PROLOGUE
Sitting at the wheel of his family
station wagon, Ray Corson watched the gas gauge needle hover at
empty. The red warning light flashed on, and he felt his stomach
tighten.
He’d been driving for the last hour,
making several loops around Seattle’s Montlake neighborhood. Part
of his route wound through the Arboretum along the edge of Lake
Washington. But on this rainy April night, Ray couldn’t see the
water beyond all the shadowy trees. It was just murky
blackness.
At a stoplight, he caught his
reflection in the rearview mirror. People often mistook him for
someone in his early thirties. At forty-two, Ray loved hearing
that. His wavy brown hair hadn’t yet turned gray. It helped that he
stayed in shape running laps around the high school track every
weeknight; or perhaps just being around all those teenagers kept
him thinking young.
But Ray hadn’t been to the school in
months. He couldn’t go back there.
That probably explained why the
reflection in the rearview mirror was of someone who looked old,
haggard—and frightened.
With a sigh, Ray leaned back and
cracked the window a bit. His three-year-old son had stepped on a
half-full juice box in the backseat over a week ago, and the car
still had the sickeningly sweet smell of Hawaiian Punch gone
bad.
The light changed, and he drove on. The
fresh air revitalized him, and he took a few deep, calming breaths.
He was about to drive past the Arboretum’s parking area again. The
two light posts didn’t quite illuminate the entire lot, which was
about the size of a basketball court. Beyond it lay the woods and
the lake. The lot was empty right now. No one in their right mind
would be at the Arboretum on such a cold, crummy, wet
night.
Still, Ray kept his eyes peeled for a
parked car—or maybe the silhouette of a man at the edge of that
lot.
He suddenly realized his car was
veering off the road. Tires squeaked against the curb and gravel
ricocheted against the station wagon’s chassis. Startled, Ray
twisted the wheel to one side and swerved back into his
lane.
His heart was racing. “Chill out, for
chrissakes,” he muttered to himself. He’d thought by now he would
be at peace with what was about to happen. But he was still
scared.
Ray figured he was good for one more
loop around the neighborhood before the station wagon would start
to fail on him. He glanced in the rearview mirror at the parking
lot again. Then he checked the clock on the dashboard: 12:49
A.M.
He needed to be back there eleven
minutes from now.
It would be the end of so many of his
problems—including the whole mess at James Monroe High School,
where he’d been a guidance counselor. The tension and turmoil with
Jenna would be in the past. Jenna and the kids would be covered
financially. And maybe his runaway sixteen-year-old daughter would
even come home once everything was over and done with.
Ray lowered the window farther and felt
the cool rain on his face. He smelled the night air and gazed at
the trees swaying along the roadside. All of his senses were
suddenly heightened as he took his last loop around the area.
Everything seemed so beautiful, each moment so precious. He started
to cry; he couldn’t help it.
Just as he’d figured, the station wagon
began to sputter as he approached the small parking lot for the
ninth time. Wiping the tears from his face, Ray steered into the
lot, parked the car, and left the engine running.
The wipers squeaked against the
windshield, and rain tapped on the car roof. Ray tipped his head
back against the headrest of the driver’s seat. He gazed over
toward the shadowy edge of the lot. He couldn’t see it now, but
somewhere there in the darkness began a dirt trail. It wove through
the trees and shrubs, down to the lake.
He remembered parking his beat-up red
VW bug in this same spot on a warm May night nearly twenty years
ago. He and Jenna had been sophomores at the University of
Washington, out on their first date.
Ray had been admiring her from afar
ever since freshman year, when he’d spotted her at a kegger,
dancing with this nerdy guy who couldn’t keep up with her. The
long-haired, pretty brunette was so sexy and uninhibited. Every
once in a while she whispered into her dance partner’s ear, and Ray
figured that guy was the luckiest son of a bitch at the party. Ray
was so enamored of her that it took him a while to notice her dance
partner had one of those shriveled arms resembling a bird wing. And
yet he looked so damn happy. Ray kept thinking, she
could have any dude in the room, and she picked that guy. It
didn’t make her a saint, but it certainly made her more
interesting. For nine months, he looked for her in the cafeteria or
at different parties. Unfortunately, when he spotted her on
occasion, he never got up the nerve to talk with her. She was
always surrounded by guys.
