by L. D. Fox
“You are at the wrong place,” Drew said, holding up his hand when the woman took another step. “This property isn’t on the market anymore. Didn’t Claire tell you?”
“What?” Greta’s husband gave his wife a quick glance. “We spoke with her on Wednesday. She said she had an open house this weekend, we could just stop by anytime.”
“An open house?” Drew spluttered and then shook his head violently. He stooped to pick up a rag and began furiously wiping his hands on it. All it seemed to do was spread the grease more evenly over his fingers, though. “Well, she fucked up. I told her Thursday already to take the place off the market. She—” he waved at the astonished couple “—she evidently should have canceled with you. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave.”
“You must be joking,” Greta said, her face scrunching up into what could have been tears or furious rage. “We drove all the way out here. Four hours, it took us.”
“And probably another four hours back, if you don’t get lost,” Drew snapped. “Now please, if you don’t mind? You’re trespassing.”
“Trespassing?” Greta’s husband muttered with disgust as he turned around and jerked open his car door. “Unbelievable.”
Drew gave them a small wave. “Have a nice day now.”
“Can you believe this?” Greta said as she climbed back into the SUV. “Are you sure she didn’t phone, Len? I mean—”
The rest was cut off, both by the roar of the SUV’s engine and Greta’s door slamming shut. They reversed in a sharp arc and spat gravel from under their tires as they sped off down the drive.
His face slid into a deep scowl as he plucked out his phone.
No signal. His lips twitched. He spent a few minutes typing out a heated text message — all in caps — and then pressed send.
It gave him an error of course. He reined himself in seconds before dashing the phone to pieces on the drive and slid it back into his pocket. He glanced back at the lakehouse, straining to hear anything. It would be too far to hear voices — possibly even shouts — but he would hear if they tried the front door.
There was nothing.
Hadn’t they heard the SUV pulling away? The slam of the car door?
And if they had, why the fuck weren’t they investigating?
A sullen anger weighed on his shoulders then. What the hell were they doing in there? And why the hell hadn’t Kelly come to see how far he was with her car yet?
Giving his hands another furious wipe with the rag, he sat down, rolled onto his back, and disappeared under the car.
It was taking longer to fix the thing he’d broken than it had taken to break it in the first place.
Then again, wasn’t that always the case with cars?
44
It’s Always Sunny at Blackwater Lake
What was she forgetting? It was something important. Crucial, even. A thought? A memory? An intangible urgency kept bobbing to the surface of her mind — like ice in a long island iced tea — but, just like an ice cube, it was too slippery to take hold of. Invisible. It’s shape more a suggestion than anything substantial.
“They’re all gone.” Angel tapped Kelly’s knee. “All of them. Look.”
And, just like that, the ice-cube melted.
“All of them? You sure?”
They were still in the bed; Bryce had slipped in under the blanket at the foot end, and she and Angel sat against the headboard. They’d been playing cards again — poker, this time — while they worked their way through the snacks. She stuck her hand into the small well between her and Angel’s legs, rummaging around in the plethora of sweets wrappers that had accumulated there.
She came up empty. She tapped Bryce’s other knee. “We’re out.”
“You know how bad you two are going to crash with all that sugar?” Bryce asked, giving the sweets pile a disinterested glance over his hand. “It’s probably a good thing.”
“There’s more in the cupboard, isn’t there?” Angel’s widened her eyes at Kelly. “Let’s go fetch them.”
“Good idea.”
“Hey! We’re in the middle of a—”
Angel leaned over and pressed her mouth to Bryce’s. When she pulled back, she was wearing a wicked grin.
“Fine.” He sighed and tossed his cards into the middle where their river had been unevenly stacked on the blanket. “I was winning anyway.”
“Whatever you say.” Kelly slid out of bed, shivered when the fresh air closed around her bare legs. For a moment, she felt utterly disjointed.
What the hell was she doing in bed with these two, sans pants?
