at the lake and made her way back into the warm cabin.
She managed to haul her luggage up the stairs and into the master bedroom which was decorated in french country chic. The patina-cloaked metal bed was neatly made except for the yellow decorative pillows that sat stacked on the warped wooden chair next to the window.
Adam’s clothes were hung in the walk-in closet and were wafting his fresh masculine scent. Stopping at one of his white dress shirts, a sly smile stirred on her lips. She began to undress leaving on only her pale pink lace bra and panties. She slipped her arms into the oversized oxford shirt and buttoned it mid-breast.
Anne walked into the bathroom, gazing at her reflection and giggling; a rush of crimson covered her cheeks. Adam’s shirt hit mid-thigh, revealing her toned legs. She bent to the side and began fussing with her long blonde tresses. She sprayed a subtle amount of floral-laced perfume on her wrists and neck. She waited in anticipation of Adam’s arrival. Grabbing her phone, she saw that it was close to five o’clock. She tried calling Adam once again but it went right to voice mail which meant he was still in court. She left him an enticing message, hoping he would hurry up.
Anne spent the next couple of hours thumbing through magazines and sipping merlot. The sun was beginning to stroke the horizon. As it began to cast shadows amongst the rooms, an anxious feeling fluttered through Anne. She flicked on two lamps in the living room and the overhead Tiffany chandelier in the kitchen.
The cabin was beginning to cool down from the day’s heat; Anne thought it was time to start a fire. She watched the fire-withered newspaper tickle the bottoms of the logs. Closing the metal frame, she gazed at the growing heat as it began to swallow the timber.
“Now that’s a fire.”
Anne was quite pleased with her fire-making abilities and brushed off a few stray pieces of bark that clung to the crisp shirt sleeves.
Clutching her glass of wine, she placed her iPod in the stereo that sat inside the built-in cove above the hearth. With remote in hand, she shuffled through her eclectic carousel of music until “Silver Lining” by Rilo Kiley crooned through the surround sound.
Anne sunk into the back of the plush couch, staring out into the pastel-swathed sky. The sun slowly lowered itself behind the earth and the moon emerged ready to greet the night with all its man-on-the-moon enchantment.
The sky eventually draped itself in black. The fire roared with intensity, flickering with hues of blue and yellow; the firewood pulsated crimson. Anne walked back into the kitchen to pour herself another glass of merlot. Turning off the light, she took a slight step down into the three-season porch. In Adam’s white button-down shirt, she walked out on to the deck. The bitter wood stung the bottom of her feet; the cold etched up her legs.
Anne gazed upon the blemished full moon that engulfed her in its floodlight. It reflected off of the still water and into her bright green eyes. But that wasn’t the only thing in her reflection. Down on the ebony cobblestone beach towered a dark silhouette. Electrified static surged through Anne’s entire body, igniting each and every cell.
After all the horror films she and Casey had watched, her subconscious was shrieking at her to run, lock the doors and call the police. Her stagnant gesture caused the silhouette to creep toward the stairs that led up to where she was standing.
“Run Stupid!” Her brain roared to the nerve impulses that were connected to her legs, but they remained unresponsive, as though some magnetic pull was holding her there. Her breathing ceased. Her heart thrusted blood through her so quickly the cold she had felt earlier dissipated. Her chest was on the verge of splitting in two. The menacing figure grew closer, lifting up its hands, pushing back the black shroud that was covering most of its face; revealing its true identity. The moonlight unveiled the truth in those familiar sapphire eyes.
“Hello, my Anneliese,” Carter said.
The wine glass fell from her hand, shattering into a million pieces at her bare feet. This wasn’t real; it was one of her crazy dreams. She would reach out to him and he would fade away in to the night air. Then she would wake up to a tear-stained pillow and haunting memories.
Extending her hand slowly, she could feel her muscles become rigid.