Then they’d ended up in the same
English lit class, and he’d finally had an excuse to approach Jenna
and ask her out on a date.
Ray paced himself when they split a
bottle of red wine in her dorm room. He didn’t want to get drunk
and smash up his VW on their way to dinner. They ate at My
Brother’s Pizza in Wallingford. She loved that he had a car, and
wanted to go for a drive afterward. While they aimlessly drove
around Montlake, Madison Park, and Capitol Hill, Jenna talked and
talked and talked. He loved listening to her, and he loved the
subtle, flowery scent of her perfume in his car. At one point, she
put her hand on his knee and confessed, “Ever since I first saw you
in Converse’s English lit class, I’ve thought you were super cute.
. . .”
After that, Jenna could have said
anything. He didn’t care where they were going. He would have
driven to the end of the earth with her if she wanted.
“Well, um, the feeling’s mutual,” Ray
managed to reply. He tried to keep his eyes on the road. But her
hand was still on his knee, and he felt his erection
stirring.
It shrank a bit as Jenna told him about
some of the other guys she’d been with—and how horrible they’d
treated her. She’d even made a little doll resembling one guy who
had really screwed her over, and she used to stick pins in it. She
confessed that in high school she’d tried to kill herself twice—the
first time with sleeping pills, and the second effort, with a razor
blade. Both times she’d called a friend immediately after the final
swallow or slash.
“Why did you do it?” Ray whispered,
tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
“Call my friend?” she asked. “Or why
did I try to kill myself?”
“Both.”
She pulled away from him a bit. Jenna
leaned her head against the half-open window and gazed out at the
road. Her dark hair blew in the wind. “I guess it seemed like the
only way I could take control of things, and—I don’t know—get out.
. . .”
“Get out of what?”
She shrugged. “Bad relationships,
mostly—and other things, too.”
“No guy’s worth killing yourself over,
Jenna,” Ray murmured, glancing at her. “You must have figured that
out. Is that why you called your friend?”
Still staring outside, she shook her
head. “No, I just didn’t want to die all alone.” She let out a sad,
little laugh. “But instead of coming over and keeping me company,
my stupid friend called the police.”
“Well, I for one am glad she did,” Ray
said.
Jenna was quiet for a moment. “You’re
right about the guys,” she said at last. “Both those times, they
were total jerks. They didn’t really love me. They were just using
me. You know, I’m a firm believer in karma. They’ll get
theirs—eventually. Time wounds all heels.”
Ray managed to laugh. He didn’t quite
know what to think—or where this night would go. The gorgeous
creature sitting across from him was pretty screwed up. But he
liked her. She was vulnerable and sweet—and in need of someone to
rescue her. Ray wanted to be that someone.
Jenna also had a hell of a lot more
experience than him. Ray couldn’t help feeling intimidated by that.
If things got sexual later on—and he was hoping they would—then,
she might find him pretty inept in the lovemaking department. He’d
been so crazy about her for so long, he didn’t want to disappoint
her.
Jenna scooted over toward him again,
and he breathed in the smell of her perfume. She nudged him.
“Y’know, you’re the first person I’ve told about my suicide
attempts—at least, the first person here at the U.” She rested her
head on his shoulder, and fingered the buttons of his blue oxford
shirt. “I meant it when I said that I can really talk to you, Ray.
. . .”
She giggled. “God, I didn’t mean to get
so serious on you! We should do something fun. It’s so beautiful
and warm out. We should go swimming. . . .”
Eyes on the road, Ray thought for a
moment. Back in September, he and two other guys from the dorm had
gone skinny-dipping in the Arboretum late one warm Friday night.
They’d had a blast. At the time, Ray kept thinking how sexy it
would be to share this naked, moonlight swim with a
girl.
“Well, there’s the Arboretum,” he heard
himself say. “This time of night, we’d probably have the place to
ourselves. . . .”
“God, that sounds fantastic!” Jenna
replied. Then she kissed him on the neck. “Let’s do it, let’s do
it. . . .” Laughing, she pulled away, then leaned out her window
and let out a howl.
