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The Secret of Logan Pond

A Cat in the Attic Mystery

by

Kathi Daley

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2020 by Katherine Daley

Version 1.0

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

A Cat in the Attic Mystery

The Curse of Hollister House

The Mystery Before Christmas

The Case of the Cupid Caper

The Secret of Logan Pond

Table of Contents

A Cat in the Attic Mystery

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

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Preview

Chapter 1

Friday

On May 19, 1995, Austin Brady, a middle school student, along with five of his friends, decided to take advantage of the beautiful spring weather. They cut school and headed to Logan Pond, which was really more of a lake than a pond, for an overnight fishing trip. After setting up camp, the group gathered around the campfire and told ghost stories late into the evening. When the boys awoke the following morning, Austin was gone. The five remaining boys looked for him but to no avail. It was as if he’d simply vanished.

While most folks living in the area at the time of the disappearance figured he’d simply wandered away and became lost, there were those who believed otherwise. Based on interviews conducted by me, Calliope Rose Collins, it appears Austin was a smart kid, who was nearing his thirteenth birthday. He’d lived in Foxtail Lake his entire life and was very familiar with the area. The idea that he’d gotten lost while visiting a fishing hole he’d visited many times in the past seemed like the easy answer, but in my opinion, not necessarily the correct one.

I looked at Alastair, my Great-aunt Gracie’s cat, as he sat in the window seat in the attic, watching me work. I’d recently landed a job as a full-time reporter for Foxtail News, and I’d been working on a series of articles relating to Austin’s disappearance as the twenty-fifth anniversary of that disappearance neared. While I was nowhere near solving the quarter-century-old cold case, which was my ultimate goal, I’d done a lot of research and knew quite a bit more than when I started. According to the official missing persons report my good friend, Deputy Cass Wylander, secured for me, after Austin was reported missing, the entire town came together, and hundreds of residents set out to scour the forest surrounding Logan Pond for any trace of the missing child. Unfortunately, the search came up empty. The pond was dredged, friends and relatives were interviewed, and an all-points bulletin was issued, but it seemed as if the boy had simply vanished. According to the lead investigator, even a wild animal attack would have resulted in some sort of physical evidence, but despite long hours scouring the woods, not a single clue was found.

“I think this is going to be a tough one to crack,” I said to Alastair.

“Meow.” He jumped down out of the window seat and trotted over to a stack of old magazines that had been piled up in the corner.

“Don’t knock those over,” I warned as he began to paw at the tall pile, which appeared to have been haphazardly stacked and not all that stable.

“Meow,” he answered as he gave the pile a final shove with a paw, sending it tumbling.

I let out a sigh and headed toward the magazines, which were now scattered around on the floor. “Silly cat, I told you to be careful and not knock them over.”

I began picking up the old issues of what looked to be travel magazines. I really wasn’t sure why Aunt Gracie was keeping these. Not only were they ancient, but as far as I knew, the magazines, which had been part of the stack, had gone out of business years ago.

“Oh, look,” I said, picking up the magazine Alastair had decided to sit on. “This one is a visitor’s guide to Colorado.” I opened the cover. “There are maps of hiking trails, photos of beautiful meadows, descriptions of ski areas, and locations of lakes and ponds deemed to be great for fishing.” I stood up, taking the magazine with me. “Logan Pond and Foxtail Lake are both included as premiere spots to catch your limit.” I looked at the cat. “Personally, I’ve never had all that much luck in either location.” I thumbed through the issue. “They have a section on old mines and caves in the area.” I glanced at Alastair. “I’ve always been interested in learning more about the gold rush. Maybe I’ll do some research for a future column.” Tossing the magazine on my desk, I brushed off the dust that had gathered on my sweatpants while kneeling on the floor to gather up the scattered periodicals. “Perhaps I’ll look through these old magazines later. There might actually be articles I can use. Right now, I guess we should go down for breakfast.”

“Meow.”

I’m not sure why I find the early mornings before the sun even makes its appearance over the distant summit the best time to write, but it’s a routine Alastair and I have settled into and quite enjoyed. I logged off my computer and headed down the stairs. Aunt Gracie, the owner of the home where I currently resided and had lived in as a child, was sitting at the kitchen table, having coffee with her best friend and groundskeeper, Tom Walden. I’d noticed a slight shift between the two of them since they’d returned from their vacation in Hawaii. Nothing overt, but I sensed an intimacy that hadn’t been quite as apparent before. Not that Aunt Gracie would act on whatever might be going on between them. We both believed in the family curse and had vowed to never marry or produce offspring, but not marrying or having children wasn’t the same as not falling in love.

“I noticed you were up,” Gracie greeted. “I guess you’ve been working on your column.”

I nodded as I poured a mug of coffee. “I’m trying to come up with some fresh ideas for the Austin Brady case, but I’m afraid I’m getting nowhere.”

“The boy disappeared twenty-five years ago, and despite their best effort, the local police were unable to find a single clue as to what happened to him,” Tom pointed out. “I’m not sure that the case is solvable.”

I blew out a breath and sat down with the senior couple. “I know it’s a long shot, but Dex and Austin were friends, and he really wants answers. I know it’s a big ask on his part, but I’m really hoping to give them to him.”

“I guess Dex would have been around the same age as Austin at the time of his disappearance,” Gracie said.

Dex was my boss and the current editor of Foxtail News. He inherited the position after his father, Garrett Heatherton, retired, and he was still trying to make his mark on the family business.

“Dex told me that he was actually supposed to go along with the other six boys on the overnight fishing trip, but his father found out about his plan to cut school on Friday and put an end to things. I know it’s a longshot, but this is important to Dex, so I’m going to do what I can to find something. I’m not sure what that something might be after all these years, but there must be something to discover that might not have been found back then.”