Mrs. Bowden.
“Are you a friend of… hers?”
“Yes, we've been friends for a while,” I say, trying to be as vague as possible but still giving her some details.
I have no idea what Isabelle has told her about herself, but I do know that she said that she was going to be staying here alone.
“We were just texting and I thought that I would come here and surprise her,” I say, trying to explain my sudden appearance in the cabin.
This seems to put Mrs. Bowden a bit at ease. Her body language changes quite a lot and she relaxes.
We stand in the foyer for a few moments, not saying anything. I should invite her in, but I don't want to. It's poorly lit here and the less that she can look at my face, the better.
I'm not wearing my baseball hat and I just pray to God that she doesn't watch too many crime shows or the news.
“Well, I don't want to bother you two. I just wanted to pop in and invite Samantha for drinks sometime at my house. I hope that you can both join me later tonight.”
I'm tempted to say no, but I don't want to be rude. It would be better to just cancel later on.
“Yes, I'll let her know. Of course. That would be wonderful.”
“Great,” Mrs. Bowden says and I let out a sigh of relief. “If you change your mind, just let me know,” she adds. “You must've had a long drive here.”
“Yeah, somewhat. I came from LA. So not too far. That's where we are from.”
I realize that I have made a mistake. Mrs. Bowden stops for a moment and narrows her eyes. Isabelle must've told her something different and I should have just kept my mouth shut, but I didn't and now it's too late.
She leans toward me, getting a good look at my face and then pulls away as if she suddenly realized something.
“I'll be going now,” she says abruptly and rushes toward the door.
I'm tempted to stop her, but that would just make everything worse. I have no idea what she knows, but my blood runs cold with fear.
If I were anyone else, if I were Mac for instance, I’d probably be hitting her in the head with something hard and leaving her bleeding.
That's what people do to protect themselves and to get out of bad situations.
I'm not like that.
I'm not a killer.
That's why this mistake is so fatal.
Mrs. Bowden is now running toward her house, locking all the doors and windows, and reaching for the phone to call 911.
My mind and my imagination are going out of control.
What the hell do I do?
Where is Isabelle?
18
Tyler
I pace around the room trying to make a plan. I have no idea if Mrs. Bowden recognized me, but I can’t take any chances.
I call Isabelle's phone over and over, but she doesn't pick up. I don't say anything in the text messages, not anything specific. I just tell her to get back to me as soon as possible.
What the hell do I do now?
I rush over to the bedroom and grab my bag. I throw in some clothes and toiletries as well as my phone. I then run over to the kitchen cabinet where we stashed the money and pull out all of the empty grocery bags that we put in the front.
The money is supposed to be in a bag all the way in the back. I reach over there, feel around for it, but I don't get anything. I grab my phone, turn on the flashlight, and look again. The cabinet is empty.
Isabelle took it; the hair on the back of my arms stands up as I take a few steps back in utter shock.
How did this happen?
Why did she do this?
My head starts to spin. My chest tightens and I can't breathe.
What do I do now?
Why would she take $92,000? Did she leave me?
Did she just take the money and run?
Did she know that Mrs. Bowden was going to find me here?
Then another thought occurs to me which I try to push away, but I can't.
What if this is a set-up? What if she already called the cops and they're on their way here?
I try to swallow, but my mouth is parched.
It's as dry as a desert and I start to cough.
I feel my legs go weak and I want to sit down, but I force myself to remain rigid.
Upright.
I have wasted enough time. If they're coming for me, I'm not