Jenna had two Jack Daniel’s miniatures
in her purse. She guzzled down one on their way to the Arboretum,
and the other Ray helped her finish off once they’d parked the
car.
Ray’s stomach was in nervous knots as
they walked down the dark, winding dirt path toward the lake. At
the same time, he was incredibly turned on. Neither one of them had
said anything yet about swimsuits—or the lack thereof.
He wondered if she’d keep on her bra
and panties to go swimming. Maybe once they reached the lake, if he
quickly undressed down to nothing, she’d follow his
lead.
They came to a field, where Ray could
see the lake ahead, its silvery ripples glimmering in the
moonlight. A huge tree loomed at the edge of the shore—some of the
branches dipping down into the water. Ray remembered there was a
rope hanging from a high limb. He and his dorm buddies had swung
from it and jumped into the water several times. The 520 bridge
nearby had an arterial route that had never been completed. The
abandoned, blocked-off piece of road veered off the bridge and
abruptly ended over this secluded section of the lake.
“Oh, good!” she declared. “No one else
is around! It’s just us. . . .”
Ray didn’t hear any laughter, chatter,
or water splashing. She was right. They were alone here. It was
what he wanted, but also a little scary. He’d heard stories about
drug deals, muggings, and all sorts of creepy goings-on at the
Arboretum late at night. The rural oasis in the middle of the city
seemed the perfect place for some senseless, grisly
murder.
The last time here at night with his
three pals, Ray hadn’t been worried. But this was a totally
different scenario, because he was here alone with a beautiful
girl—and he had to protect her.
As they ventured toward the lake, Jenna
seemed oblivious to the potential hazards. Weaving a bit as she
walked, she half-sang and half-hummed a Eurythmics tune: “Sweet
dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree?” She started to run
ahead of him. Ray watched her pull her T-shirt over her head, and
then she shook out her long brown hair. Her skin almost looked blue
in the moonlight. His mouth open, he gaped at her as she reached
back and unhooked her bra.
“No one else is around,” she said
again. “This is perfect, Ray . . . perfect . . .”
Ray started to undress, too. Jenna was
already naked—and at the water’s edge. Tossing aside her clothes,
she let out a scream and plunged into the lake. Ray got only a
brief glimpse of her beautiful, ripe ass before the water came up
to her waist. Then she was completely submerged.
Ray shucked down his jeans and
undershorts. He hurried into the cold water to catch up with her,
but she hadn’t resurfaced yet. The soft bottom of the lake felt
slimy between his toes as he made his way toward deeper water. He
kept glancing around for her, wondering where she’d swum off to.
For a few moments, he panicked—until, finally, she bobbed up, and
grabbed the rope that hung from a branch of the huge
tree.
Ray felt at once relieved and awestruck
by the sight of her. She took his breath away. She was a vision
with her long, wet hair slicked back, and her flawless, creamy
skin. Her breasts were small, and her nipples—hard from the cold
water—looked like gumdrops.
Jenna smiled at him. “If you can catch
me,” she called playfully, “you can have me as your love slave!
I’ll do anything for you!”
Ray broke into a grin. “Then prepare to
be caught, wench!” he announced, trying to sound like a
swashbuckling pirate. He started toward her, keeping his head above
water so he wouldn’t miss one moment of her in the
moonlight.
Jenna scowled at him. “Did you just
call me a bitch?”
“No, I said, wench . .
. wench!” he explained, a little out of breath. “I was
like—joking, y’know? I’d never seriously. . . .”
Jenna let out a squeal, then splashed
him in the face.
Momentarily blinded, Ray heard her
swimming away and singing again, “Everybody’s looking for
something. Some of them want to use you . .
.” Blinking, he turned and saw her backstroking farther into
the deep end, toward the unfinished arterial road off the 520
bridge. He glanced back at the shore to make sure their clothes
were still there. He saw them, still in a pile by the big
tree.
But Ray saw something else on the
shore, too—something or someone.
The pinpoint of light in the darkness
was far away, maybe in the meadow or perhaps in the parking lot. He
couldn’t tell if it was someone with a flashlight—or a single
headlight. Whatever it was, the thing seemed to be coming toward
them and getting brighter. Then suddenly it
disappeared.
