Kevin O'Brien - One Last Scream

The article ended with a quote from Annabelle’s friend and classmate, Erin Gottlieb:

“Annabelle was like a force of nature. She was so strong and determined. She never let anyone get in her way when she made her mind up to go after something, and you have to admire that. I guess it took another force of nature, like fire, to stop her.”

It struck George as a slightly cryptic epitaph, almost unflattering.

There was a coin slot at the side of the microfiche viewer and, for two quarters, George made a copy of each page. Then he returned the microfiche file to the reference desk, and asked for a local phone book.

He hoped Caroline Cadwell and Erin Gottlieb still lived in the area. Maybe Annabelle’s teacher and her friend could tell him something about Mrs. Schlessinger’s apparent suicide and Uncle Duane’s killing rampage. Maybe one of them knew about Annabelle’s twin sister.

She got Helene Sumner’s machine.

Karen waited for the beep, then started in: “Hello, Ms. Sumner. I’m Karen Carlisle, a friend of Amelia Faraday. I’m sorry to bother you, but-”

There was a click on the other end of the line. “Yes, hello,” the woman said. “This isn’t a reporter, is it?”

“No,” Karen said, suddenly sitting erect in her desk chair. “I’m a friend of Amelia Faraday. I’m calling from Seattle. She drove off early this morning in my car, a black Volkswagen Jetta. I’ve been trying to locate her. I was wondering-”

“Well, I can tell you where she was as of nine o’clock today,” Helene interrupted. “She was at their house, just down the lake from here. It’s got the police tape on the front door, but that didn’t stop her from going inside, though I suppose she has a right to go in there.”

“Then you saw her?”

“I heard screams,” Helene said. “That’s what got my attention. The sound travels across the water. I’ve been keeping an eye on the place. The police told me to report any trespassers. Well, I almost phoned them this morning when I heard the screaming and laughing over there. But then I got out the binoculars, and saw it was Amelia.”

“Just Amelia, and no one else?”

“I only saw her, though it sure sounded like someone else was there, maybe that boyfriend of hers.”

“Boyfriend?” Karen said. “You mean Shane?”

“I don’t know his name. I’m sorry. I know you’re Amelia’s friend, but…” Helene paused for a moment. “Are you in college with Amelia?”

“I’m Amelia’s therapist, Ms. Sumner,” Karen admitted.

“Well, then you must know, for someone so sweet and pretty, she has terrible taste in boyfriends.”

“Does he have black hair and wear sunglasses?” Karen asked.

“Yeah, that’s him. I’m sorry, I hate to say the word, but he looks like a pimp , what with his cheap suit and those sunglasses. But I didn’t see him today, just Amelia.”

“You said she was at the house around nine o’clock. Have you seen or heard anything over there since then?”

“No. She may have left. She may have gone back inside the house. I’m not sure.”

“Is there a black Jetta or an old Cadillac in the driveway?”

“They don’t have a driveway. There’s a short trail through the woods to the top of a hill, where the road is. The Faradays always parked their car in this inlet up there. Do you want me to go over to the house, and check if she’s-”

“No,” Karen cut her off. “No, please, don’t do that. It could be dangerous, especially if her boyfriend is there. I agree with you, Ms. Sumner. He’s a bad influence on Amelia. I don’t want you going over there. If you see him or Amelia anywhere on your property, you should call the police. I don’t mean to frighten you-”

“I’m sixty-seven years old, miss,” Helene said. “Not many things scare me anymore. I’ve lived alone in this house by the lake for the last nine years. I have a good watchdog and a loaded rifle. I’ll be all right.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Karen replied.

This was the only lead she had. And from what Amelia had told her, there was no way to get in touch with anyone at the lake house, except through Helene’s landline next door. Karen would have to drive three hours to Lake Wenatchee and hope Amelia was still there. She wondered if Blade was indeed with her this morning. Or was Amelia’s multiple personality disorder so severe that she was screaming and laughing over there by herself?

“Miss? Are you still there?”

“Um, yes, Ms. Sumner,” she said. “Can I ask you for one more favor? Could you give me directions to the Faradays’ house?”

“Have another hit,” she said, handing him the Wild Turkey bottle.

His hands on the oars, Shane grinned at her. “I think I’ve had enough. They say booze and boating is a bad mix.”

“This is a stupid little canoe,” she said, still offering him the half-drained pint bottle. “I don’t think it counts. C’mon, have another blast. It’ll warm you up.”

Shane shook his head. He already had a little buzz, and unlike Amelia, he knew his limits. Though so far, she’d downed surprisingly little for someone who had seemed bent on getting drunk less than an hour ago.

She was acting awfully strange, a total turnaround from last night. She’d been nervous and on edge throughout the movie and pizza, needy, but in a good way that made him feel like the most important person in the world. But then, since her bizarre visit with him this morning, she didn’t seem stressed out at all. She wasn’t making him feel needed, just manipulated and jerked around. That wasn’t like Amelia at all. Her flirting-the foot rubs, flashing him, the kisses, and her dirty talk-had all been a turn-on, yeah, but it all seemed like an act.

Last night, she hadn’t been able to tell him why the cops were waiting for her in her dorm lobby. She’d promised to explain later, and begged him to be patient with her. But when he’d pressed her about it again just a few minutes ago, she’d dismissed it, and said they were bugging her with more personal questions about her father. “I just didn’t feel like discussing my dad’s hang-ups with them again, that’s all,” she’d explained. “So screw them.”

She didn’t want to talk about Karen coming on to her last night either. At first she’d acted like Karen had attacked her or something. But now, in the boat, she didn’t seem too traumatized about it. Shane began to wonder if anything really did happen with Karen.

He glanced up at the darkening sky, the clouds almost obscuring Mount Rainier in the distance. “Looks like rain. We should head back,” he said, working the oars again.

“Party pooper,” she muttered. She put the cap back on the Wild Turkey bottle, then slipped it into her knapsack. She kept the knapsack in her lap. “What’s wrong with you today anyway?” she asked. “You’re acting totally weird.”

“ I’m acting weird?” Shane shot back.

She nodded. “You know, I should be really sore at you. This morning, I specifically asked you not to talk to Karen, and you talked to her anyway. Did you tell her about meeting me here today?”

“No. I didn’t tell her shit. I didn’t tell anyone.” He rowed more fervently. “I’m sorry, but this whole thing is totally schizoid. You show up at my window at dawn, dragging me out of bed. You’ve got me ditching psych class and renting a canoe, so we can schlep out here in the middle of the goddamn lake for this secret meeting. My favorite shoes are all wet, and we’re about to get rained on. And you’re telling me I’m acting weird, because I’m not exactly thrilled to be jumping through all these hoops for you….”

Her head bowed, she hugged her knapsack in her lap and quietly cried.