Chapter Four

Katherine shook a cigarette free from her pack, rolled it into the corner of her mouth and left it dangling while she searched her robe pocket for a lighter. The snow continued to fall, the world beyond the sliders a growing blur of white.

Once found, she ignited the lighter, lit her cigarette then snapped it shut. She took a deep drag, exhaled with a sigh and through the slow spiral of smoke, watched the dark cabins and the stretch of land beside them. Just beyond, the lake lay frozen and barely visible through a snowflake ballet.

With cigarette in one hand and a gradually cooling mug of coffee in the other, she stared through the snow to the past; saw James long before the madness. They had been together for two years and had only recently purchased the lake property. Twenty-five. My God, she thought, we were only twenty-five.

The snow melted away, replaced by green grass and a warm breeze rolling in off the lake. The sun was still setting, a radiant ember on the horizon just above the distant trees. James sat naked on the bank of the lake, taking in the world around him as he often did, his body wet and dripping from a recent swim. But for occasionally shooing away a mosquito, his body remained extraordinarily still. Never one to kill even a bug, he would remove them from his body with a gentle flick of his finger then watch them fly off the way a child or an unusually perceptive adult watches something similar, like the flight of a butterfly. Boundless wonder and awe, such a beautiful thing in a grown man, Katherine thought, and so rare, so very rare.

She watched him age, there on the sandy edges of the lake.

Ten years later. Ten years ago. Thirty-five now. Still so young, the both of them, and James, still christening the lake at the start of each season with a skinny dip a week or so before the tourists arrived. A ritual he had established in their first year there, always a creature of habit, he refused to let it go. He would stroll about naked the way a toddler might, unaware and in possession of innocence she could only envy. Katherine, always more reserved, would sit and watch her husband, content to eventually join him for a swim in her bathing suit or a pair of cut-offs and a T-shirt. Now and then she’d swim topless with him, but she’d never felt wholly comfortable being bottomless as well, always afraid someone might appear unannounced, intrude on their privacy and embarrass her.

Barney, just a kitten then, hopped along the grass, chased first his tail in a furious frenzy of spinning maneuvers then zeroed in on James and began stalking him with delusions of grandeur, slinking about like a lion hunting on the Serengeti. James pretended not to see, and when the tiny puff eventually pounced, he laughed and scooped the kitten up in his hands, kissing his nose as they rolled about in the grass.

Katherine looked to the garden. She had still tended one in those days. Things were still growing then, they were still growing then, ten years married and as much in love as ever, with their small lake resort and their kitten and moments like these. Beautiful things still bloomed. The world had not yet turned dark. James had not yet gone hopelessly insane.

But even then, on that wonderful quiet afternoon, she knew they would probably never again be so happy. Life was not that generous. There was always a price to pay, even for temporary moments of bliss.

Prices paid reminded her of Carlo, and that final time she’d met with him at his apartment. He’d risen from his chair, slipped into the kitchen then returned with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “Have you talked with Marcy about all this?” Carlo asked.

“Not to the same depths we have, no. I mean, Marcy wants me to go see a psychic, for God’s sake.”

“She can’t be serious.”

“She swears by this guy, says he’s told her all sorts of things.”

“Oh come on, Katherine, don’t tell me you’re buying into that nonsense these days.”

“No, not really, but I guess I try to keep an open mind.”

“The key is for your mind to be open but still functioning logically.”

“It’s not like I have anything to lose.”

“You’re actually going to let her drag you to a psychic then?”

“Probably,” she said with a chuckle. “She’s just trying to help, Carlo.”

“I know she is—hell, I like Marcy too but—”

“That’s not what you said when you dated her,” Katherine reminded him.

The statement stopped Carlo cold for a moment. “You’re the one that insisted I go out with her.”

“You were both single, alone and unattached. I thought—”

“It’s not that I didn’t like her, Katherine. I did, and still do. But we made better friends than anything else, and after two dates that was clear to both of us.” Carlo drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Look, Marcy’s a hot shit and a good person, and she’s been a loyal friend to you, but I think if you want answers about James there are better ways to—”

“I know, I know. I just figure if I go and get it over with she’ll stop bugging me about it. Marcy’s a little ditsy but—”

“Marcy’s a lot ditsy,” he said with a grin.

