“Oh yes, of course,” my mother said, floating forward. Oh sure, Kyle, Caesar, and I all looked like drowned rats, but my mother still managed to look like a butterfly. “Charles, I am very upset with you. I thought we agreed that your family wouldn’t come.”
“I tried! I really did!” Chuck said. It was hard to tell in the gloom, but he looked like he might be blushing. “I am so sorry. I told you my uncle could be, well, I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
My mother nodded. “Of course not, but remember we spoke about the importance of standing up for oneself?”
Chuck nodded eagerly then added, “You look just like your picture on the retreat’s website.”
Oh, for the love of—
Kyle stepped over, thankfully, distracting me from whatever this was. “Are you sure we’re safe here? The place kind of has a murder room vibe.” He jerked a thumb at the eternally hissing fox.”
“Honestly, I have no idea.” I put the gun on the table before lifting the purse off from around my neck. I almost thought about sticking the gun in my waistband, but I was worried about the possibility of shooting myself in the butt.
I stripped off my wet jacket before I set to rifling through the contents of the purse. Wafts of Ronnie’s rose perfume filled the air. “Bingo,” I said under my breath, thrusting the phone into the air. I swiped the screen, and it beamed to life. “Yes!”
Then I realized I didn’t know her password.
“Try 1, 2, 3, 4,” Kyle said.
I squinted at him.
“Seriously, it’s worth a shot.”
I tried it … and wouldn’t you know. “Good call, kid.”
“So what’s the plan?” Kyle asked. “Who are you calling?”
“The police first. Then Freddie.” I turned my back to him and walked a few steps away toward the back hallway, poking at the phone’s screen.
“You know all of this would be over if you had just shot whoever was coming after us back at the lodge.”
I shook my head, but I couldn’t say the same thought hadn’t crossed my mind. “Sorry, Kyle. I’m just not all that comfortable shooting people hidden behind doors.”
“You seem angry,” my mom suddenly said. I almost answered her when I realized she was talking to Kyle. “And maybe a little afraid?”
The teen rolled his eyes so violently, I wasn’t sure they were going to make it back down from the top of his head.
I half-smiled as a thought occurred to me. “She’s right, you know.”
Kyle’s eyes snapped over to me.
“You two should talk as I make the calls,” I said. “You have feelings that need a voice.” The only cure for a grumpy teenager was an equally oblivious mom. “Do you think you could help Kyle with that?”
“Of course,” my mother said coming up behind him, dropping her hands on his shoulders.
“She’s right,” Chuck called out. “Talking about your feelings is healthy. I read about it for this—”
Kyle managed to trip Chuck up with a look.
“Never mind.”
He then turned back toward me and mouthed, Help me, as my mother draped an arm around him.
“You’ll be fine.”
I walked off into the darkened hallway of the small cabin toward the back den, grabbing a throw off the sofa and wrapping it around my shoulders. The room was just as cluttered as the rest of the house but had a door leading to the woods and no insulation by the feel of it.
I called Grady’s number, but after ringing twice, the call cut off. I then sent him a text, but it bounced back saying it couldn’t be delivered. I sighed. Maybe it had something to do with the storm?
I almost tapped Freddie’s number before I opted to use video chat. I wasn’t entirely sure why I had decided to go that route. Maybe I just wanted to convince myself that there was still a real world outside of this storm.
The phone trilled a few times before the screen popped to life.
“Erica?” Freddie asked. “Is that you? Where have you been? I’ve been calling and calling!”
“I dropped my phone in the water.”
“You what? You look terrible. Where are you now? It’s all dark.”
“Kit Kat and Tweety’s. Where are you?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he just leaned in closer to the screen and squinted his eyes.
“Freddie? What’s going—”
The look on his face sent cold fear rushing down my spine. His eyes widened, showing me a lot of white, but he wasn’t looking quite at me … more … beyond me.
“Erica,” he whispered. “Don’t freak out, but I think there’s someone behind you.”
I went completely still.
The killer had known about the twin’s place too. Of course he had. He was a professional! He—
I slowly turned my head and—
—jolted when I met the eyes of a deer.
“Jesus,” I snapped, collapsing way deep into the seat of an old armchair. I had to clutch the armrest to stop myself from getting stuck in the springs. “It’s a mount.”
“Sorry. Sorry,” Freddie said. “I can barely see you. I saw the eyes, and … it doesn’t matter I’m just a little freaked out.”
“Where are you?” I asked again, looking at a file cabinet off Freddie’s shoulder. “Is that the sheriff’s department?”
“Yeah, I came looking for Grady, or someone who might know where Grady is, but nobody’s here. I can’t find anyone. It’s really starting to creep me out. I feel a little like I’m at the beginning of a zombie apocalypse movie.”
I shook my head. “Relax. It was just Rhonda holding down the fort, and now she’s here.”
Freddie cocked his head. “What?”
“She’s here. On the island.”
“What?” Freddie asked again this time bringing the phone way too close to his face so that his left eye was peering into me. “How the hell did she manage that?”
