Page 36 of Lake House Killer

I’m about to gather my tools, but the crunching sound from the nearby trees grows louder.

Forget the tools.

I’m about to turn for the house when I see a dark shadow not more than twenty feet in front of me. I squint into the thicket, but the shadow is quickly lost in the darkness.

Maybe it’s my imagination.

I’m about to leave when a figure emerges from the woods. It moves this way against the backdrop of dark pines, moving at an unsettling pace toward me.

I’m frozen. I can’t breathe. I’ve never been so frightened in all my life.

Then I see them for who they are.

“What are you doing here?” I call out. My heart races as I try to catch my breath. “You don’t belong here.” My eyes narrow as they quickly approach. Their movements are deliberate, almost predatory the way they’re coming at me.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I demand, taking a tentative step forward as if to show them whose property they’re trespassing on.

A thought occurs to me and my mind begins to race.

“Wait a minute. Has Lydia been found?” I ask as hope rises in my voice.

There’s no response, just a chilling silence that fills the space between us.

I take another bold step forward because I can’t find it in me to retreat. Randall warned me that my stubborn streak would get the better of me someday.

“Well? What do you want?” I try again with my voice louder this time.

The figure lunges toward me and something in their hand jabs in my direction. Instinctively, I try to grab it from them and my fingernails dig into their arm as I scrape their flesh.

They pull back before thrusting something just shy of my shoulder, and before I can react, a sharp crackle splits the air. Pain explodes through my body as an electrical jolt runs through me, sending me collapsing to the ground. I land flat on my back in the middle of my beloved plants.

The figure stands over me, here in my sweet, serene garden, and now it’s the scene of my own personal nightmare.

Fear grips me in a whole new manner and my vision begins to blur. The garden feels as if it’s spinning as I try to scream but can’t seem to do it.

The figure approaches again, this time kneeling by my side.

“Help,” I croak with all my might. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

A cold hand grips my arm, and they poke something sharp into my arm and another jolt rides through me. This time more severe than the last.

“Just a little more to help you relax,” they murmur into the night.

“No.” My voice is faint. I try to move, but my limbs are heavy, my thoughts quickly muddled by the rapid onset of whatever is coursing through my veins.

I feel faint. I’m so terrified, can’t breathe.

The last thing I see before the world goes dark is another silhouette taking shape just beyond the wickedness before me. A new face, a happy smile just for me as they hold their hand out my way.

“Randall.” His name leaves my lips one last time.

The shadowy figure stands and blocks his light as they pick up one of the bricks from my border garden. They lift it over my head and the last thing I see is it coming down at an alarming speed.

A hard slap of pain ignites in me as this world fades to nothing and a new one shines bright.

23

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

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