“But she means well.”

“Don’t we all?” He set the glasses on the coffee table and spun the cap off the bottle.

“I think what we need is a drink.”

Katherine nodded without looking at him. In college she’d been more of a drinker, though unlike Carlo, she’d cut back significantly upon joining the real world. He’d kept right on, adding alcoholism to his already growing list of problems. But then she enjoyed the luxury of restraint. He did not. James, on the other hand, had never been much of drinker. He rarely drank and had never done drugs, even in college when she and Carlo and virtually everyone else had smoked pot and dabbled with an array of other substances from time to time.

“Here, it’ll make you feel better,” Carlo said, thrusting a glass at her.

“Is that what it does for you, Carlo?”

“Just take the fucking drink, Katherine.”

She offered a mock salute before accepting the glass.

Carlo bowed his head like a sorrowful child. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay.” She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry too. Here you are listening to my problems and I start preaching to you. I just…you know I worry.”

“And I appreciate it, but don’t sweat it.” He raised his glass. “You know me, baby, I’m indestructible.”

Katherine clicked her glass against his. “To better days.”

“Just so long as they don’t get any worse,” he said with a wink.

They each took a sip of whiskey.

“It’s a bit harsh,” she said, her throat constricting.

“Sorry, can’t swing the good stuff these days.”

After a beat she said, “Have you given any thought to your own plans for the future?”

He smiled, but it was distinctly sorrowful. “You mean in terms of getting some direction or point to this miserable existence I try to pass off as a life?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I’ll get it together,” he said softly. “I will, I—I promise I will.”

She watched him a moment, reminded of how when she was just a teenager herself she’d come across a lost little boy in a department store. The child had somehow become separated from his parents and was terrified. Standing alone in an aisle, he’d not quite been crying but had a look of such horror and barely controlled emotion he seemed dangerously close to a complete breakdown at any second. While all had turned out well—Katherine had comforted the child and taken him to a customer service desk where his parents were frantically in the process of reporting him missing—the look in that little boy’s eyes was something she had never forgotten. Such a hopeless look of being lost, alone and afraid, the same look she’d found in Carlo’s eyes ever since their college days, which now encompassed the vast majority of his adult life.

“You’re my oldest and dearest friend,” she told him. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

“You won’t.” Carlo finished his drink in a quick gulp, returned to the coffee table and grabbed the bottle. “Look, instead of wasting your time worrying about me and going to psychics with Marcy, why don’t you let me help you?”

“You are helping,” she said through a thin smile.

“No, I mean really help.” He poured himself another drink. “I’ve got a lot of free time these days.”

Katherine turned back to the window, the rain. “What did you have in mind?”

“Maybe I could look into James for you, his background and whatnot. I know a lot of his past is kind of murky, but maybe there’s something there that might—”

“I don’t think there was anything terribly interesting about his past, Carlo. I think he just chose not to talk about it a lot because it was difficult for him.”

“I’m just saying, maybe I can come up with some useful information.”

“I don’t know that there’s anything to find.”

“Right, you don’t know. That’s the point.”

“Somehow, I don’t think the whole detective thing quite works for you.” She sipped her drink. “But thanks.”

“If you change your mind, I’m willing to look into it for you.”

Quiet fell over the small apartment. Only the rain sounds continued.

“I could call Reggie Byers,” Carlo added.

“Reggie?” she asked, memories of their old college friend flashing in her tired mind.

“Haven’t spoken to him in years, but if he’s still with the state police he can help.”

“God, I haven’t seen Reggie since school. I wonder how he’s doing.”

“Last I heard he was living in Boston, still married to Debbie and had a couple kids.”

Katherine shrugged. “I’m not sure I want to involve him in all this.”

“Why don’t you just let me see what I can come up with? I—hell, if nothing else, it’ll give me something to do besides sit around and drink.”

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Let me be useful for a while,” Carlo said. “Please, let me do this.”

Only silence answered for what seemed a very long time.

“We’ll see,” Katherine finally said. “We’ll see.”

Something soft brushed her leg, bringing her back to the here and now, to the snow.