“She took one of the police boats. She made it over when there was a break in the storm.” I smiled weakly and shook my head, trying to push away the thought of where she might be right now. If something happened to her … “Lake Patrol said it was too dangerous, but she did it anyway.”
“Seriously?” Freddie asked, still squinting at me through the screen. “Rhonda?”
“Yes, Rhonda.” I squinted back at him. “You sound disappointed.”
He leaned away from the phone and looked off to the side. “No. No. It’s awesome. Rhonda, the hero. I mean, it does feel a little like she’s throwing some shade on the rest of us in law enforcement, but—”
I smacked the phone against my forehead.
“All right, settle down,” Freddie said. “Where is she now?”
“We got separated. Actually, I think she went after the killer,” I said, blowing out some air. “I don’t know what’s going on. Everybody else has disappeared.”
“That’s not true,” a voice said from the doorway.
“Is that the kid?” Freddie asked.
“Well, it’s not. There’s still Chuck and the doughy cameraman.”
I rubbed my face with my free hand. Seriously, was this what being a parent was like? I couldn’t even make a phone call.
“What?” he asked walking toward where I was sitting, plunking himself on the armrest. “It’s true.”
“Go back in the other room, Kyle.”
“Is that your friend?” he went on, pushing his face toward the screen. “He’s not what I pictured.” An awkward moment passed. “You know for like being in security.”
Freddie’s mouth dropped open then shut. I could tell he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t get the words out over his indignation.
“Please,” I said. “Just go back into the other room. I’ll talk to you in a second.”
“I’m sorry,” Kyle went on. “But that guy looks like he’d lose a wrestling match with a marshmallow. No offense.”
My eyes widened as Freddie rattled off a string of half-sh
outed sentences that didn’t quite make sense, but certainly got his point across.
I closed my eyes and took a breath.
He’s just a kid. He’s scared. He just lost his father.
A moment later, I opened my eyes just as Freddie had calmed down enough to clearly say, “Let him die, Erica.”
“Kyle,” I said before taking another breath. “Please go back into the other room.”
“But I—”
“Go.”
“Fine,” he said, getting to his feet and throwing his hands in the air. “Not like you’re the first person to not want me around.”
He almost got me with that one, but I held firm. I waited for him to leave before I looked back down at Freddie.
“Seriously, Erica. Let him die. You’d be doing the world a favor.”
I smoothed the hair back from my face with my free hand. “He’s scared, and he’s just a kid.”
“He’s a little bast—”
“Oh my God! You can’t call kids that!” I yelled. “Especially when the father wasn’t officially marri—doesn’t matter. You can’t call kids that.” Why was I the only one who understood this?
“Yes, you can, Erica,” Freddie said with all sorts of certainty. “You can. Say it with me. This is a safe space. No one will judg—”
“Erica!” my mom’s voice shouted from the other room. “Stop calling Kyle names this instant! You too, Freddie Ng!”
“Oh my God!” Freddie whispered, ducking his head down into his shoulders. “Is that your mother? Where did your mother come from? I thought she was in Arizona?”
“We found her knocked out in a closet.”
“Is she okay?”
“So far.”
“Oh, good,” Freddie said nodding. “That’s great. I’m glad. But a little heads up she’s around would be nice, you know?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I didn’t think she could hear us. I forgot she’s got ears like a bat.”
Freddie nodded and sat down at what looked to be Rhonda’s desk. “Okay, so what next?”
“You need to call Lake Patrol. Go talk to them in person if you have to. Tell them Rhonda’s not crazy.”
“Already tried that. Their best boat is over at Honey Harbor for some reason. And they’re not going to risk their people in any other craft.” He shook his head. “I still think Grady’s our best bet. I mean, I get that he dumped you and all, but he would not want you murdered. Where is he?”
Suddenly I felt tears come to my eyes. I quickly blinked them away. “I thought I told you before. He’s at Honey Harbor, too, trying to find some kids on the wat—”
“Are you kidding me? More kids!” Freddie yelled. “How many people have to die before we see the danger?”
“Freddie…”
“No! No. I am so tired of hearing oh, I can’t let the killer murder him; he’s a kid,” he said in what I could only guess was an Erica imitation. An unflattering one. “Everybody treats kids like they’re so special. You know, one time this kid came to my door asking for candy. Can you believe it? And—”
“Was it Halloween?”
He laughed. Then sighed. “I’ve been saving that joke all night. Then I realized this would probably be the last time I saved jokes to use on y—”
“Still not dead, Freddie.”
He nodded like he didn’t quite believe it but was putting on a brave face.
“Besides”—I moved to the back corner of the room and whispered—“it turns out the kid may already be dying.” I filled him in on what Rhonda had told me.
“Oh, well,” Freddie began before pausing a moment, “way to make me look like a jerk.”
I snorted a breath.
“Okay, I’m going to go find Grady for real this time, and let him know what’s going on.” He scanned the desk. “He’ll find a way to get us over there. With all his muscles, he should be able to swim to the island with me on his back.” Freddie shook his head. “Maybe his musculature will reassure the little—”
“Please.” I closed my eyes and shook my head.
“There has to be some way I can get in touch with him. Police radio, maybe?”
