Page 118 of The House Across the Lake

Only it’s no longer Len.

It’s Katherine Royce.

I know because she gives me the same wide-eyed look of terror I saw when she came back to life the day we first met.

“What just happened?” she says, her voice unmistakably her own again.

“He’s out of you,” I say.

It’s clear Katherine knows enough about the situation to understand my meaning. Touching her face, her throat, her lips, she says, “Are you sure?”

I am. Len is insidemenow. I feel him there, as invasive as a virus. I might look fine on the outside, but inside I’m no longer fully myself.

I’m changing.

Quickly.

“Here’s what I need you to do.” I talk fast, afraid I won’t have control over my voice for much longer. Already Len is winding his way through my system. He’s done this before. He now knows where to go and what to control. “Take the boat to Boone’s place. Eli will be there. Tell them you got lost in the woods. Boone might not believe you, but Eli will help convince him. The story is you and Tom got into a fight, you went for a hike and got lost, although Tom thought you’d left him.”

I let out a cough as ragged as sandpaper.

“Are you okay?” Katherine says.

“I’m fine.” I notice the change in my voice. It’s me, but different. Like a recording that’s been slightly slowed. “Tom is in the Fitzgeralds’ basement. While I don’t know for sure if he’ll go along with your story, I think he will. Now let me untie you.”

It takes a frightening amount of effort to unknot the rope around Katherine’s wrists. Len’s starting to fight me. My hands are awkward and numb, and sudden random thoughts push into my brain.

Don’t do this, Cee.

Please don’t.

I manage to loosen the rope enough for Katherine to do the rest. As she slides her hands from the restraints, I set to work creating my own. It’s not easy. Not with Len getting louder.

Don’t, Cee.

You promised.

My vision has blurred and my depth perception is off.

It feels, I realize, like I’m drunk.

Only this has nothing to do with alcohol. It’s all Len.

With him fighting my every move, it takes me three tries to grasp the rope attached to the anchor. Knotting it around my ankle takes even longer.

“Remember—” I need to pause. Forcing out that single word has leftme breathless. “Tell them you got lost. That you don’t know what happened to me.”

“Wait,” Katherine says. “What’s going to happen to you?”

“I’ll be the one missing.”

I pick up the anchor and, before Katherine—or Len—can try to stop me, leap into the chilly depths of Lake Greene.

Water surrounds me.

Cold. Churning. Dark.

So dark.

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