Page 38 of Monsters

“Ah… that’s—”

“Will Peter be joining you this stay? It would be lovely to see him again.”

“No, he—”

“I tell you what… if you don’t feel like cooking later on, I have stew in the slow cooker. I’ll bring some by.”

“You don’t need—”

“Nonsense! It’s lovely to see you again, darling. I must shuffle on. These obnoxious weeds won’t pull themselves out.”

And just as quick as she appeared, Mrs. Harper disappeared behind the fence. Exhaling, I rolled the tension from my shoulders. Talking with my parents’ neighbor often felt like getting caught in a whirlwind.

Once inside, I opened a few windows to allow the house to air out after a week of being closed and stuffy, and unpacked the groceries. Cracking open a new bottle of Sauvignon, I poured a glass of wine and relished the fruity taste. As I nestled into the plush sofa, my cell buzzed.

Charlie.

Charlie: Biatch! I owe you.

I smiled knowing how much this opportunity meant to him.

Me: Don’t let me down. There’s a lot riding on both our shoulders.

Charlie: I’ll be so awesome at it, you won’t even have a job when you get back! HA!

No doubt!

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, I took another delightful sip of wine and contemplated how I could stop my life from unraveling before my eyes. I didn’t fancy sharing the same space with Mason Carter. So I had to track down Lucas, and with any luck get him to put a leash on his brother. Mason needed a friendly reminder by someone he’d listen to, that to this point I’d held up my end of the bargain and he had to do the same.

The truth was, I didn’t know what I’d seen that night.

I didn’t have the answers to solve the case.

All I had was a split-second, decade-old memory.

And a warning from Mason Carter to keep my mouth shut.

But according to the detectives, someone had been killed, their body discovered in the woods not far from the cabin. If Lucas and Mason were indeed involved, the right thing would be to tell the detectives what I’d witnessed. But what I witnessed didn’t necessarily correlate to the murder of this mystery man. I had no proof the two were connected. The brothers were young, incapable of being involved in a murder case.

But why the insistence to keep quiet? Why the harassment?

In any situation, Lucas would be the answer. The problem was, I hadn’t a clue how to find him.

For years after Lucas left without saying goodbye, I wrote him letters that would never be sent. They would never have a recipient because I didn’t know to where the Carters had moved. Lucas never attempted, not even once, to make contact. Writing the letters had been therapeutic as I mourned the loss of our friendship. I loved him, even if it was considered teenage love, and I knew he felt the same. I cried most nights into my pillow, hushing whenever my mother’s footsteps stopped outside my door. She knew I was sobbing but also knew she couldn’t bring him back.

Then one day I woke, determined to put the past behind me.

That day I decided I no longer wanted to feel the pain.

That meant letting go of everything Lucas Carter.

---