One Last Scream

she’s-”

“No,” Karen cut her off. “No, please, don’t do that. It could be dangerous, especially if her boyfriend is there. I agree with you, Ms. Sumner. He’s a bad influence on Amelia. I don’t want you going over there. If you see him or Amelia anywhere on your property, you should call the police. I don’t mean to frighten you-”

“I’m sixty-seven years old, miss,” Helene said. “Not many things scare me anymore. I’ve lived alone in this house by the lake for the last nine years. I have a good watchdog and a loaded rifle. I’ll be all right.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Karen replied.

This was the only lead she had. And from what Amelia had told her, there was no way to get in touch with anyone at the lake house, except through Helene’s landline next door. Karen would have to drive three hours to Lake Wenatchee and hope Amelia was still there. She wondered if Blade was indeed with her this morning. Or was Amelia’s multiple personality disorder so severe that she was screaming and laughing over there by herself?

“Miss? Are you still there?”

“Um, yes, Ms. Sumner,” she said. “Can I ask you for one more favor? Could you give me directions to the Faradays’ house?”

“Have another hit,” she said, handing him the Wild Turkey bottle.

His hands on the oars, Shane grinned at her. “I think I’ve had enough. They say booze and boating is a bad mix.”

“This is a stupid little canoe,” she said, still offering him the half-drained pint bottle. “I don’t think it counts. C’mon, have another blast. It’ll warm you up.”

Shane shook his head. He already had a little buzz, and unlike Amelia, he knew his limits. Though so far, she’d downed surprisingly little for someone who had seemed bent on getting drunk less than an hour ago.

She was acting awfully strange, a total turnaround from last night. She’d been nervous and on edge throughout the movie and pizza, needy, but in a good way that made him feel like the most important person in the world. But then, since her bizarre visit with him this morning, she didn’t seem stressed out at all. She wasn’t making him feel needed, just manipulated and jerked around. That wasn’t like Amelia at all. Her flirting-the foot rubs, flashing him, the kisses, and her dirty talk-had all been a turn-on, yeah, but it all seemed like an act.

Last night, she hadn’t been able to tell him why the cops were waiting for her in her dorm lobby. She’d promised to explain later, and begged him to be patient with her. But when he’d pressed her about it again just a few minutes ago, she’d dismissed it, and said they were bugging her with more personal questions about her father. “I just didn’t feel like discussing my dad’s hang-ups with them again, that’s all,” she’d explained. “So screw them.”

She didn’t want to talk about Karen coming on to her last night either. At first she’d acted like Karen had attacked her or something. But now, in the boat, she didn’t seem too traumatized about it. Shane began to wonder if anything really did happen with Karen.

He glanced up at the darkening sky, the clouds almost obscuring Mount Rainier in the distance. “Looks like rain. We should head back,” he said, working the oars again.

“Party pooper,” she muttered. She put the cap back on the Wild Turkey bottle, then slipped it into her knapsack. She kept the knapsack in her lap. “What’s wrong with you today anyway?” she asked. “You’re acting totally weird.”

“I’m acting weird?” Shane shot back.

She nodded. “You know, I should be really sore at you. This morning, I specifically asked you not to talk to Karen, and you talked to her anyway. Did you tell her about meeting me here today?”

“No. I didn’t tell her shit. I didn’t tell anyone.” He rowed more fervently. “I’m sorry, but this whole thing is totally schizoid. You show up at my window at dawn, dragging me out of bed. You’ve got me ditching psych class and renting a canoe, so we can schlep out here in the middle of the goddamn lake for this secret meeting. My favorite shoes are all wet, and we’re about to get rained on. And you’re telling me I’m acting weird, because I’m not exactly thrilled to be jumping through all these hoops for you….”

Her head bowed, she hugged her knapsack in her lap and quietly cried.

Shane sighed. “Okay, okay, I’ll shut up. I’m sorry. Let’s just go back to my place and talk, okay? Nobody’s there right now.”

“Well, nobody’s out here right now, either,” she said, pouting. “That’s why I wanted to come here-so we could be alone. But you’re acting like you don’t want to be alone with me.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart.” He stopped rowing, and they drifted for a few moments.

“You’re treating me like I’m a stranger,” she said, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I’ve felt it ever since we met on the island. You’ve been pulling away from me. We’re out here alone in this beautiful, romantic spot, and all you want to do is go home.”

“I’m sorry, Amelia.” He shrugged and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to pull away. I just can’t figure out what you’re up to today. I-”

“What I’m up to today?” she repeated, giving him a wounded look. “What does that mean? You sound like you don’t trust me.”

“Of course, I trust you.”

“Prove it,” she said, reaching into the knapsack again.

“What?”

“I said, prove it. Prove to me that I have your trust.” She pulled a revolver out of the knapsack.

Shane recoiled, and the boat rocked a bit. “What the hell? Amelia…”

Tears in her eyes, she pointed the gun at him.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” he whispered. If he’d had a little buzz from the Wild Turkey, he was very sober now. He stayed perfectly still.

“I want to see if you really trust me, if you love me,” she said.

Gaping at the gun, he shook his head. “I–I didn’t know you had that. Where did you even get that?”

He shrunk back as she got to her feet. The boat swayed back and forth, but she kept the gun trained on him. “Oh, Jesus, be careful,” he murmured, wincing.

She sat down close to him. Their legs pressed against each other, knees bumping. Shane tried not to make any sudden moves.

She stared into his eyes. “A minute ago, you said you didn’t mean to pull away from me. If I put this gun in your mouth, would you pull away?”

“Sweetheart, please stop….”

“Then you don’t trust me,” she cried. “You don’t love me. I might as well use this gun on myself. Don’t you see? You’re all I have left, Shane.”

“Don’t, please, Amelia. Just-just-just put that thing down.”

She held the revolver a few inches from his face. He was so terrified, he could hardly breathe.

“Prove to me that you love me,” she whispered. “Let me put this in your mouth. Can’t you trust me that much? Just for a couple of seconds? If you won’t let me, I swear to God, I’ll shoot myself right here. I mean it.”

He shook his head.

“Fine,” she muttered, then she suddenly turned the gun on herself.

“No!” he screamed. The sound seemed to echo over the lake.

She froze. Her eyes wrestled with his.

“You can put it in my mouth,” he said. “If it’s that important to you, go ahead.”

Shane told himself that she’d had the chance to shoot him ever since they’d gotten out on the lake, if that was what she wanted to do. In some totally screwed-up way, maybe she was right; he’d have to trust her, and this was one way of showing it.

But as she turned the gun toward him, he felt his stomach lurch. Shane thought he might be sick. His hands shook on the oars. “Why?” he whispered. “Amelia, why are you doing this?”

Her forehead was wrinkled in concentration, but there was a strange coolness about her, too, a determined gaze past the tears in her eyes.

She brushed the end of the gun against his lips.