Asylum Lake Read Online Free PDF Page B

to the Up North House Brady could feel the memories pulling at him. Fourteen years is a long time to wait, and some memories are less patient than others. The impatient memories, he had learned, eventually start searching for you.
    Now, staring out at the windswept lake, Brady knew they had found him and it was finally time to remember.

    June 29, 1996
    Bedlam Falls, Michigan

    Brady knew before his father even opened his mouth what was coming. Maybe it was the devilish look in the man’s eye or the way he was clutching the bag of marshmallows, but for whatever reason, Brady felt his face reddening in anticipation of the embarrassment that was fast approaching. “Did Brady ever tell you about the time he tried to roast marshmallows with the hair dryer?” his dad asked, passing the marshmallows around the fire.
    “Now, John,” his mother interrupted before the infamous hair-dryer story could be told. A son can always count on his mother to come to the rescue. “Don’t you think the time he got into my make-up bag is a much better story? I know I do.” And she gave Brady a sly wink.
    Across the fire pit, April covered her mouth and giggled. Next to her Tammy Franks leaned over and whispered something into April’s ear. Brady could only imagine what they were discussing. Those two were trouble. At fourteen, Brady had already learned that girls were confusing enough on their own, but when you get two or more together, all bets were off.
    On a stump to Brady’s left, Jeff eagerly awaited the conclusion of the marshmallow story, as if there was an important moral to be learned. Jeff’s own father had died in a car accident while Jeff was still in grade school, and in his absence it was clear to anyone who took the time to notice that Brady’s friend practically worshipped John Tanner. The fact that Brady’s father had spent fifteen years as the Chief of Detectives for the Grand Rapids Police Department probably factored into it. Jeff had grown up watching COPS on television and made no secret of his desire to wear the shield one day.
    “You know, sir,” said Jeff while pushing a marshmallow down onto a roasting stick, “I made a grilled cheese once with my mom’s iron. I bet you could roast a marshmallow better with that than a hair dryer.”
    Brady’s dad responded with a look of confusion and slowly nodded his head as he smiled. “Jeff, you just might be right.” Something about Jeff Ryder, although always polite and by all accounts an all-around good kid, rubbed John Tanner the wrong way. But, much like family, a father doesn’t get to choose his child’s friends; his long years in law enforcement gave him the wisdom to realize that an annoying friend was significantly better than some of the alternatives.
    John rose to his feet and reached over to rest his hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “Linda, I think the kids are in very capable marshmallow roasting hands here." Squeezing the boy’s shoulder, he continued, “What do you say we go watch some television?”
    Jeff beamed at the compliment, missing the slightly sarcastic overtone. Not that he was a dim bulb; on the contrary, Jeff was extremely bright and the kind of athlete that comes around once every decade or so. More importantly, he was Brady’s best friend in the world, if it was only for three months every summer with the occasional long weekend mixed in.
    “All right, dear,” mom agreed. She leaned over and gave Brady a kiss on his cheek. “But we’re not watching the game tonight. The Tiger’s will just have to lose without you. What do you say we pop some corn and rent a movie?” she suggested, sashaying over to her husband’s outstretched arms.
    Brady’s father wrapped her in his arms and waltzed her in a slow circle that culminated in an awkwardly cheesy dip. “Groovy, baby.”
    The girls giggled again from across the fire. Why do they have to be so embarrassing? Brady cringed as he watched his parents make their way towards the house