Then the memories swarmed back like hornets.
Oh, it had all begun so innocently. Here, smoke this joint. Nothing more than a few snowflakes landing on a branch. Aren’t you cold? Move closer. Then it began escalating; a mound of snow fell onto the slope. Your jeans are scratching me. Can’t you take them off? See? Mine are off. The hill began to slide. Want one of these? They’re amazing. What do you mean you’ve never had a Molly? Oh my God, you’re gonna love it!
Avalanche.
She hurriedly shoved her feet into her snow boots, glancing around. “God, it’s cold out here.”
“We’ll be quick,” Angel said, pushing against her back to force her out of bed. “Come on.”
“Bring more beer, would you?” Bryce looked up at her, then down at her legs. He twitched an eyebrow when she tugged down the hem of her long-sleeved shirt. It reached mid-thigh, but his gaze had been almost physical the way it had stroked her naked flesh.
“Ugh, more beer?” Angel said. “It smells like a dive in here.”
“Whatever, then,” Bryce murmured, his eyes going back to Kelly’s. “Long as it has alcohol in it.”
“Are you sure we should be—” Kelly began, but Angel shoved her off the bed before she could finish the thought. She landed on her knees, gasped at the stab of pain that brought, and then collapsed onto her side giggling like a fourteen-year-old.
When last had she been this stoned? Seventh grade?
The thought encouraged another wave of paralyzing giggles. Angel, giggling just as hard, helped her up and then helped her to the door.
“Angel?” called Bryce in a low voice. “Come here a sec, baby girl.”
“BRB,” Angel said, propping her against the door and then abandoning her.
Her giggles died down when she glanced behind her to see what they were doing. Bryce was at the dresser, bent over, Angel crowding in next to him.
More coke?
A small shiver tore through her. She’d never touched the stuff. Couldn’t see why anyone would. Watching them… it made her skin tight thinking that it was so close to her. And she kept waiting, kept wondering if they were going to ask her if she wanted some. What would she say? She seemed incapable of saying no ever since last night.
Snorting to herself, she went down the hall.
She probably should’ve put her pants back on; the air was frigid out here. Her teeth chattered hard for a second, and she swooned against the wall.
The ground had gone spongy under her feet.
Every step made her brain feel like it was bobbing in soup.
And the air? She could feel every inch of it sliding over her face and legs as she walked.
“Hey, you okay?” Angel appeared at her side.
“Shit,” Kelly murmured, but her teeth didn’t really feel like opening enough to let out the words. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Mmm, you too?” Angel slid a hand around her waist, tugging her tight. “Then let’s hurry — we gotta get back under that blanket, yeah?”
“We do?”
“Course,” Angel said. The girl grabbed her hip bone, squeezing her through her shirt. “Heat’s good.”
Goddamnit; why had she let the girl talk her into this?
Just half, peaches. It’s mellow, you’ll see.
No, not Angel. Bryce. He’d talked her into this.
And this? This was nowhere close to f
ucking mellow. Her skin crawled like it was divorcing her muscles and suing for fucking alimony.
“What…” her jaw tightened for a moment before she could force it open again. “What did I take?”
“Molly?”
“I mean—” she swallowed hard “—it had a picture. What? What was it?”
“Oh. These are sunnies. Real mellow.”
“Mellow?” She tried to snort, but it didn’t work. “Don’t feel like it.”
“You’re overthinking. Don’t think. Thinking sucks. We’re getting snacks, remember? That’s all you gotta remember right now; snacks.” Angel giggled and pressed her nose to the side of Kelly’s neck. “And I’m freezing, so let’s hurry.”
“Holy crap.” She pulled away from the girl and frowned at her. “Keep that thing to yourself.”
She touched the tip of Angel’s nose with her finger. And then she giggled. Because, why not?
Angel laughed and gave her another tight squeeze. And Kelly slid her arm around her waist and squeezed back.
Because, seriously… why not?
The house seemed too quiet when they walked through the living room.
