The Lake

restaurant. Mace playing this whole thing down—but heaven knows, I can tell he’s worried. God, Deana. How can you be so blase about it all?”

“Sorry, Mom. I really am. If Allan and I had gone to the movies like we said, all of this wouldn’t be happening.” Deana’s eyes filled, and Leigh softened.

“Baby, don’t you worry. We’ll get through all this. I promise…” She stroked Deana’s cheek and forced a bright smile. “Everything’s gonna be okay. Promise.”

“Sorry to be such a kid about everything.” Deana was apologetic. God knows Mom didn’t need all this. “I’m just a bit keyed up, is all…

“Anyway, you should be back at the restaurant. I’ll be okay here. Honest. I’m not likely to go wandering off anywhere. Not until  everything’s cleared up.

“What’s Nelson griping about, anyway?” As far as she could gather, Mom left Nelson to do what he did best: create memorable meals.

Hmmm… Pretty cool name for a restaurant.

Memorable Meals.

“Nelson? Oh, the usual. Having one of his sulks again. Wants to come from behind the scenes occasionally. Be somebody. Meet the clientele. But, frankly, I’m afraid his appearance might put them off.”

“Yeah. With his eye patch and big, hook nose, he ain’t no Paul Newman, and that’s for sure!”

“Hey. There’s the door. Probably Mace with some good news…”

“I bet,” Deana agreed.

We should be so lucky.

Leigh made for the front door. Deana followed. Saw Mom peek through the small round spy-glass—and drop the door chain. It chittered and clattered swinging to and fro.

Then:

Mom was opening the door.

Reeling back, gasping oh my God…

Tripping over the doormat.

My nightmare—all over again.

Nelson.

In his chef’s hat, clutching a meat cleaver.

Holding it high.

He’s gonna hack Mom.

Then me.

In broad daylight.

And there’s no one around to help—to call the cops.

The hedges between the houses were high. Bad news for nosy neighbors; terrific for intruders. “Keeps us nice and private, honey,” Leigh told her when they bought the place. “We’ve cameras and gravel all around to deter intruders. Anyway—one phone call, and the cops’d be here in no time at all.”

Yeah. Neat plan. But somehow Deana didn’t think it was gonna work today…

Nelson changed his mind.

He dropped the cleaver. It crashed to the floor, the clatter echoing through the hallway.

His arm shot out. He grabbed Mom by the throat…

Squeeeezed it tight.

Mom spluttered; a strangled half-scream burst from her lips. It died. Next came this awful gurgling sound.

Deana gasped, her heart pounding. This can’t be for real.

It can’t…

It can. It is. It’s my nightmare come true…

You better believe it.

He’ll kill Mom.

Then he’ll kill me…

Nelson with a cleaver. Outside my window. Threatening me. Mace was right. It’s me he wants. Oh my God, this isn’t a dream.

“I’m coming to getcha…”

“STAY AWAY FROM HER!” Deana yelled.

Nelson lost it.

Drawing back a bony fist, he slugged Deana on the chin. Hard.

She heard the crack.

Felt the blinding pain.

Saw shooting stars.

And slipped into deep black space…

Before she went down, she saw Nelson’s black patch and one fierce, protruding blue eye, gleaming hatred, straining from his thin, hollow face.

His mouth was a black gaping hole. Spittle swung from his grizzled chin, trailing and dripping down his chef’s tunic.

Paul Newman, he ain’t.

Dazed, Deana clamped a hand to her jaw, wincing with pain. She watched Mom wrench away from him, get to her feet, turn and make for the phone.

Nelson’s big hand reached out, clawed at Mom’s shoulder.

Sending her down again.

Leigh crumpled to her knees, hitting the tile floor with a sickening thud. She rolled away from him, then leaned up on an elbow, shaking her head. Moving in slow motion.

Still stunned and not quite with it.

“Mom!” Deana screamed. “Get up, he’s gonna kill youuuu!”

Grunting like an enraged pig, Nelson snatched up the cleaver. Raised it above his head.

Deana screamed: “NO-OOOO!”

Leigh stared. Like a rabbit caught in the thrall of a snake. Watching Nelson’s arms slice down…

“FREEZE!”

Mace.

And Mattie.

In the doorway.

Behind Nelson.

Guns pressed into his back.

Nelson’s hand opened, letting the cleaver drop again. It clattered and clunked on the foyer tiles.

He sprang forward, leaping over Leigh and knocking Deana to one side, lurching down the hallway, toward the back of the house, panting, pushing, shoving furniture behind him as he went.

Mattie raced after him, head down, dodging the flying ammunition.

Shit!

The kitchen door slammed in her face. She felt her nose crack.

Shit shit SHIT!

She kicked open the door, cursing as the outer door swung to and fro.

Nelson was gone.

“You bastard,” she spat. “So you got away. This time!”

Mace dropped down on one knee. “Leigh. Leigh. You okay?”

“Uh-uh. Thank God you came—just in time. Guess you saved our lives. You okay, Deana?

“Deana!”