The Lake

by Natasha Preston

  I walk into the night, the trees my only company. The air is warm and silent. I take light steps and look up when I hear a hoot. Damn owl nearly gave me a heart attack. It takes flight and swoops through the trees.

  I’ve been in the woods for about thirty seconds and I already regret my life choices.

  It’s dark as hell, the air is cooler than usual, and I’m alone.

  The dark and I don’t feel like friends anymore.

  I put one foot in front of the other, following the trodden man-made path toward town. I dressed in dark colors and left my flashlight on my bed, so I’m walking slowly.

  The less noise I make, the less likely Lillian is to find me. I think she and Rebekah have been coming from the other side of the lake, where the fire was.

  This was by far my dumbest idea since I was fourteen and thought a perm would look great. The curls were so tight, I looked like a poodle.

  The forest feels alive tonight. When I’m too far to hear any sounds from camp, I hear the soft breeze dancing between the trees. Small animals scurry away from me before I see them.

  When I reach the end of the forest, I roll my shoulders. I made it. I look around and cross the deserted road.

  The trees finally give way to houses—big stone houses with large, manicured lawns—and my shoulders lose tension.

  Rebekah’s house is right on the edge of town.

  I make a right and stop. My eyes flit to my phone screen, where the map is showing a dot for Rebekah’s house and another one for me.

  Besides a few people out walking, I don’t see anyone. No one gives me a second glance, probably because I’m not in camp clothing. I blend in. I’m even pretending that the heat isn’t making me want to run for the nearest AC.

  It takes me two minutes to walk around the block and come face to face with Rebekah’s house.

  Rebekah is wealthy.

  I walk up the drive, clutching my phone. Wiggling my fingers, I take a breath and press the doorbell.

  If Lillian answers now, I’m probably going to pass out.

  The lock on the door clicks and my muscles tense.

  A little old lady with rollers in her hair and wearing a fluffy pink robe answers the door. Definitely not Lillian.

  Rebekah’s nana?

  “Yes?”

  “Hi, um, my name is Chloe.” My little Pomeranian’s name. “My car broke down a block away. I’ve called Triple A and they’ll be here soon, but”—I hide my face with my hands—“ugh, this is so embarrassing, but I’m kind of desperate for the bathroom.”

  I drop my hands and smile.

  “Oh, sugar,” she drawls.

  “Would it be at all possible to use yours? Please?”

  “Of course. Come on in and I’ll show you where it is.”

  “Thank you.”

  She points to a dark wood door on the right. “Just there.”

  “I really appreciate this,” I tell her, and disappear into the bathroom.

  I lock the door, close my eyes and lean against the wall. Clawing at my suddenly itchy skin, I look around. I don’t want to be in this house for a second longer than necessary.

  Okay, you can do this. I need to find out as much as I can about Rebekah without making her nana suspicious.

  After a minute, I flush the toilet and wash my hands.

  When I come out of the bathroom, Rebekah’s nana pops around the corner. “Over here.”

  Okay, she’s inviting me deeper into the house.

  I walk into her little country kitchen.

  “Your house is lovely,” I tell her. Old people love it when you compliment their home. My nan goes full-on bashful.

  “Thank you, darlin’,” she replies. “Can I get you an iced tea?”

  “Oh, that would be awesome, if you don’t mind?”

  She waves her hand. “Of course not. Take a seat over there.”

  I do as I’m told and sit at the round table in the corner. From here I can see the living room. There are little pink flowers all over the sofas.

  On the wall behind me is a massive collage. There must be about fifty photos.

  “This all your family?” I ask.

  She looks over from the fridge. “Oh yes. I have five children and thirteen grandchildren. My first great-grandchild is due in the fall.”

  “You all look so happy,” I tell her, scouring the collage for pictures of Rebekah.

  And, bingo, there she is. Smiling in a picture with people I assume are her cousins. Her face steals my breath.

  “Do they all live close by?”

  “Oh, we’re scattered, I’m afraid. Every one of my children chose different colleges across the country. The grandchildren have done the same, but they all come back to visit.”

  “That’s good you get to see them.”

  She nods. “My granddaughter Rebekah spent some time here over a few summers, but she’s older now, so she’s got better things to do.”

  So that’s how Rebekah and Lillian know each other. They must have met when Rebekah came to stay with her grandma. They spent summers together plotting.

  “Are your grandkids coming this summer?”

  “Some of them might. Rebekah has an internship. Some accounting firm. She’s always been good with numbers.”

  Internship? That’s why she told her mom she was needed in the conference room.

  Wow, Rebekah’s nana doesn’t know she’s just ten minutes down the road. No wonder Rebekah was acting so shifty at the arcade and hiding in corners. She was afraid she’d be seen by locals.

  There are so many more questions I want to ask, but I’m very aware that it’s going to seem weird if I keep going. I don’t want her to call Rebekah and talk about the stranger whose car broke down and who asked lots of questions about her.

  I have what I need for now.