“We need music,” Angel said, shrugging when Kelly turned wide eyes to her.
“Too quiet, right?”
“Mos’ def’,” the girl said. “Hang on. Rich people usually… yup, there it is.”
She abandoned Kelly and walked over to the fireplace’s lintel to retrieve a tablet computer from its stand. Kelly walked over to watch as the girl stabbed experimentally on the screen.
Abruptly, rock music blared out from hidden speakers.
“Shit!” Kelly put her hands over her ears, and Angel turned down the volume a little.
“Better?”
She made a thumbs up. At least, with the blaring music, she couldn’t hear herself breathing. And there had to be a bass speaker down here somewhere — the beating of her heart had been replaced with the music’s thumping drum beats.
Angel pointed to the fireplace and brought them to a halt. They stared at the empty, black square of masonry for a few seconds. Was it her imagination, or was it pulsing slightly, like the geometric void of some strangely rectangular beast from the nether realm?
Crap, what the hell was a nether realm?
“I’m gonna ask Bryce to light that for us,” Angel said over the music. “Then we can come sit down here. Nice, right?”
“Sounds amazing.” Kelly glanced at the fire and shivered when the air caressed her legs like chilled silk. “Like now?”
“Snacks. Then upstairs. Blanket. Get warm.” Angel waved at the fireplace. “Things take a while to get going, anyway.” Then she pulled Kelly close, putting her mouth to her ear. “Hey,” she said with a giggle. “Me and Drew fucked here last night.”
“Oh.” She reeled for a moment — more from the shock of the girl’s body heat against her than the pronouncement — and then nodded hard. “Thought you would.”
“You did?” Angel put her head to the side and then started for the kitchen again. “You know, you’re too shy.”
“Shy?”
“Shy,” Angel said like she liked the sound of the word. “You could have had Drew. Didn’t fight for him.” The girl gave her a crooked smile and tugged her into the kitchen.
Kelly’s mouth twitched to the side. Something had been trying to get her attention back there, in the living room. The fireplace? The deck? The lake?
But as soon as she stepped through the kitchen door, the urge to stop — concentrate — think — vanished.
“I don’t think I want him anymore,” she mumbled and then wondered why. Who didn’t she want? Bryce? Why would she say that? It wasn’t as if she’d ever wanted him, was it?
Angel plucked open a cabinet and tossed a few bags of chips her way. She barely managed to catch them but held on grimly enough to make the bags drum-tight. “This?”
“Snacks, remember?” Angel grinned at her over her shoulder. “You forget already?”
“No, no. Snacks. Got it.” She ran her tongue along her teeth. Her mouth tasted too sweet after all those chocolates. “Drinks. Drinks?”
“Drinks.” Angel, wearing a serious expression, pointed in her direction. “Coming right up.”
Kelly put the chips down on a counter and opened another one at random. “Crackers?”
“Nope. Too dry.” Angel glanced at her over her shoulder. “Trust me.”
“Dry…” she murmured, running her eyes over the stock inside the cupboard. “Rice cakes?”
Angel made a gagging sound and emerged from the fridge with two bottles of wine, a soda bottle, and a big bottle of spring water. “Glasses, glasses…”
“Straws.” Kelly pointed in the direction of one of the kitchen drawers. “Then we don’t need glasses. Suck it right out the bottle.”
Angel spun to her, the bottles clutched to her checks. “Oh my God! That’s fucking genius, Kay.”
“What is?” She watched the girl rummaging through a drawer while she popped open one of the bags of chips. The texture was amazing until the thing went soggy in her mouth. She hurriedly swallowed and tried another one. This one wouldn’t go soggy at all — it was as if every ounce of moisture had been sucked from her mouth. And the more she concentrated on trying to swallow the offending crisp, the less concentration she had for holding onto her stash of snacks.
“You’re spilling.” Angel was next to her, propping up a bag of chips that was doing its best to escape her arms. “Come on, I think we’re good.”
