And now for something completely different . . .
The lake was Amelia’s happy place for as long as she could remember. Hearing loons as dusk descended, the lake shrouded in fog, as it so often was and, indeed, was that evening of her intended death.
He believes she is dead.
He drugged her drink. Probably rohypnol because she could neither taste nor smell it, not that she would have tried because she trusted him. Why would he drug her?
He snagged her keys from her purse, slid her into the front seat of her car and drove her toward the lake on the winding, sharply descending road. Having sped up, he jumped out of the car and let gravity work. The car dove into the lake, quicky filled with water, and Amelia being unconscious would have drowned.
That morning Stevie called and garbled her words because she was trying to speak too quickly. “Whatever you do, don’t drink anything a guy gives you. Any guy. Even if you trust him beyond all else.”
“Because he’s going to try to kill you.”
Amelia chuckled and expected an answering chuckle. When there wasn’t one, she sobered. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly serious, Amelia. I couldn’t see his face, but this guy wants you dead. I saw you die so just don’t drink anything nor get in any car with him.”
Stevie has visions. In any other family that might be considered odd but not in Amelia’s. What Stevie says, goes.
That evening Amelia left her laptop open, the camera on, as she went to use the bathroom. If he was going to do something, she’d see and could take proper precautions. She hoped as she watched on her cell phone that he did nothing. Disappointment tasted sour.
Forewarned is forearmed as her Dad likes to say. She swapped out the drugged drink for one that she had hidden in the kitchen. He wouldn’t have any reason to suspect that she suspected him so he could allow her freedom.
She wanted to ask why but had to be patient. There would be time after. She hoped.
The last thing she expected when she made the almost mile jog to his lake house was to see him embracing her best friend, Sandy. Oh, Sandy, Sandy, could you plow the knife any deeper?
“Do you have the signed form? We’ve got to get it to the bank before her body’s discovered.”
“The form?” he asks.
Amelia nearly giggles. He is, as Stevie once said, as dumb as dirt. Now it’s all clear. They wanted her money.
On time, flashing blue lights illuminate the outside of his house. She’d had the video automatically sent to the Sheriff’s office with an explanation based on Stevie’s vision and the footage her car’s dashcam before it became inundated with water. Thank goodness for having friends who are technologically savvy.
The water. She can almost still taste it in her mouth, overwhelming her, making her feel deadly cold. She shivers and thinks: if only Dad had gotten around to teaching her how to swim.
For anyone who would like a little atmosphere, here is a recording of the sound of loons.