Page 35 of Lake House Killer

Going to the hospital is a routine I cherish, and it gives me time to chat with patients and staff. I like to think that I’m offering them both smiles and conversation where they’re most needed.

Then Friday it’s off to the animal shelter. There’s a big adoption fair coming up in two weeks and there’s still so much to do in preparation. Not to mention I get to cuddle with all the new rescues. How I love those furry darlings.

“I should probably pick up some more cat food on the way there,” I think out loud. Something I’m more prone to do now that Randall is gone. The thinking out loud part, although the buying of the cat food isn’t too far behind. “And maybe I’ll pick up some of those treats the dogs love, too?” Can’t leave the pooches out of the fun or out of my pocketbook.

“That’s it,” I say as I pat the dirt around the garden as far as I can reach before standing and stretching my back.

It’s so quiet here now in the neighborhood. It’s a stillness that’s a little too silent for my liking. We need some young blood in this neighborhood, some true-blue children who scream from sun up ’til sun down.

But even the usual sounds of cars passing by are conspicuously absent at the moment. It’s as if all of time has stood still.

A flicker of unease passes through me, but I’m quick to dismiss it.

“You’re getting jumpy in your old age, Nora,” I happily scold myself.

Randall used to laugh and agree with me when I said things like that, and call me crazy. Now I’m just crazy.

I glance back to the woods as the shadows begin to elongate in the early evening.

Damien and Lydia come to mind.

“Poor, poor Lydia.” I shake my head.

I didn’t know that other couple but how awful for them, too. Murdered in cold blood. And then Damien trying to chase the bad guy like some superhero. He’s lucky all he got was a knock to the noggin and a bullet through his hand.

But where is Lydia? Poor thing was probably so frightened she took off in the night. She may have fallen and hit her head and some animal may have finished her off for all we know. And we may never know.

Oh dear. She was such a good friend, too. A best friend. I haven’t had one of those in years. She’s been my anchor since Randall died. She let me prattle on for hours during our walks about how much I missed him. No one else wants to even hear his name.

You’d think I was conducting a séance the way people get spooked if I dare bring him up. But not Lydia. She genuinely cared.

Of course, I returned the favor. I listened for hours about her troubles, too.

And oh my, did she have them.

If the world only knew what Damien was putting her through. What he was capable of and with whom. Well, the world wouldn’t be too happy with him. It would hurt him financially. Lydia said it would be a career killer. I told her to forget about his career and cater to her own sanity.

She didn’t deserve any of those things he was doing to her.

The man is a monster.

I’d never say this out loud, but I wish Lydia was the one shot in the hand and Damien was missing. Now that would be a bit of poetic justice. It’s cruel of me to say. So I won’t. But I can think it.

“The world’s turned upside down since you left, Randall.”

I’m about to collect my gardening tools when a shadow passes by the trees nearby and I startle.

That can’t be right. Regardless, it’s started my heart racing.

It could be a bear.

My muscles freeze as I strain my ears for any sound. The slight rustle of leaves and the soft tread of footsteps can be heard and I gasp.

It could be a hiker. We’ve had them trespass without knowing it, of course. Or it could be a neighbor looking for a lost pet. We’ve had that, too. Although they don’t seem rushed. Whoever it is feels as if they’re being sneaky.

“Who’s there?” I call out as the sky grows murkier, quickly losing its light.

No answer comes, just another series of footsteps growing louder, more deliberate, the crunch of leaves giving them away.

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