Kevin O'Brien - One Last Scream

“What the…” he muttered, crawling out of bed. He staggered across the cluttered room in his underpants. The tapping continued.

Some of the venetian blind slats were bent and broken and, through the gaps, he could see who was out there. He immediately raised the blinds, and then tugged the window open. He had to crouch so that he could talk to her face-to-face. “Amelia, sweetheart, what’s going on?” he asked, in a groggy voice.

She wore a rain slicker and stood on her tiptoes. “Sorry to wake you,” she whispered. “I just had to see you, baby.”

He started to straighten up. “Well, go around to the kitchen door, and I’ll let you in.”

“No, no, I can’t stay. Karen’s practically holding me prisoner at her place. She doesn’t know I’m gone. I need to get back there and sneak in before she wakes up.”

He crouched down again and hovered by the open window. “Shit, you shouldn’t have to stay there if you don’t want to….”

She smiled. “It’s okay. But I need to meet you later, someplace where we can be alone, with no one else around. You know that boat place by Husky Stadium?”

“You mean where they rent canoes?”

She nodded. “I want you to rent one and take it out on Lake Washington to Foster Island, near the Arboretum. It’s over past the Museum of History and Industry-”

“I remember where it is,” he interrupted. “We’ve been there before.” Foster Island was a secluded little patch of land accessible by a long, winding, nature path that included a few footbridges. They’d had a picnic there during the summer.

“Good. I’ll meet you out there at eleven-thirty.”

“Oh, shit,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’ve got my psychology class at eleven.”

She frowned. “Can’t you skip it for me ? This is important.”

He hesitated. “Sure, I guess.”

“I knew I could count on you. Don’t tell anyone you’re meeting me or mention where you’re going. And that includes Karen. I don’t trust her anymore.”

“What?” He let out a dazed laugh. “But you love Karen. You were just bending my ear last night over pizza about how goddamn wonderful she is.”

She shook her head. “Not anymore. If Karen calls you, don’t even pick up.”

“Well, why go back there if you don’t trust her? Why all the secrecy? I don’t get this, Amelia….”

“I’ll explain everything to you on Foster Island at eleven-thirty, and take a canoe out there. It’s very important. Will you just do it for me, please?”

“Of course,” he murmured. He didn’t understand any of this. Most of all, he couldn’t understand her. She wasn’t acting like herself. “Of course, I’ll be there,” he reiterated.

“Thanks, baby,” she said. Reaching up, she ran her fingers through his messy, light brown hair, then pulled his head down to her. She gave him a long kiss, and slipped her tongue into his mouth. He wanted more, but she pulled away.

“Sorry, I’ve got morning breath,” he whispered with a little laugh.

“It’s okay,” she grinned and licked her lips. “Do you have morning wood, too?”

Indeed he did. He’d woken up-as usual-with a morning hard-on, which had been revived by that arousing kiss. Shane blushed.

She giggled. “Stand up straight, so I can see it.”

He was obedient. “Little Shane’s standing up straight, too, babe.”

She reached inside the window, and fondled his erection through his underpants. She made this moaning sound he’d never heard her make before. He was embarrassed, but very turned on at the same time.

“I want more of that later,” she purred, giving him one final, gentle tug.

Then she suddenly turned around and hurried toward the alley off the backyard. In a stupor, Shane watched her duck inside a black Jetta. It looked like her therapist’s car. The engine started up, and the car drove away.

Shane’s erection quickly subsided as he stood there in the window. He remembered something Karen had told him the previous afternoon. “You need to keep an eye on her. If you notice a sudden change in her or a severe mood swing, call me.”

For a few moments, Shane thought about calling Karen, maybe waking her up, and telling her what had just happened.

But he went back to sleep, instead.

The phone woke her up.

Blurry eyed, Karen glanced at the clock on her nightstand: 8:32 A.M. She hadn’t meant to sleep this late. But after almost shooting her own houseguest in the predawn hours, she’d been so shaken up, she’d just tossed and turned. She must have nodded off at some point, because Rufus had awoken her with some sudden and inexplicable barking at around 5:45. Then, just as suddenly, he’d gone back to sleep. But Karen hadn’t been quite as lucky. The last time she’d looked at the clock, it was 6:41.

At least she’d gotten nearly two uninterrupted hours. Still, she’d overslept-and the damn phone was ringing.

Propping herself up on one elbow, Karen reached for the cell phone on her nightstand. She didn’t recognize the caller number. She cleared her throat, then switched it on. “Hello?”

“Karen Carlisle?”

“Yes. Who’s calling?”

“This is Jacqueline Peyton with the Seattle Police. I spoke with you yesterday.”

Karen quickly sat up. She felt a pang of dread in her gut. They must have found Koehler’s body. Despite everything that had happened in those woods last night, Karen still clung to some hope that Koehler was still alive. As of 7:00 last night, there had been no body, and only speculation. She wondered if that was all about to change.

“Ms. Carlisle?” the policewoman asked.

“Yes, I’m here,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “How can I help you?”

“We’ve been trying to locate Amelia Faraday ever since we spoke with you yesterday afternoon. She hasn’t been to her dorm. She isn’t answering her phone. We’ve talked with her roommate, her boyfriend, and her uncle, and none of them have any idea where she is. I was wondering if you might have heard from her.”

Karen hesitated. “Um, is this about Detective Koehler? Is he still missing?”

“I’m afraid so, yes. We think Amelia Faraday might have been one of the last people to see him, after you, that is.”

“I see,” was all Karen could think to say.

“Has Amelia contacted you? Do you have any idea where we might be able to reach her?

“Um, you know, I–I might be able to help you,” Karen stammered. “But I just woke up, and I’m a little out of it right now. I was up late last night. Could I get back to you in about twenty minutes, Jacqueline? I have your number here on my cell. Could I phone you back?”

“That would be fine. I’ll be waiting to hear from you,” she replied.

“Talk to you soon,” Karen said, and then she clicked off. “God help me.”

She threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. Rufus barked once and got to his feet. He scurried after Karen, down the hallway toward the guest room. All the while, Karen thought about how much she hated lying to the police. And yet here she was, doing just that. If she could hold them off for just two hours, she’d get Amelia to Dr. Richards. She’d have an expert opinion on Amelia’s condition. It could help their case. Despite everything, Karen still believed Amelia was innocent on some level.

“Amelia?” she called. “Amelia, are you up?”

No response. The bathroom door was open. No one was in there. She didn’t hear anyone downstairs.

Karen got to the guest room doorway and stopped dead. The bed was unmade and empty. Amelia’s clothes and her knapsack were gone.

But the sleep machine was still churning out the sounds of ocean waves and seagulls in flight.