immediately turning away. “This is far more serious than your embarrassment, love. Put your pants on and come downstairs.” She turned and fled back out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her in a flourish.
Michael blinked. With a heaviness he couldn’t place, he got dressed and lumbered off to the bathroom. Thinking about the night before, he peed, splashed his face with water, ran his hands through his hair, and made his way downstairs.
present day
His parents had delivered the news. They doled it out little by little, which ended up being worse as far as Michael was concerned, than just ripping off the bandage. But his parents were worried how he would handle it. But Michael handled it. He never moved a muscle when they told him all the details the police shared with the public.
Gruesome. Evil. Dark. The worst thing that had ever happened around here. Or anywhere near here. Unspeakable acts of violence. So they said. And there were no answers. No witnesses. No evidence. Barely a recognizable body. A 30-year cold case that only recently gave up some answers, none of which made sense to Michael.
After his parents told them everything they knew – and he asked a few questions here and there, he never spoke of that night again. He pushed it away until it was just a story that happened in his hometown. And then he moved far away from his hometown, much to the disappointment of his parents. But he couldn’t stay there. Once he left for college, that was it. He was gone. Until now.
Michael absently patted the newspaper article he had carefully folded and placed in his pocket.
Six of them. The article had named all six of them. Michael thought of the faces he used to know so well. Three of them had done everyone a favor and ended their own lives. Unspeakable acts of horror, the police had said. He looked up at the sky. Thunder clouds had rolled over above the trees while dark memories had clouded his vision. The lake appeared to grow darker and he was sure this place would never see sunny skies again.
Michael looked down at the wallet and kicked it again. It had obviously been out in the elements for a long time, but it had kept its shape fairly well. He stared at it awhile, not really looking at it. His mind drifted back to the night in the diner when Jed spent the whole night flashing his new brown leather wallet, annoying just about everyone in the place. He was so damn proud of it. But there was nothing in it; he had spent all his money on the wallet itself.
Michael snapped back to the present, placed his hand on his pocket again, and focused on the wallet at his feet. It was hard to tell what might be in it, but there appeared to be items still nestled in the wallet. He bent down to pick it up, thought better of it, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out an evidence bag. Michael scooped up the wallet with the bag, shook off the excess water, and gingerly opened it.
The inside of the wallet was pretty clean for having been stuck in the muck. Nothing noteworthy except the old faded photo stuffed in the back. The corner of it was poking out and Michael instantly recognized the background. It was taken here at the lake. With as much care as he could muster, Michael opened the back portion of the wallet and gently slid the photo out. Six familiar faces were staring back at him, goofy grins, arms around each others shoulders, standing in front of the lake on a bright sunny day. A few looked like they had just come back in from swimming.
All six of them. They had all been there that night. As he had. Were they even thinking of what they did when they greeted him at the fire? Michael took a deep breath. He forced himself to really look at the faces. One left. There was only one left. He had a hell of a time finding him. But he did. As he always does. It is, after all, his job. But this one, this was definitely personal. He wanted Lauri to have justice. And probably, some shrink might say, he needed to do his part to right the scales. If only he had known then. What would he have done?
Doesn’t matter now. No matter how many times he tried to relive that night and change it… ultimately, it changed him. Gave him an interesting career. Michael carefully slid the photo back in the wallet, closed it, and placed it in the evidence bag. He didn’t really know if he needed it, but regardless… he put it in his pocket.
Michael took one last long look at the lake. It was nice once. He was nice once. That night changed everything. He continued staring at the water until the rain let up and the almost-full moon rose high above the trees, shrouded slightly by the rain clouds that eventually faded into cotton candy streaks across the night sky. Michael stretched his neck from side to side, hearing the slight pops of his vertebrae. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone.
After a few punches on the keypad and a slight pause, he said, “it’s time,” and hung up the phone.
Michael had chosen a college as far away from his hometown as he could get and still afford. He made it a few states away. At first, he had welcomed the distraction, the newness, the independence, and even the classes. But then the nightmares began and he found he couldn’t concentrate long enough to keep his grades up. They eventually kicked him out. But not before an academic review that led to a mysterious encounter that led to his new way of life.
They recruited him based on that mysterious encounter and his answers in the college review. But they wouldn’t tell him more than that. It wasn’t until later that he realized it also had to do with his quasi-involvement in Lauri’s cold case. By then, though, he was fully on board and understood on some level that her murder was how he got there in the first place.
Michael checked his watch. It would be done now. Confirmation will come soon enough. He adjusted his coat, straightened the sleeves, and glanced at the lake for the last time. Lauri has her justice. All six of them are gone now.
This one was personal. But there are more like them. He still had a job to do. Michael turned to leave. The moon was still high in the sky, lighting his way here and there through dense brush. He was a ghost anyway. That was the deal. Such is the life of a cleaner.
The Purple Sneaker 
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