Page 53 of The Woman By the Lake

My nose was cold, the covers up to my neck because it got super chilly at night, so much so, I considered turning on the furnace, and I was a girl who not only grew up in Chicago, but also liked being cold at night so I could cozy into covers to sleep.

And slept I did, mostly well, except the first night and Riggs’s party night.

But that night, the thunder rolling woke me because my sleep had been fitful after Riggs’s declaration about the animal tracks.

Even if he’d forced his way up the last step to get into my space, and he’d wrapped both his hands warm and firm around my neck, not to mention dropped his head so far his forehead was nearly touching mine (and I could see the impossibility of counting his eyelashes, they were so profuse), he gave me a litany of plausible explanations.

Even with all of that, I wasn’t having it.

He was right. He could see better in the daylight.

But he hadn’t heard the sound.

It wasn’t stones rolling. Or dislodging.

It was stones cracking together.

And in the end, that noise was headed my way.

Now this.

I lay there, wondering if I should call Riggs, or the police, or get up and turn on all the lights before I packed my bags and the boxes I’d kept for my stuff’s return journey to Chicago, and get the hell out of there.

I did this along with listening to that infernal scratching.

And the thunder rumbled again.

The scratching stopped.

I lay tense.

The scratching came back.

I went back to my terrified indecision.

Eventually, the heavens opened, and I heard the rain hit the roof.

More thunder came, much closer, and along with it, a flash of lightning, but the scratching stopped entirely.

Holy cow.

That was when I knew.

I didn’t believe in ghosts.

But if I did, one thing I suspected, they weren’t all that fussed with a thunderstorm.

But a human being?

Whole other story.

This meant someone was messing with me.

Some asshole was messing with me.

That was when I lay in bed, fuming.

But that night I learned one thing about nature living.

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