Ray stared off into the darkness for
another few moments. But he didn’t see the strange, solitary light
again.
All at once, everything was quiet. He
couldn’t hear Jenna singing or splashing in the water anymore. Ray
swiveled around and gaped at the end of the aborted roadway jutting
over the lake. Jenna was hoisting herself up to one of the support
beams. “What are you doing?” he called. “Jenna, are you
nuts?”
He swam toward her as fast as he could.
But he wasn’t the best swimmer. He lost all sense of direction when
his head was underwater. After several frenzied strokes, Ray paused
to catch his breath and see where he was going. He’d veered away
from the bridge. But he spotted Jenna climbing over the guardrail
to the unfinished section of road.
She paused at the abrupt edge, about
ten or twelve feet over the water. Headlights from passing cars on
the bridge briefly illuminated her lean, nude silhouette. She
looked so defiant, uninhibited, and utterly gorgeous as she stood
there. Ray was mesmerized—until she slowly raised her hands over
her head. He could see she was preparing to dive, and a panic swept
through him.
His dad’s best friend in high school
was paralyzed after diving into a quarry and hitting a boulder. Ray
imagined blocks of concrete under the water by that unfinished
road. “Don’t dive in there, Jenna!” he called, swimming toward her.
He got water in his mouth and nose, and he began to cough. “You—you
could get hurt! It’s too dangerous. . . .”
“I don’t care,” she replied, a tremor
in her voice. It sounded like she was crying. “It doesn’t matter. .
. .”
Helplessly, he watched her push off
from the edge. She executed a flawless dive, plunging into the
lake’s placid surface with only a small splash. Ray anxiously
waited for her to emerge again, but there was no sign of her for
several, long, unendurable moments.
He imagined having to carry her limp
nude body all the way to the car, and then speeding to the UW
Hospital.
“Jenna?” he called out, glancing
around. He didn’t see her near the shore. But he noticed the little
point of light again—closer than before, yet still too far away for
him to figure out what it could be.
Right now, he was more concerned about
Jenna. He knew she was drunk; but her mood swings were absolutely
nuts. Just five minutes ago she’d been so excited, laughing and
singing and flirting with him. Then up on the edge of that
unfinished road, he could have sworn she was sobbing. Was she
trying to commit suicide again?
For all he knew, she’d just succeeded.
It had been at least a minute since Jenna had plunged into the inky
water—and she still hadn’t resurfaced.
“Jenna?” he yelled, frazzled. “Goddamn
it, Jenna . . .”
He turned at the sound of splashing
water and saw her clutching on to the rope again. This time, there
was nothing sexy about it. She was crying and gasping for
air.
“Are you okay?” Ray asked, swimming
toward her.
She didn’t answer him. She started to
pull herself up the rope.
“Jenna, what the hell is going on?” he
called. “Why are you acting like this?”
She didn’t even glance at him. A
determined expression on her face, Jenna continued to shimmy up the
rope. He was amazed at her strength and agility. He knew guys back
in high school gym class—even a few of the jocks—who had trouble
with the rope climb. Yet Jenna pulled herself up, passing the lower
branches. He heard her sobbing the whole time.
“What are you doing?” Ray called,
heading toward the shore now. “For God’s sake, Jenna, you’re going
too high!”
She disappeared amid the top branches
of the tree. But he could still hear her crying.
Naked and shivering, Ray staggered onto
the muddy bank. He spotted her again, standing on one of the high
branches. Jenna was shivering, too. She still held on to the rope
and braced herself against another limb. She hoisted up the thick,
braided cord, and then took the slack and wrapped it around her
neck.
“Oh, Jesus, no,” Ray murmured,
horrified. He raced to the tree and began climbing it. The branches
and rough bark scratched his bare feet and scraped against his
naked torso. But he pressed on, grabbing one limb and then another,
struggling to reach her before she jumped. “NO!” he yelled with
what little breath he had.
She gazed down at him. The rope was
twisted around her neck.
“Please, Jenna,” he gasped, climbing to
a higher branch. “Even if you’re kidding, cut it out. You’re giving
me a heart attack here. I don’t want—I don’t want anything bad
happening to you. Why are you doing this anyway?”
Numbly, she stared back at him. “Why
not?” she muttered. “Who would care?”
