The boat ramp was deserted.

The public park closed at dusk, and the county road two hundred yards behind us had no traffic this late on an October Sunday.

We followed the muddy dirt path through the overgrown sumac toward the storage shed.

Dark lake water lapped quietly against the wooden pilings of the empty dock.

The shed sat tucked under three huge white pines, its dark wooden planks stained brown and weathered gray near the ground.

A heavy iron latch held the double doors closed, locked with an old brass padlock.