Page 9 of Lake Hollow Curses

But that overriding sense of doom makes me think it’ll start again. Soon.

No matter how many times or ways I go over it all, there is no reason or connection that I can see between the victims other than how they died. Nothing that points to Cal or Charlie. If Carlotta found something damning, I can’t imagine what it was.

My visions haven’t lied to me yet.

The messages don’t make sense until it’s too late sometimes, but they haven’t led me wrong. What is the link?

Whistling to Droolius, as he runs along the shoreline, I glance back at Remi’s cabin. Guess he found a way out again. “Hey pal, needed to stretch your legs, huh?” I scratch his side, while squatting next to him. “Where is your cute as hell owner at? Hmm? Should we go track her down? Are we going to find her in the rockstar's cabin? That’s my guess.”

He follows me without needing to entice him with the stick I picked up. Since Grady’s privacy was compromised by the local media and talk from indiscreet locals, he made a few moves to ensure he’s not bothered at The Bends. He paid a pizza delivery guy with similar hair to switch vehicles and draw attention to his house on the southside of the lake, while he drives the guy’s Prius in peace.

Droolius bounds ahead of me towards the door of Grady’s cabin, the sound of his guitar can be heard along with Remi’s soft laugh. Letting myself in, since both do the same at my cabin, I lean back against the doorframe. Remi is in her underwear,topless, Grady is in his boxer briefs. I’m suddenly overdressed in my shorts and tank top. “Am I interrupting?” Not that I care.

Remi bounces up with a little squeal of delight. “Perfect. Get over here. Listen to this song. It took him all of fifteen minutes to write. It’s Romantic Ruin’s next hit. Come over here.” She grabs my hand to pull me over to the couch. Instead of playing, Grady puts his guitar down, with hesitant smile on his face.

I’ve done my best to steer clear of intimate interactions with both of them. Not because I don’t want them. Fuck, this close to them both is making me crawl out of my skin with want. But my seizures, Lala’s death, the past rearing its ugly head… it’s been like a dark veil over me. Do I pull them close to me, when the future is so unsteady seeming? It would be selfish. It would kill me if I can’t keep them in my life.

“Did you have another seizure?” Grady asks quietly noting the purplish mad looking mark seen under my tank top.

Shrugging, I pick his guitar up, cradling it against my chest, I strum a few notes. “What was the chord progression that Katie loved to use in her songs? She called it the cute boy bop?” My faint smile falls off my face as I remember the time spent with her excited to show us a new song. She loved to explain her ideas with her eyes shimmering. I play with my eyes closed, a hand coming to rest on my leg. When I open them, Remi is watching me intently, her thumb caressing the inside of my thigh.

“You’re really good. I mean… freaking good.” She blinks at me in surprise. “I had no idea.”

I don’t play much anymore. Over the years it became too fraught with heartache. Memories of Katie, Sara, Grady… loss, betrayal, bitterness.

“He’s better than I am,” Grady says reclining back. “He won’t admit it, but he is. He doesn’t write music, but he sure as hell plays better than I do.”

Stopping mid stroke, I put the guitar back down. I know what he’s doing. My hand rests over Remi’s. “How was the charity event?” It’s taking some restraint not to look over at Grady lounged back on the couch. His lengthening dick outlined within his maroon underwear.

“Where to do I start?” She moves behind me, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her breasts pressed against my back. Christ, we have lift off. “Father Lowe is traumatized from meeting me, I’m sure. First, I asked him a bunch of questions, then I couldn’t figure out the mechanism of the dunk tank, and kept accidentally plunging him in the water, fed him Ceily’s cookies because I mixed up the plates, stepped on his bare foot, gave him an inadvertent peep show changing out of my wet shirt… oh, oh, and this one tops it all, my phone had our Pillowbiters playlist on it, I hadn’t swiped out and I was opening my phone to look at my calendar and FMRN blared out.”

Wiping tears from my eyes from laughing, I grab ahold of her forearm. “You definitely left an impression.”

My cellphone rings, with the horse’s ass I programmed for Cal’s number. “Now what do you need?” Should I answer his call that way? Probably not, but we’ve transitioned from getting along into the more mercurial waters of friendly. So much could go wrong with that.

“Hi to you, too. Are you with Remi?” Not this again. What’s with his sudden desperation to know what she’s up to all the time?

“If I am?”

Remington mouths ‘who’s that?’ but I get up and walk to the kitchen area.

“She hasn’t called or texted me back. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, but you don’t sound likeyouare. You’re coming off strongly pathetic, with a side of obsessive.” I can’t resist needling him a bit. “What’s going on?”

He gives me a dissertation on the spiral he’s been on. I hear him talk more than I have the entire time I’ve known him. Maybe I should be alarmed he’s dumping it all on me, but instead there’s a part of me feeling downright triumphant that I’m the one he’s confiding in. Not fuckface Gibson for once.

“Wait… what? She came and found you at work to ask you that?” Mary Ross confronting him had to blow his mind. If she showed up on my door, I’d probably pledge to help her find out what happened come hell or high water. My soft spot has always been women my mom’s age or older. “Did Detective Hemminger meet with you?”

Both Grady and Remi are watching me, as Cal goes on, “Do you mean recently?”

Nothing gets by him. I roll my eyes. “Uh huh.”

I let him go on for far too long about the state of his life before making an excuse to get off the phone. Turning to Remi, I ask her, “Okay, truth time. Why are you ignoring Truitt?”

She squirms around, scratches her ankle, her face scrunching. “I’m not hiding anything.”

Oddly specific.

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