“I would, I’d care!” he answered,
pulling himself up to the same branch as her. She backed
away—farther out on the limb. He didn’t want to scare her off, so
he stayed close to the base of the tree. “Listen, if you’re doing
this for some kind of attention, you don’t need to. You’ve always
had my attention, Jenna. If—if I see you in a room, you’re all I
see. I gotta tell you, I—I’m crazy about you.” He clung to the tree
branch and let out a frightened laugh. “And I’d be really pissed if
I lost you this early in the game. . . .”
Jenna cracked an uncertain little
smile. “You like me?” she asked quietly.
He nodded. “A lot—even when you’re
acting weird, like now. In fact, it makes me like you even more.
How screwed up is that?”
She wiped the tears from her eyes and
managed to laugh. “Pretty screwed up . . .”
“We make a terrific pair,” he said.
Despite the fact that she stood precariously on that limb with a
rope wound around her neck, Ray couldn’t help looking at Jenna’s
beautiful breasts, her long limbs, and that triangle of dark pubic
hair.
He noticed she was looking him up and
down, as well. She started to unwrap the thick cord from around her
neck.
Then she suddenly lost her
footing.
Ray heard a branch snap. Jenna let out
a shriek. Her arms flailing, she teetered to one side. The rope was
still partially looped around her neck as she started to
fall.
Paralyzed, Ray watched her careen down
toward the lake. Twigs cracked and broke as her body hit them on
the way down. For a few moments, everything was a blur. Ray didn’t
recall scrambling out on the limb and then diving into the lake to
rescue her. He just remembered plunging into the water, then
bobbing up to the surface and gasping for air.
Jenna was only a few feet away, amid a
whirlpool of leaves and twigs. She held her forehead and laughed
while treading water. Somehow, the last loop of the rope had
uncoiled during her fall. He noticed some blood on her elbow—and
fresh scratch marks on her arms. But her neck and face were
unmarred.
“My God, are you okay?” he asked,
wiping the water and snot from his nose.
Nodding, she drifted toward him. “I
can’t believe you dove in after me,” she murmured. “Do you know how
high that was? You risked your life for me. . . .”
She put her arm around him, then kissed
him.
Ray was too numb to feel aroused.
Exhausted, they clung to each other and made their way to the
shore. He kept checking her arms for cuts and scratch marks. Jenna
said she’d be okay. As they both emerged from the water, they
paused to catch their breath. They gazed at each
other.
Her eyes seemed to focus on his torso.
She gently touched his hip. “You nicked yourself, poor baby,” she
whispered.
Ray glanced down at a scrape mark along
his right rib cage.
“Should I kiss it and make it better?”
she whispered.
Before he could answer, she bowed down.
He felt her warm breath against his cold, wet skin as she planted
kisses along his rib cage. Ray shuddered gratefully. He was about
to close his eyes.
But he noticed that solitary light
again—coming closer.
“Wait, no . . . wait, Jenna, no,” he
whispered, pulling her up. “Someone’s coming. . . .”
She looked out toward the meadow—toward
the beam of light. “What is that?”
Ray urgently pulled her toward the base
of the tree, where they’d left their clothes. “Let’s get dressed,
c’mon. . . .” He reached for his undershorts.
“What is that?” she repeated. Then she
called out, “Who’s there? Is somebody there?”
Ray put on his boxers, then grabbed her
bra and shook it at her. “Y’know, Jenna,” he whispered, “it might
be a good idea to put some clothes on.”
With a perturbed look, she took the bra
and slipped it on.
Ray swiped up her panties and handed
them to her. He glanced toward that eerie, single spot of light
again. Now he could see a person behind it. Someone with a
flashlight was coming toward them. Ray quickly stepped into his
jeans and threw on his shirt. To his utter frustration, Jenna was
taking her sweet time getting dressed. She stood there in just her
bra and panties, squinting at that lone figure with a
flashlight.
Ray tried to get a good look at the
man, but the flashlight was blinding him. He heard the man’s feet
shuffling as the light got closer and brighter. Ray shielded his
eyes. “Who’s there? Can I—can I help you?”
The light shined on Jenna. She sneered
at the man behind it. “What the hell do you want?”