“Hey!” I shouted suddenly remembering something. “What about the walkie talkie thing they gave you for the fair?”
He scoffed. “They took it back. Said it was for official police business, and I wasn’t a—” Suddenly his eyes darted side to side. “Wait! Forget it! Listen, you need to save the battery on that phone. Just stay safe, and I’ll find Grady, and if I don’t…” I watched his eyes trail off.
I suddenly knew what he was thinking. “Don’t you come across that lake, Freddie,” I said. “Rhonda barely made it.”
“Sure. Sure,” he replied, turning down the corners of his mouth in the most insincere expression ever.
“I mean it Freddie. Don’t you—”
“Bye! Don’t die!” He then ended the call, but not before he mumbled what I thought might be, “Nobody puts Freddie in a corner.”
* * *
An hour and a half later, we were still in the cabin. No one had come to rescue us. But no one had come to kill us either, so all things considered, we were doing okay. I had tried calling both Grady and Freddie again, but I couldn’t get through to either one. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. I just hoped Freddie had listened and wasn’t trying to make it across the lake.
After Kyle escaped my mom’s therapy session, he went back to sitting on the couch, jumping at various noises, while my mother tended to Caesar and chatted with Chuck. The two quickly found a lot of common ground in the area of self-improvement and seemed almost content with the way the evening was shaping up.
I wasn’t so lucky. In fact, I was finding it pretty difficult not to slip too deeply into my own dark thoughts. But the harder I tried to resist, the more questions popped into my head. Meaning-of-life type questions, like, what I would do differently if I made it through this night alive? What would I change about my life? What did I want to live for? Worse yet, if I died, what would I really leave behind? My mother would be devastated, of course, but if I was killed, she probably would be too, so I didn’t really need to spend too much time on that scenario. I mean, Freddie would be upset. No doubt. But he was young-ish and resilient-ish. He’d move on. Eventually find a new best friend. Probably drive him or her nuts by saying things like, Well, Erica would have let me have the last slice of pizza. So I guess that was a bit of legacy. But not really the impact I wanted to leave behind on the world. I guess when most people think of legacies, they think of their children or the work they’ve left behind. As a court reporter, really, my death would just leave scheduling difficulties. And as for children, well, I’d need a father for that. Well, not according to my mother, but, I guess I was a traditionalist. And that of course led me to …
Grady.
Why did I keep messing things up with him? I had him right where I thought I had always wanted him—asking me to stay with him. Have a relationship. Be together. And I had blown it all up. Again. I mean, the obvious excuse would be to blame it on my upbringing. Growing up in a spiritual retreat for women, I had attended hundreds of divorce-recovery type sessions by the time I was twelve. That does something to a person. Then there was the whole my-mother-refusing-to-talk-about-the-identity-of-my-father thing. When I was really small, for a while there, I thought I might have been conceived through a Wiccan ritual. These are not normal thoughts for a child to have. And yet that didn’t explain everything. Not really.
A few times, I wondered if maybe deep down I believed Grady wasn’t the man for me, and that I was sabotaging the relationship to get away. But that wasn’t it either. Truth be told, I think maybe Matthew was on to something. I had just been a coward. Our being together—just happy and together—seemed like a dream come true, and I couldn’t let myself be vulnerable enough to enjoy it. Trust it. Because what would happen if it all went away? That’s why I had put off the decision to move home. Made excuses. And hurt Grady a whole lot
with all my mixed messages.
I just needed one more chance to make it right.
I closed my eyes and prayed again to the powers that be …
Please just one more chance.
I shook my head. If only it worked that way.
But, still, the thought of never being able to say I was sorry …
Wait.
Suddenly I shot up from the chair I had been sitting on at the kitchen table and looked around.
“What?” my mother asked, eyes widening. “Did you hear something?”
“No. I was just looking for—aha!” I grabbed a pad of paper off the kitchen counter then rummaged around in the drawer underneath for a pencil. Got it.
“What are you doing?” Kyle asked.
I settled myself back down at the kitchen table. “Writing a letter.”
“A letter? How is that going to help?”
“Mind your business,” I mumbled, face already turned down at the page.
Now, how to begin?
Dear Grady.
Nah, that didn’t sound right. I crossed it out. It didn’t feel like us. Too formal. I wanted this to be personal.
Grady.
Nope. I crossed that out too. That just sounded like I was mad at him. I tapped the end of the pencil on my chin.
Hey Babe.
Definitely not. That sounded like I was way too cool given the situation … or high. I ripped the paper off the pad and crumpled it up.
“What about starting with Good-bye cruel world?” Kyle offered. “Seeing as, you know, we’re all going to die. Not that you could tell with all the letter-writing and discussion of vegan recipes going on right now.”
I shook my head. Man, he really did need a nap.
“I’m sorry, okay?” he said with enough force that I had to turn to look at him. “I just want this all to be over!”
“Come sit with me,” my mom said, patting the spot beside her on the sofa.
He slumped, but shuffled in her direction. “Fine. But I don’t want to talk about why my family hates me anymore.”
“I know. I know,” she said, pulling him down on the couch. “But it might do you some good.”
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