Kevin O'Brien - One Last Scream

“Do you think she might have driven up to the house in Bellingham?” Karen asked.

“Well, I have the phone number for Mark and Jenna’s neighbors up there,” George said. “Nice couple, Jim and Barb Church. I’ll give them a call, and find out if there’s any activity next door. You drive a black Jetta, right?”

“That’s right.” She heard a beep on the line. God, please, let it be Amelia , she thought.

“I’ll ask the Churches to keep their eyes peeled for your car,” he was saying.

“Just a second, George. I have another call.” She checked the caller ID, and then quickly got back on the line with George. “Oh, God, it’s this policewoman phoning, the third time. I’ve been dodging her all morning. They’ve been looking for Amelia since yesterday.”

“Listen, I think you better come clean and tell them what’s happening, Karen. You don’t want to get yourself into any more hot water with the police. Plus, at this stage, you aren’t doing Amelia any favors by not reporting this. I hate to even think it, but she could hurt somebody else.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said, feeling a pang in her already knotted-up stomach. Rufus tugged at the leash, and Karen let him drag her toward the edge of the garden. She wondered who would walk her dog if she ended up in jail for aiding and abetting a fugitive.

“I may try Shane one more time,” she said into the phone. “I had to call him three times before he finally picked up. And when I talked to him, I had a feeling he might have been holding back on something. Once you hear back from Amelia’s neighbors up in Bellingham, will you give me a call?”

“Will do,” he said. “By the way, I’ve been to the cemetery, and now I’m parked down the block from the public library in Salem. I need to look up some information. Has Amelia ever mentioned someone named Annabelle to you?”

“ Annabelle? No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure that’s her twin sister.”

“Amelia has a twin?” Karen murmured.

“ Had ,” he said, correcting her. “Annabelle died three years ago, the same day as her father. That’s why I’m here at the library. Maybe there’s something in the local newspaper archives about it.”

“She never mentioned a twin,” Karen muttered, almost to herself. Amelia had recalled sometimes talking to herself in the mirror as a child. Was that as close as she could come to remembering her twin sister?

While George explained about Joy Savitt and the Schlessinger graves, it suddenly seemed to make sense why Amelia had all these issues-the guilt, the low self-esteem, and the nightmares. At age four, her parents had discarded her, and kept her twin. But why?

“Listen, George, call me as soon as you find out anything,” she said, pulling Rufus on his leash as she headed toward the house. “I’ll see what I can dig up on the Internet. What was that date the father and daughter died again?”

July 13, 2004…

Lon Schlessinger…

Annabelle Schlessinger…

Joy Savitt Schlessinger

None of those keywords yielded a result on the search engines Karen had tried. There wasn’t anything in the Oregonian either. And nothing came up in the Salem Statesman Journal archives index. She hoped George might have better luck following a paper trail at the Salem library.

Karen glanced at her wristwatch: 11:20. She tried phoning Shane once more. He didn’t answer his cell. She left another message: “Hi, Shane, it’s Karen again. I still haven’t heard from Amelia, and I’m very worried. I’ve just talked with her uncle, and we both agree it’s time to call the police and tell them what’s happened. If you have any idea where Amelia is, please, please, call me back.”

Shane stopped rowing for a minute so he could listen to Karen’s message.

It was cool and overcast, with a breeze that made the lake slightly choppy, not exactly a great day to be out on the water. Nevertheless Shane had forked over his driver’s license and five bucks for the canoe rental. And now his was the only boat in this area of Lake Washington. He’d already crept by the Montlake Bridge, and was edging along the shore near the nature path. He saw two people fishing off one of the footbridges, but no one else.

He couldn’t believe Karen was ready to call the cops just because Amelia had borrowed her car. But it was more than that, he knew. Last night, Amelia had been singing Karen’s praises and, this morning, she’d told him not to trust her. It didn’t make sense.

Shane slipped the cell phone back in his jacket pocket, and recommenced rowing. He saw a little piece of land with grass and trees jutting out from the wild overgrowth along the shore. He started looking for Amelia. She’d told him she would be there, and she would explain what all this was about. But he didn’t see any sign of her, yet.

The water became a bit rough, and his canoe rocked back and forth as he rowed closer to Foster Island. The spot looked deserted. Shane pulled past some reeds and around a bend, where he found a clear spot to maneuver the boat into the shore. He felt the tip of the canoe hit the muddy bottom, then reluctantly he stepped into the water and tied up the boat to a tree trunk.

“Shit,” he muttered.

Even though he’d moved quickly from the muddy bank to the grass, his feet had been totally immersed in the frigid lake. His shoes were soaked, along with his socks and his jeans, from the knees down. “Damn it to hell,” he growled.

He heard her laughing in the distance.

Then he saw her, emerging from behind a tree. She was wearing the same lavender sweater she’d had on yesterday, and the black jeans he’d packed for her. She had her knap-sack slung over her shoulder. She looked very pretty, laughing, with her wavy black hair loose and windblown around her shoulders.

He snarled at her, but couldn’t help chuckling, too. “Well, Amelia, my feet are wet, my fucking toes are frozen, and I hope you’re happy.”

In response, she hoisted up her sweater to flash him her bare breasts. “Does that warm you up a little, baby?”

“Jesus,” he murmured with a startled grin. “What the hell has gotten into you today?”

She kissed him. “Right now, I think we both should be getting into this canoe before it floats away.” She grabbed him by the hand and started to lead him to the shore.

But Shane balked. “Hold on. Don’t you think you ought to tell me what’s happening? I mean, this is pretty bizarre. Karen’s called me four times this morning. She’s freaking out because you took her car, along with some money from her purse.”

“Karen’s a fucking liar.” She scowled at him. “Did you talk to her?”

He sighed. “Yeah, I took one of the calls. She’s really worried. The cops have been calling her about you. And she’s not a liar. You did take her car. I saw you drive away in it this morning from my place.”

“Well, I brought it right back to her house. And if she says I still have it, she’s lying. I can’t believe you talked to her after I asked you not to. You can’t trust her. I told you that.”

“Well, what the hell happened? Last night, you were all gaga for Karen, and today, she’s a lying skanky bitch. What did she do to you?”

“Can’t you guess?” she asked. “Isn’t it obvious? She couldn’t keep her goddamn hands off me all last night. And then she got really angry with me, because I didn’t want to have sex with her. To think, I trusted her and bared my soul to her and, all the while, she just wanted to get into my pants.”

“My God, you’re kidding,” he muttered.

“I’ll tell you all about it in the boat,” she said, stroking his cheek. “You’re the only one I can talk to about this. C’mon, baby, I just need to be with you right now, nobody else. Could you pick me up and carry me into the canoe? I promise to warm your feet for you later.”