  I smile at Rebekah’s grandmother. “Thank you so much for letting me into your home. I should get going now. Triple A will be here soon.”

  “All right. You be careful out there at night, Chloe.”

  The night isn’t my problem. Your granddaughter is.

  47

  Sneaking out was fine. Well, fine-ish. Except I gave absolutely no thought to the fact that I have to get back.

  I’ve been gone for about an hour. Kayla is on the lookout, and I haven’t had any message or a call to say that she’s seen something. Our bedroom has a great view of the path toward town. She was in the best place to see Rebekah and Lillian.

  You are fine.

  It’s dark. I’m at the edge of the forest, staring at the trail as if it’s going to bite me.

  I’ve always loved adventure. On every vacation with my parents I’m the one who wants to explore the area and go on day trips.

  I can now confirm that adventure is highly overrated.

  Give me my sofa, snacks and Netflix any day.

  Is the forest thicker than it was an hour ago? The damn thing is alive and growing. Maybe the forest doesn’t forget either.

  One foot. Just move one foot.

  You can’t stand here all night!

  I step into the mist.

  I want to move that foot backward and head to the bus station. I could be at the airport in a little over an hour. Of course, with no ID, I can’t actually get on a plane.

  Whatever my next move is, I have to go back to camp and get my stuff. And I can’t leave Kayla on her own. I have to stay with her. Bestie solidarity and all that. I can’t leave Olly and Jake either. We’re all here for a reason.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand as I realize something: why Lillian is doing this now. In one of my first conversations with Olly, he mentioned that he also got a CIT pamphlet. He probably got the same one I did, with the creepy threat on the back. Lillian must have sent one to all of us
. Jake had to have seen what happened that night for Lillian to send him a pamphlet.

  Which means Lillian knows that Olly and Jake were there the night of the accident.

  I have to get back to camp to warn them.

  Tapping my fingers against my legs, I take a deep breath, inhaling a lungful of courage and dewy air.

  I step forward slowly and take one last look over my shoulder before I walk into the woods.

  The air is heavy. I feel like I could choke on it.

  I squint to see more clearly as I follow the little trail and try to keep my eyes everywhere. Literally. I swivel my head from left to right constantly, looking for Rebekah or Lillian through a thin screen of mist.

  I want to curl up and make myself as small as I can, but I don’t want to look like I’m scared. If Lillian is out there, at least she can’t hear or feel the thumping of my heart.

  Ahead of me, something rustles.

  I dash to a tree and plant myself against it. Jagged bark digs into my back. I cower as my heart pulses. It could easily be an animal. It’s probably an animal.

  Stepping around the tree, I make my way to the next one, almost tripping over my feet.

  No falling!

  The noise is gone. I’m sure it was a deer. The poor thing is probably in danger too.

  Crunch.

  I whip my head around. That was behind me.

  Gasping, I turn and bolt toward camp.

  I dodge trees, steeling myself for the flash of a camera…or worse. Nothing comes. I sprint, my sides burning with the exertion.

  I break through the trees and sob. I’m back. I’m safe.

  Stumbling, I slow and creep toward the cabin, I wipe my tears and keep to the wall, bracing myself against it. When I reach the window, something sitting on the windowsill catches my eye.

  A little roll of white paper. I gulp and curl my hand around it and stuff it into my pocket.

  Kayla unlocks and opens the window when she spots me. I haul myself up and Kayla grabs my arms to help me in.

  “You okay?”

  I nod. “Fine. Nothing happened. Rebekah’s nana was lovely but said nothing we didn’t already know. Rebekah knows the area and must have met Lillian here.”

  “Sorry you had to do that.”

  “It’s fine. I’m going to get some sleep.”

  I get ready for bed clumsily but in record time and climb the bunk ladder with the rolled-up paper still in my palm.

  With a yawn, I get under the blanket and lie down.

  The thick paper is soft between my fingertips as I peel it open.

  Squinting, I read the red ink on the paper.

  Nothing you do goes unnoticed—LC

  The writing is neat and tall, with slashes that spike at the end of each letter. I press my lips together as fear runs ice-cold through my veins.

  Not only did she know that I’d snuck out and leave a note on the windowsill, but she probably followed me too.

  Lillian or Rebekah must have crawled on the ground close to the wall so Kayla wouldn’t see them plant the note.

  Did Lillian follow me to Rebekah’s nana’s house? I was careful to check my surroundings. I didn’t get that twitchy feeling like someone was watching me.

  I gulp.

  She’s everywhere.

  Maybe she realized I was gone when it was too late for her to follow me, and now she’s trying to freak me out. She knew I was up to something. The fact that she hasn’t burned the camp to the ground proves that she knows I haven’t gone to the cops. I would expect more of a retaliation if she thought I’d spent the evening at the police station.

  “Did you see anyone while I was out there?” I whisper in the darkness.

  “No one at all,” Kayla replies, handing me a bottle of water. She takes a sip from hers. “What was Rebekah’s nana like? How did you get in?”