“Upstairs?”
“Yeah, we are.” Angel bumped hips with her as they left the kitchen.
They were in the hallway outside the bedroom when Bryce came to find them. He stood for a moment, watching them trying to get everything back in their arms, and then strode over.
“Why’d you only put the music on down there?”
“Thing’s complicated,” Angel said, trying unsuccessfully to hold onto all the bottles and pick up a crisp packet. “Is it too loud?”
“If we were back in suburbia, yeah. There isn’t another house for half a mile.”
Bryce went over to Angel and picked up one of the crisp packets on the floor.
“Jesus.” He loomed over them, shaking his head. “There anything left in the kitchen?”
“Nope,” Kelly said. “This’s it.” Her jaw clenched hard, so she had to shake her head for emphasis.
Bryce ducked, put down the chips, and grabbed her face in his hands. He tipped her head up, his thumbs on her cheekbones, and twisted her face from side to side.
“Glad I’m not the only one,” he said, his dark eyes settling on hers with an intensity that made her squirm. “Enjoy the ride, peaches.”
45
Motivation
As soon as Kelly’s car was up and running again, Drew doubled back to the lakehouse as quietly as he could. He’d left the toolbox beside the car, a few tools scattered around in case anyone tried to see through the trees on the upper level of the lakehouse and could make out the side of Kelly’s car.
When he reached the bottom step, he paused a few seconds, and then carefully took the front door keys from his pocket.
To his knowledge, they were the only copy on the property.
Which suited him just fine.
He quietly locked the front door, making sure that the keys didn’t jangle against each other. He’d have been fine on any of them walking in on him fixing Kelly’s car, but not now.
Definitely not now.
Despite how carefully he moved, his feet still crunched on leaves and dirt as he made his way to the side of the house.
There were more steps here, heading down to the lake. Beside him, log turned to brick. And in that brick wall, a door. He glanced up, squinting up at the kitchen window more than six feet above him. It was closed. He unlocked the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside.
His cabin cruiser was as still as the surface of the lake. Even when a breeze ruffled the surface of
the water a few seconds later, it barely lifted the hull. He let himself into the boathouse and went around to the lockers at the back. He opened the doors and inhaled a long, slow breath.
Good… his house sitter had followed his instructions as meticulously as he’d hoped.
Drew flipped on the light switch. It shone a sickly white glow over everything, turning the oxygen tanks into hulking shapes that gleamed as ominously as the medical equipment in a hospital.
When his cellphone rang, he almost dropped the cylinder he’d been carrying toward the boat on his foot.
“Jesus,” he muttered, fumbling in his pocket for his phone. He glared at the screen and answered with a gruff, “Yes?”
“Drew? Drew, it’s me, Claire. Listen, I can’t begin to apologize enough for—”
“No, you can’t.” He put the phone down and carried the cylinder aboard.
Claire phoned back as he set foot back on the jetty.
“What?” he barked.
“Drew, I sent them an email to cancel. All of them. I have no idea why they still came through. I mean, I told everyone the house was off the market. I did. I wouldn’t intentionally ruin your—”
“Forget it, Claire. What’s done is done. It fucked up a perfectly good morning, but I guess I’ll just have to hire a different realtor the next time I need to sell a house.”
The woman was still whining about something when he put the phone down on her. He waited for a few seconds, heart hammering in his throat and a frown etched deep between his brows, staring at the phone’s dead screen.
But she didn’t phone back.
He turned, put his back to the wall beside the boat house’s door, and slid into a crouch. Yanking his cigarettes from his pocket, he stared out at the lake as he lit his cigarette.
She’d emailed all of them? Told everyone it wasn’t for sale anymore?
What if more people came? People like Greta and her husband, who’d somehow not gotten Claire’s email. Who’d driven five, six, seven hours to get here and would be willing to poke their heads inside even if they didn’t see a for sale sign on the drive next to Kelly’s car?