Katherine glanced down to see Barney slinking between her ankles, rubbing his hindquarters along her calves and purring with delight. He’d only recently again begun to do such things. After James vanished he had sat near the sliders or in the windows for hours on end, watching the grounds, waiting for his return. Always a happy cat, Barney had become more withdrawn and sullen since the loss of James, mourning him the same as Katherine had.

She smiled, crouched down and ran a hand across his back. It was good to see him happy again, like a kitten.

Barney enjoyed her touch, craning his neck so his head could meet her fingers, his purr increasing in volume as he moved gracefully back and forth between her feet.

Without warning he recoiled, snapped his head toward the slider and sat at attention. His green eyes narrowed, watching and waiting as a low, barely audible growl emanated from deep in his throat.

Fighting off a sudden chill, Katherine turned back to the sliders.

Through the swirling flakes of snow, a figure emerged. Walking slowly down the path between the lake and the grounds was a lone man dressed in a long dark overcoat and a black knit hat. Katherine put her coffee down, quickly butted her cigarette in an ashtray and moved toward one end of the sliders. She cocked her head in an attempt to see the modest parking area between her house and the next cottage, but it revealed only her old Ford Bronco.

It was virtually unheard of to see a stranger this time of year, particularly on foot.

The man was at the base of the steps now. He glanced in both directions then lifted a pair of black eyes to the sliders, his lips pursed, trails of mist tumbling from his nostrils as his breath hit the frigid air.

As she held his dead stare, Katherine felt another chill trickle across her spine. She did her best to appear unaffected. “Can I help you?” she asked, raising her voice so it could be heard through the glass. The man stared at her but offered no response. “This is private property, can I help you?” Katherine closed her robe at the neck with one hand and cinched the belt tightly around her waist with the other. Her unexpected visitor stood mere feet from her, separated only by a few steps and the large pane of glass. His rugged and heavily lined face made it difficult for her to gauge his age.

“Nothing’s moving in the snow,” the man said, his voice gravelly and tight, as if he rarely used it. “The roads are getting worse.”

It was certainly an odd way to begin a conversation, but she assumed he had seen the old sign advertising cottages for rent. Still, what was this man doing in a tourist town not only in the middle of winter but also with one of the worst snowstorms the area had seen in years on its way and already beginning to bear down? She leaned a bit closer to the slider. “I’m sorry, but we’re no longer in business.”

“It’s very cold.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t rent anymore, we’re closed.”

“It’s very cold,” the man said again.

Katherine glanced at the slider to make certain it was locked. “If you get back on the main road and—”

The man shook his head and motioned in the direction from which he’d come. A little girl stood huddled in a winter coat, the hood pulled up over her head so that her face was hidden. From her physical stature she appeared to be no more than six or seven years old. “She’s only a child,” he said in monotone.

Katherine sidestepped a wave of guilt. “Where’s your car?”

The man said nothing, only stared at her as if he hadn’t understood the question.

His behavior seemed odd at best, wildly suspicious at worst. But then, what if he was simply disoriented? They had to have a car in such a desolate location. Maybe they’d had an accident. Or maybe he was some deranged lunatic.

Or just maybe, she thought, I’m being paranoid.

Hadn’t she once accused James of the same indiscretion when he’d first begun to question everything he saw and heard? Every excuse in the world, every rationalization was attempted, but once acknowledged nothing could stop it, nothing could make those things that haunted him go away.

Now it was a daily struggle to make certain they did not haunt her as well.

The lake had done this to her—to them both—it had all started with the lake, always the goddamn lake. It had caused her to never be quite sure which emotions were real and which were imagined. It had taken so much from her and left her with so little, most days it was impossible to distinguish genuine feelings of fear, loss and confusion with the incoherent ramblings that often coursed through her mind.

Although she felt horrible turning them away, she was a woman in the middle of nowhere and had little choice. If the man was not prepared to better explain his circumstances, then she was in no position to trust him.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

The man watched her silently, the falling snowflakes rapidly accumulating across his inert form. Not wanting him to realize she was alone, she glanced over her shoulder and pretended to call someone. “Honey, can you come out here a minute? Someone’s here.”

Katherine turned back to the deck, prepared to carry the bluff further, but the man and the little girl were gone.