Now Ray could see the lean, tall man in
a police uniform. He was about thirty-five, with black hair and a
thin, weather-lined face. His police cap was tucked under his arm.
“Seattle Police,” he announced. “Are there any more of you out
here? Or is it just you two kids?”
Ray swallowed hard. “It’s just us. . .
.”
“Is that your red Volkswagen in the
lot?” he asked.
Ray nodded. “Yes, that’s my car. I’m
sorry. Were we making too much noise?”
“It’s not a case of too much noise,”
the cop said, directing the light at him again. “This park closes
at ten p.m. So it’s a case of trespassing—and indecent
exposure.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Jenna hissed,
defiantly standing there in her bra and panties. “Don’t you have
anything better to do? It’s not like we—”
Ray swiveled around. “Shut the hell
up!” he said under his breath. “You want to get us arrested? Let me
handle this. . . .” He turned around and shrugged at the cop. “I’m
sorry, it was my idea that we come here. If we’ve broken any laws,
it’s my fault. I wasn’t thinking. . . .”
The cop switched off the flashlight.
“I’ll let you folks finish dressing,” he said coolly, “and then I’d
like to have a word with you.”
“Yes, sir,” Ray answered.
The tall policeman wandered back a few
paces. He took a pack of gum from his shirt pocket and unwrapped a
stick.
Ray grabbed his socks and shoes. “Get
dressed, and don’t say a word,” he whispered to Jenna. “I know I’m
sucking up. But why antagonize him? I don’t want to spend the night
in jail or have an arrest record with indecent exposure listed on
it. That would kiss off my plans to become a teacher. Please, just
let me talk to him. Maybe he’ll let us go with a warning if I
apologize and grovel enough.”
Jenna stared at him for a moment; then
she nodded. “You handle it.”
Ray apologized profusely while the cop
escorted them back to the parking lot. Lagging behind them, Jenna
didn’t utter a syllable. The policeman let them go with a warning
and a few cautionary tales about the different muggings, rapes, and
murders that had occurred at the Arboretum after dark.
An hour later, over pancakes at the Dog
House—one of Seattle’s most popular late-hour roadhouse-style
diners—Ray and Jenna discussed whether or not any of the cop’s
horror stories were really true. Ray felt so elated to have
survived the night’s adventures with just a few scratches. All his
terror and all of Jenna’s craziness—he’d never felt more alive. And
the pancakes he wolfed down were the best he’d ever had—even though
they’d been served up by a haggard, geriatric waitress, and the
place was a dive. Despite the dim lighting, he could detect a grimy
layer of grease and smoke covering everything—from the blown-up
sepia photos of old Seattle on the walls to the silver tops of the
salt and pepper shakers on their table.
Beneath that table, Jenna had slipped
off one shoe, and her foot kept touching his. Her toes wiggled
under the cuff of his jeans and worked their way up his shin. “You
saved my life tonight,” she said, while nibbling on a piece of
bacon. “You rescued me from myself, Ray. I don’t know why I do
stuff like that, I really don’t.”
He didn’t dare ask her if she’d truly
intended to kill herself earlier. He didn’t want to spoil the
moment. He smiled at her. “You know, the Chinese say that once you
save someone’s life, you’re henceforth responsible for
them.”
“Henceforth,
huh?” she asked, sipping her glass of milk through a straw. “Well,
I kind of like that.” Beneath the table, she scrunched her toes,
playfully tugging at the hair on his shin. “Looks like you’re stuck
with me, henceforth.”
“I kind of like that, too,” Ray
said.
He’d been infatuated with her up until
then, but that was the night Ray told himself she was the one—even if she was slightly screwed up. Who wasn’t
screwed up in one way or another? She made him feel
important.
They were married two years later, the
summer after their graduation. It wasn’t always smooth sailing. Her
demons emerged from time to time, but she never attempted suicide
again.
Then, five months ago, that thing
happened at the high school, and it all went to hell. He watched
Jenna, his family, his career—everything—unravel. He’d rescued her
once, but couldn’t help her this time. Nor could he save his
daughter, who had packed up and disappeared amid all the fighting
and the misery.
Ray didn’t see any way out—until just
recently.
