Page 29 of Lake House Killer

The path before me is clear as if it’s lit by the moon’s pale glow.

I will emerge from this not as a victim, but as a victor, reshaped and hardened by the fire of my vengeance.

I am the architect of my fate, and both Damien and Lydia know that no deed—no matter how deeply buried—remains unpunished.

This new season marks the beginning of the end for Damien and Lydia Cole. But as for me, it is not an end but a glorious beginning, the first page of a new chapter written in the ink of my retribution. I am the darkness in their world, and I have come to reclaim the light they stole from me.

The night stills around me as I move toward the small, dimly lit space that holds Lydia Cole.

My heart beats with both fury and satisfaction.

“I hope you’re hungry,” I say it low, my voice hardly audible over the crunch of gravel under my feet.

I clutch the bag of cat food tightly as I ready to remove the board from the small window that sits above the door. I delivered a box crate next to the door the day I broke out that window, knowing full well what I would need it for. The window itself is less than a foot tall and wide, but it’s far too tall over the frame of the door without me having the crate to stand on.

Yes, the window doesn’t have any glass. I’ve thought maybe Lydia could crawl out of it if she tried, but I don’t think she’d make it. It’s too narrow.

Although it would be comical for me to find her dead from an attempt to crawl her way to freedom. Stuck halfway between freedom and captivity, and dying on the spot. But then, someone would inevitably hear her and that’s why I’ve boarded it up.

I don my ski mask, climb onto the crate, and carefully twist the nails securing the small board in place. The bag full of cat kibble is about to slip from my hands before I make the drop, then I think better of it.

Why make it easy? Instead, I dump the contents from the bag and listen as it rains down cat food, eliciting a scream from my captive.

I can’t help but laugh as I land the board back in place.

No light for you, Lydia.

No help, no freedom.

You’ve written your last story. And now it’s time for me to write mine.

“What do you want from me?” Lydia’s voice is hoarse and weak, although I can still sense a note of defiance in there. She will never learn.

“You know exactly what I want,” I growl it out with a hiss in an effort to cloak my voice. “You and Damien have taken everything from me. And it’s all coming back to you now.” I pause, giving her a minute to drink down my words. “Eat up,” I snap. “You’ll need your strength.”

“Please, I don’t understand why you’re doing this. We never meant to hurt anyone.”

A laugh trembles in my chest.

Oh, but they did hurt someone. They hurt me. And now, they’re going to pay for everything.

“Enjoy your meal,” I whisper, trying to maintain my composure. It would be so easy to yank open the door and knock the life out of her with a shovel. “I’ll be back soon enough, and we’ll discuss just how you’re going to make amends.”

Lydia’s fearful sobs echo in my skull as I make my way back up the trail.

Her pleas for mercy fall on deaf ears.

They never offered me an ounce of mercy when they shattered my world.

And now it’s time for me to return the favor.

Come night one of Thriller Fest, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

18

Special Agent Jack Stone

The Pinecone Perk sits over Sugar Pine Lake with enough rustic charm to shake out the chill from the morning air.

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