The Lake

FORTY-FIVE

Friday, July 16

Lisa Bonetti was eighteen years of age. She had long dark hair, and a tall, athletic build. She played tennis, enjoyed swimming, and was a hotshot at archery.

Due to go to UCSC in the fall, Lisa was the apple, as they say, of her father’s eye.

At 3:01 she was on her way to Kathy’s Diner on Main Street, to meet her friend Margy for coffee and donuts. She’d missed out on lunch, so she was looking forward to a couple of Kathy’s fresh apple donuts. She had no idea she was being followed.

The black car cruised by a couple of times then drew up alongside as she hurried along the sidewalk.

“Miss!”

The black window slid down; an elbow, then a man’s face appeared. The man looked both serious and concerned. He glanced up, nodding briefly.

“Lisa Bonetti? I’m Detective Joe Napier, San Jose PD.” The man flashed police ID at her and returned it to the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

He leaned across the passenger seat and swung open the far-side door.

“Ms. Bonetti, your father’s in Cedar Heights. Had a near-fatal heart attack around two this afternoon. News came through as I was going off my shift. Chief asked me to drive you over to see him.”

The girl paled. She frowned slightly.

“But there must be some mistake… I mean, my father was okay this morning when I left him. He took his pills as usual and walked down the driveway to wave me off… I’ve spent some time in the library—didn’t think to call and check… Er, who phoned your office to say he was ill…?”

Her face was ashen now. Clearly, news of her father’s attack had come as a bad shock. The man in the car smiled, then said gently, “Lady name of Lydia Ashmont, your next-door neighbor I believe, phoned us to say pass on the message to daughter Lisa that Tony’s in the hospital. Right? You are Lisa Bonetti? And your father is Tony Bonetti?”

“Sure. Take me to him. And please hurry.”

Lisa stepped into the car, leaned forward, and placed her purse by her feet. She fastened her seat belt, settled back, and turned to look at the driver.

“How long will it take?”

Smiling, he said, “Not long, Ms. Bonetti. Not long.” He touched the remote button and the driver’s window slid up with a neat, whirring sound.

He reached into the glove compartment, his side of the car, and produced a hypodermic syringe.

Turning to face the girl, he smiled into her eyes and emptied the syringe into her arm.

She gave a small gasp and slumped back in her seat.

Anyone seeing her would have said she was asleep.

Roughly, the driver lifted her head, making sure she was out for the count. He felt around in his jacket pocket, brought out a few sunflower seeds, and palmed them into his mouth.

Taking a brief look in the rearview mirror, he released the hand brake and eased away from the curb.

Chewing on the seeds, the man glanced at the clock on the dash.

3:05.

His lips curved in a smile.

Whole thing’d taken around three minutes.

Lisa Bonetti’s naked body was found four months later, in a remote, seldom-used spot on the Marin Headlands. Birds and other marauding wildlife had not made indentification easy. However, of one fact there was no doubt—the body was carved open from the throat to the pubic bone.

Soft tissue was mostly gone. But the vaginal cavity contained a wad of decaying organic material. The victim’s severed tongue, heart, and other internal organs were shoved inside it.

Tony Bonetti was heartbroken at the discovery of his daughter’s remains. Bright and early one morning, unable to come to terms with her terrible fate, Tony took his old service revolver, gripped the muzzle between his teeth, and blew his head clean off.