He remembered what Jenna had told him
that night about her suicide attempts: “I guess it
seemed like the only way I could take control of things, and—I
don’t know—get out. . . .”
Ray wasn’t sure how long he’d been
sitting inside the idling station wagon in the Arboretum parking
lot. But the rain had stopped tapping on the car roof. He heard the
wipers squeaking and the motor purring. He switched off the wipers.
Beads of rain surrounded a clean, twin-fan pattern on the
windshield. He had a clear view of Lake Washington Boulevard. There
wasn’t any traffic at all.
The dashboard clock read 1:04
A.M. Everything was supposed to have
happened four minutes ago.
The motor died.
Ray stared at the red warning light on
the gas gauge. He didn’t try to restart the engine. Instead, he
took out his wallet and looked for his AAA card. In his rearview
mirror, he spotted a car coming up the road. A black BMW slowed to
a crawl by the parking lot entrance.
Ray started shaking. He could hardly
breathe—until the BMW picked up speed and continued down Lake
Washington Boulevard. Then it disappeared around a curve in the
road.
He finally found the card. With a
trembling hand, he punched in the numbers on his iPhone. The AAA
operator answered, and Ray told her that he’d run out of gas. “I
managed to roll into a parking lot by the Arboretum—off Lake
Washington Boulevard,” he said nervously. His heart was racing.
“I’ll need some assistance. Do you know how long it will be before
you can get a tow out here—or someone with a container of
gas?”
Forty-five minutes, the operator
said.
“I’ll be here, waiting,” Ray said.
“Thanks a lot.”
After he clicked off, Ray shoved the
phone in his jacket pocket. He was too anxious to just sit there at
the wheel and wait. So he left the keys in the ignition, opened the
door, and stepped out of the car. For a moment, he thought he might
be sick, but he took a few deep breaths.
From where he stood, Ray could see that
old pathway between some bushes at the edge of the lot—the trail
Jenna and he had ventured down so long ago. He couldn’t believe it
was twenty years. Where the hell had the time gone? He’d brought
his young son, Todd, to this park a few months back, and discovered
they’d chopped down that tree with the rope. And the Dog House,
where Jenna and he had eaten those delicious pancakes, had closed
back in 1994.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ray
noticed a pinpoint of light in a field south of the parking lot. A
chill raced through him as he watched the light get closer—and
brighter. He knew this time, it wasn’t a cop.
Ray started shaking again.
At a brisk, businesslike clip, the man
approached the edge of the parking lot. He switched off his
flashlight. Ray could see him now—about six feet tall and swarthy.
He wore a hooded clear rain slicker over dark clothes. Surgical
gloves covered his hands. He paused for only a moment at the lot’s
edge before he started toward Ray with a determined look on his
face.
Ray backed up toward the car. “Hey,
listen,” he said, barely able to get the words out. “I—I don’t know
what you’re planning exactly, but please . . .”
Unresponsive, the man kept coming
toward him. He reached for something in the pocket of his
slicker.
Shaking his head, Ray backed into his
car. “Just—just stop for a second. Please, wait—”
The man pulled out a short piece of
metal pipe and slammed it down on Ray’s head.
Ray let out a feeble, garbled cry. He
fell against the side of the station wagon and then crumpled to the
wet pavement. Dazed, he lay there while the man frisked him. Ray
tried to push him away, but he couldn’t lift his
hands.
The stranger took Ray’s wallet and
iPhone and then pocketed them. He grabbed Ray by the wrists and
started pulling him across the lot toward the opening in the
bushes. Ray was dragged down the same pathway he’d ventured with
Jenna on that warm night twenty years before. He remembered Jenna’s
beautiful smile when she said, “No one else is
around. . . .”
Ray tried to struggle as the man hauled
him into the shadowy brush, but he couldn’t move. When he tried to
talk, no words came out—just muted moans. It was as if he were
having a nightmare, and couldn’t wake himself up. He couldn’t even
scream.
His vision was blurred, but he could
still see the man, hovering over him with a gun in his
hand.
“No . . . no . . . no . . .” Ray
managed to whisper.
“Shut the fuck up,” the man grumbled.
He pointed the gun down at Ray.
No one else was around.
No one else heard the three
gunshots.