outside. Ducking into the phone booth, she checked the number over the receiver. It was a match. Amelia had been here.
As she stepped out of the booth, Karen saw someone walking along the roadside. Coming from the direction of the lake house, she seemed to emerge from the darkness.
“Amelia?” Karen called to her.
Although it was still drizzling lightly, she dawdled. Her black hair was in wet tangles, and the navy-blue rain jacket was too big on her. The sleeves came down to her fingers. She seemed lost in thought. It was another few moments before she appeared to notice Karen, and then she waved and ran toward her.
“Amelia, what are you doing out here?” Karen asked. “You’ll catch your death.”
She gave Karen a hug. Her cheek felt cold. “I’m sorry. Were you waiting long?”
“Not very,” Karen said. Pulling away, she held her at arm’s length and looked at her. Karen noticed she wasn’t wearing any makeup. “What were you doing, honey? Why didn’t you wait in the diner?”
She let out a long sigh, and tugged at a strand of her hair. “Oh, I decided to walk down to the cabin. But I only got halfway there before I chickened out and turned back. I keep thinking it would be good therapy for me to go there and see it.”
“I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” Karen replied. “You’d only get upset if you went there now. It would be pointless.” She put an arm around her. “C’mon, let’s get you some coffee, something to warm you up.”
As she ushered her into the restaurant and back toward the window table, Karen heard the blond waitress call out to someone: “Well, hi there, Frenchie!”
The two of them sat down. “We should make our orders to go,” Karen said. “I’d like to get on the road soon….”
“Frenchie?” the waitress chirped again.
Karen looked up and realized she was approaching their table. “Well, Frenchie, aren’t you going to say hi?” the waitress asked.
Karen stared across the table. “Amelia?”
Still tugging at a wet strand of hair, she looked up at the waitress. “Oh, hi…Connie,” she said, obviously reading the name tag.
“When you walked in just now, you acted like you didn’t know me,” the waitress said.
She smiled up at her. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m kind of spacey today. How are you?”
“I can’t complain,” the waitress replied. “Who’ll listen?”
“Did you just call her ‘Frenchie’?” Karen asked.
The waitress nodded. “I don’t even have to give this one a menu. She always orders the same thing, the French dip. Every time she comes in here with her folks, she…” The waitress trailed off, and a pained look passed across her face. She shook her head. “Oh, hon, I’m so sorry. All of us here felt terrible when we heard about it….”
“Thanks, Connie,” she murmured, her head down.
“I’ll get your drink order, hon,” Connie said. “The usual? Sprite?”
She nodded. “Thanks very much.” She waited until the waitress retreated toward the kitchen, then she leaned across the table to Karen. “I can tell she’s embarrassed. Could you excuse me for a minute, Karen?”
Getting to her feet, she walked over to the counter. She murmured something to the waitress, who was at the soda machine. Connie put down the glass of soda, then came around the counter and gave her a hug. After a moment, the tall, white-haired cook ambled out from the kitchen and quietly spoke to her, too. He shook her hand, but she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He blushed a bit.
Finally, she came back to the table. “They’re so sweet,” she whispered. “They’re getting our drinks to go, and are refusing to take any money, not even a tip. Listen, I need to use the bathroom, and then we can get going, okay?”
Karen watched her walk toward the restrooms.
Five minutes later, they stepped out of Danny’s Diner, carrying their drinks, along with two pieces of pie that the waitress insisted they have for free.
“God, Karen,” she said, stopping to look back at the tacky, little chalet-style restaurant. She had tears in her eyes. “Aren’t those people nice? It makes me sad to think I’m probably never coming back here.”
Karen just patted her arm, and said nothing.
They headed to the rental car, and Karen unlocked the door for her.
She hesitated before climbing inside. “Karen, I know you’re in a hurry to get to Seattle, and we have a lot to talk about,” she said. “But could we go by the lake house first?”
She grimaced. “Oh, Amelia, like I said, I don’t think you should go in there-”
“Please, Karen, I feel I need to do it for closure. On top of that, there are some things of mine in that house, and I don’t want to have to come back here.” She sighed. “I really don’t think I could go in there on my own, or with anyone else for that matter. You’re the only one. C’mon, it’s just a five-minute drive. Can’t we just do this, and get it over with?
Karen stared at her for a moment, then she took a deep breath and nodded. “All right, Amelia. We’ll swing by, if that’s what you really want. Hurry up, get in.”
She climbed into the passenger seat, and set their drinks in the cup holders.
Karen got behind the wheel, then handed her the carryout bag. Starting up the car, she backed out of the parking space. Karen paused before shifting gears, and turned toward her. “Are you sure you want to go?” she asked. “Honey, you should know, there are still bloodstains. And everything’s covered with dusting powder for fingerprints. It’s not going to be pleasant.”
She nodded glumly. “I figured as much. But I still want to go, Karen. And I want you there with me. Like I said, I need to have closure.”
“Okay,” Karen murmured.
Then she pulled onto the dark, winding road toward the beach house.
The big monster of a door wouldn’t budge.
Amelia had tugged and tugged at the handle, but it was no use. Someone must have jammed the lock on the outside.
Panic-stricken, she couldn’t get a normal breath. And she was shivering in the cold, windowless little room. Amelia kept the itchy blanket wrapped around her. Under that, she still had on her T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms from last night. Her bare feet were freezing and filthy from walking on the dirty concrete floor.
She’d already searched every inch of the place, looking for a wrench, a crowbar, or
During her search, she uncovered a watercolor she’d painted of the lake house back when she was ten. It was pretty god-awful. No wonder the thing had ended up in the fallout shelter behind some boxes. Her parents had framed it, but the glass in the frame was now cracked. Amelia slipped the watercolor out of the frame, and saw a sheet of black cardboard backing it. With that behind the glass, it was almost like a mirror-a cracked mirror.
Amelia looked at her reflection, and the close-shorn haircut someone had given her while she’d slept. She could see the skin irritation around her nose and mouth.
“Why is this happening?” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “Who’s doing this to me?”
Whoever it was, they were probably coming back for her. They’d left her food, a light, and a blanket. They wouldn’t have done that if they weren’t coming back. They wouldn’t have left her anything if they expected her to die in this gloomy little crypt.
Her hands shaking, Amelia slipped a piece of broken glass out of the frame. It was about eight inches long, and very sharp along the edge. If someone did come down here, she would be ready for them.
For some reason, she thought of Karen Carlisle. The last thing Amelia remembered was falling asleep in Karen’s spare bedroom, while Karen sat in that rocker in the corner. Had Karen decided that she was so dangerous she had to be locked up? Had Karen shorn her hair like a convict and then stuck her in this makeshift little prison?
Amelia couldn’t think of any other explanation. Maybe that was why she had this sudden, inexplicable contempt for her therapist and friend. She was as close to Karen as she’d been to the family she’d just lost. Amelia
