It had to be You

rise, preparing to bolt. Howard reached across the small table and put a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’re not in trouble. We just need some information from you.”
    The man subsided. He had no choice. He wouldn’t be able to force his way past both officers and the rest of the guests. “What information?“
    “Who are you, and what are you doing in Voorburg?“ Howard asked.
    His quarry’s reply verged on outraged arrogance, as if he were so well known that everybody should recognize him. “My name is Charley Atkinson. I’m an arithmetic teacher in Beacon. The children are all passing around chicken pox, so the school is closed this week. And I’m taking the week to do some hiking. It’s what I always do on school vacations. Keeps me away from children. Not that it’s any of your business.“
    “Were you hiking over Christmas vacation?“
    “Yes, I was,“ he admitted, but still in a surly fashion. “But not far. It was too cold to camp out in the woods. I went to my boardinghouse every evening. What’s wrong with that? Hiking keeps me strong and sane.“
    “There’s nothing wrong with it, Mr. Atkinson. I think you were near that foul-smelling lake at some point, weren’t you?“
    “How did you know that?“
    “I’ll explain later, if you don’t mind answering my questions first,“ Howard replied. “Why did you happen to choose to go there?“
    “I hadn’t ever been near it, but I’d heard of it and was curious about it. It was a terrible mistake. I saw something that will haunt me for a long time.“
    “You saw something that shocked you?“
    “I sure did. I was on the hill above the lake.“ Now that he no longer felt quite so threatened, he became gabby. “I spotted a young man putting on his ice skates sitting at the edge of the lake. I thought he might be one of my former students. I meant to go in a different direction to avoid him. But before I could even turn, I heard a loud noise and saw him catapult headfirst into the lake. I rushed down, hoping I could pull him out.“
    “Did you manage to?“
    “No. The hill was steep. I kept falling in my rush to help. By the time I arrived, there was no sign of him. Only a big hole in the ice. If one person could go through the ice, so could I. Call me a coward if you want. I tried to get help for him though. I could see that there was a run-down house half concealed behind a small hill above the lake, and I noticed there was something strung up that looked as if it were a phone line. I thought I was imagining it at first. Why would a phone line run to such a remote place?“
    “Strange, indeed. I’ll explain that to you later, if you like,“ Howard said. “Please go on.“
    “I could see smoke coming out the bent stovepipe. I hoped someone was there. I tried to look in a window to get someone’s attention, but the windows were all covered up with what looked like rags. So I just pounded on the door, and shouted to call the police several times. No one responded. But the rags over another win- dow were briefly opened, so I was sure it was occupied.“
    “Did you see anyone else?“ Howard asked.
    “I did. There was a tall figure in black striding fast up the hill behind the horrible little house. I tried to follow, but my legs were shaking so badly from the shock of what I’d seen that I had no hope of catching up. I didn’t want to shout. That might attract his attention.“
    “It was a man?“ Howard asked.
    “I assumed so. The person was quite tall—and frightening.“
    “In what way frightening?“
    “He was all in black. Black boots. A long black coat. What looked to me like a black fur hat.“
    “Did the person ever turn back? Did he seem to suspect he was being followed?“
    “He never turned back, so I couldn’t see his face. Though, in my attempt to follow, I dislodged several rocks. He might have heard me thrashing along way behind him. Every time I made a noise, I tried to hide behind a tree or a rock.“
    “What did you do next?“
    “I gave up. I was sick to my stomach and terribly upset. I went back the way I’d come and went to the boardinghouse.“
    “Why didn’t you call the police then?”
    Charley Atkinson didn’t speak for a moment. He looked as if he might break into tears.
    “I was afraid. Afraid that someone would think I was making it up and that the horrible children would hear about it and laugh at me. Or that the police would think I’d killed the boy by not trying to wade in and