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She’d asked why but he never said.
Now, he cleared his throat from where he stood towering over her, then extended his hand, jaw hard. “Where’s that notebook you’re always writing in?”
Lorna Bea slid the small spiral notebook from her desk drawer and handed it to him. He didn’t bother to read it, just tossed it in the trashcan, lit a match and set fire to it. Smoke curled upward as the pages began to crinkle and burn. Flames caught and jumped, the heat warming her.
The first time he’d burned the pages of her notebook she’d cried and cried. She wanted to be a writer one day so everywhere they went, she wrote down the names of streets, towns, businesses, people’s names, even things they said, then used them to make up stories. But her dad had seen it and ripped it to shreds.
Now she kept two notebooks—one that he saw her writing in, and another, a notebook he knew nothing about. She wrote in it at night when he was fast asleep. It held all her secrets. Just like she thought the locked box in his closet held his secrets.
“Where are we going this time?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Wherever the car takes us.” Then he stalked out.
She stared at the empty box. When she was little, her father called their moves adventures. Once they went out west, another time to the beach. Then they’d ended up here in this little dumpy town with nothing to do. Not that they got out and did anything anyway.
We have to keep a low profile, Daddy said.
Did that mean they had to live in Deadsville? That’s what she called this place in the middle of nowhere.
She heard him whistling in the kitchen and knew she had to get busy. When he said pack, it usually meant they were leaving in a hurry.
Maybe they’d go some place fun this time. Some place with other kids.
She just hoped if there were, he’d let her talk to them.
THREE
WIDOW LAKE
The sign for Widow Lake taunted him with memories of his first kill. Some said the first was the most special. Most satisfying.
But with each one, he grew bolder and more confident.
Sunshine blared down on the asphalt as he drove past the Cabins for Rent sign and his truck was suffocatingly hot. The heat made him feel itchy like he had bugs under his skin. He flipped on the radio for the weather report, wondering how long this damn drought would last.
“Angelica Gomez, Channel Five news, reporting to you live from Widow Peak Mountain where Widow Peak College is hosting its annual tenth year class reunion for graduates. The dog days of summer have begun with a vengeance with temperatures soaring to one hundred degrees by noon and no relief in sight.” She paused for a second, then zipped on, “The water level is at an all-time low on Widow Lake, creating problems for wildlife and stirring more stories about the lost city buried beneath the water.”
His pulse clamored. It had been hot ten years ago, too. Had made him feel crazy.
“Widow Lake is widely considered by locals to be haunted by victims killed in the flooding that occurred when the dam was first built decades ago,” the reporter continued. “This summer, two swimmers have already reported feeling body parts brushing against them. Some fear the receding water may expose other unmarked graves. Concerns abound that the heat and stories will deter alumni from returning, although judging from the full-to-capacity hotels and inn, it doesn’t appear that way.”
Excitement bled through him. The reunion. They’d planned it for years. He’d gotten the call. The brothers would be there.
It was the first homecoming of the resurrection of the darkness.
And they intended to celebrate.
Memories swirled around him, transporting him back to his first kill.He raised the knife as he’d imagined so many times in his fantasies and with one quick motion slashed her throat. Her body jerked. Her breath panted out. Coppery red blood flowed down her milky white neck. Then her eyes widened in the shock of death.
A boat puttered somewhere in the distance, dragging him back to the present. His breathing was choppy and erratic, his palms clammy.
He glanced at the murky water with a slow smile.
Widow Lake already held so many dead bodies.
It was the perfect place to leave another.
He had one in mind already.