  I take a long swig of water. “I pretended that my car broke down and I needed to use her bathroom. Thank the Lord for Southern hospitality. She invited me in and made me iced tea.”

  “What did you find out?”

  “Rebekah stayed with her nana for a few summers.”

  “So that’s how Lillian met Rebekah.”

  “Yep.” I cover my yawn with the back of my hand. “Man, I’m so tired.”

  “Wait, you can’t go to sleep yet. What else did you find out?”

  “Not a lot. I wanted to bring up Rebekah’s burns, but I didn’t know how to without it sounding weird. Her nana thinks that Rebekah is interning at some accounting firm.”

  “She really doesn’t know she’s here?”

  “Not a clue. I doubt anyone does.”

  Kayla laughs humorlessly. “God.”

  I down the last of the water. “I’m really mad. Lillian should just talk to us if she’s pissed.”

  And, of course, we should have said something ten years ago. That doesn’t justify what they’re doing now, though. They’re not just messing with me and Kayla anymore, they’re messing with all of us.

  “I was thinking…I think we should try to leave a note for her.” Kayla says.

  “That’s risky. We can’t have any evidence of us contacting her.”

  “We don’t have to write ‘Love, Esme and Kayla’ at the end.”

  I scratch an itch on the back of my head. “Right, but wouldn’t it be obvious?”

  “We can’t keep quiet and take all of this for another four weeks, Esme.”

  God, that’s a long time when you’re being terrorized.

  “I’m with you there. When we talk to her it has to be face to face.”

  “When? Everyone is so on edge. We play games and roast marshmallows, but we’re also constantly looking into the forest.”

  “I don’t know when.”

  Kayla’s looking at me for all of the answers when I don’t have a single one. How should I know how to handle this situation? This is the first time I’ve been threatened.

  We do need to start beating Lillian at her own game, though. We have to get ahead of her and turn this around.

  There’s no reason why we can’t play too.

  What we did is going to come out eventually. Going along with her crazy is only prolonging the inevitable.

  Making that leap is scary. I like the people I’m here with, and I’m scared of how they’re going to see me and Kayla when they find out the truth.

  Lillian left her creepy little note for me. Maybe Kayla and I can get a camera and set it up to catch her? I need to know when she’s in our room and what she does here.

  I blink heavily, my eyes begging me to close them. My head is swimming. Rubbing my forehead, I groan. I’m getting a headache or I’m getting sick.

  Being ill right now is the last thing I need. I have to be on my A game. No, E game, because Esme is going to take Lillian down.

  I frown as my muscles turn so heavy, I can barely lift a finger.

  My eyes close and I’m gone.

  48

  Groaning, I rub my foggy head and roll over.

  The mattress is cold and damp.

  What…?

  My eyes flick open and for a second, I see a blur of brown and green and white.

  When my vision sharpens, the first thing I see clearly is moss.

  Gasping, I jolt and scramble to my feet.

  I’m in the forest.

  I stumble to a tree, frowning as my brain tries to catch up.

  Kayla and I were talking and then we went to sleep. What happened?

  My back hits a tree and I glance around. The forest is silent, eerily silent.

  I shake my foggy head as my heart races.

  Lillian. The crazy bitch drugged me.

  How? It couldn’t have happened at Rebekah’s nana’s house. It’s been too long.
I think. I don’t really know how long it takes to drug a person.

  My pulse whooshes loudly in my ears.

  Stay calm. Stay. Calm.

  I have to get back.

  Lillian will be watching.

  Taking long breaths in and out, I try to ground myself as my stomach flips.

  Don’t give in.

  She’s here. How else would I have ended up out here?

  All I have to do is show her that I’m not afraid. That I’m not interested in her game and I’m not feeding into whatever sick fantasy she’s trying to play out here.

  I retch silently.

  I want to run and scream and leave.

  What do I fear most, Lillian or letting Lillian win? Letting her win. Though the other is a very close second.

  Lillian is a hunter, and I’m her prey.

  I curl my hands into fists and feel something like dried paint on them.

  My body tenses.

  No, please no.

  Slowly, I raise my trembling hands in front of me. They’re red. I look down and see dark splatters on my white pajama top.

  Blood.

  Oh God. Whose blood is it?

  I frantically swipe my hands down my top, but it does little to get the dried blood off.

  I look up, my head swiveling in every direction.

  Where is she?

  Clamping my teeth together, I take long breaths so I don’t hyperventilate.

  Stay calm. Breathe. Think.

  Somehow, I need to get back. Lillian put me here, so there must be evidence of the path she used.

  You can do this. Focus, Esme.

  I crouch down and trace my footprints back to the imprint my body left in the moss. I run my hand over the dip where my head was. This is where she left me.

  I look around. Which direction did they carry or drag me from?

  There. Two sets of footprints pressed into the mud and moss. They’re not deep, so I must have been out here a while. It’s still dark; I can only just see in front of me.

  You. Can. Do. This.

  I have to get back to camp before sunrise.

  Crawling on my hands and knees, I find the next set of footprints and the next.