Page 196 of It Happened on the Lake

No matter what, she had to be more careful. She’d wrecked her car. A gift for her birthday last year. From her dear hubby. And bought withhermoney. What a prick! Nonetheless, he was going to be sooo angry with her. Well, too damned bad.

Anna reached for the keys to kill the engine, and it took two swipes to catch hold of them. Again, they slipped through her fingers. As she tried once more to snag them, she thought she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Something in the greenery by the front gates causing the rhododendron leaves to shiver.

A raccoon?

Or a possum?

Maybe a deer or . . . stray dog . . . No, no. It was most likely one of her mother’s miserable cats, those nasty little beasts that hid and darted throughout the property. Especially at night. Nothing to worry about and maybe nothing at all. Maybe she’d imagined it. After all, the T-Bird’s windows had started to fog and—

Wait!

Something moved again.

She tried to focus.

Was that a shadow on the other side of the fir tree?

A human slinking in the thick shrubbery?

Or just the shifting of tree limbs casting shadows in the breeze?

She squinted as the car idled. Who would be skulking around in this nasty weather? Maybe kids out trick or treating, or older kids playing pranks like taking rolls of TP and throwing them over trees and cars or houses or leaving sacks of lit dog poop on a hated neighbor’s porch. It wouldn’t be the first time the gargoyles had been the target of some teenage skullduggery.

Anyway, the dark figure disappeared.

If it had ever existed.

She couldn’t leave the damaged car in front of the gates blocking access to the bridge as she knew her mother and father were both out for the night, so she managed to swing the nose of her car around and parked awkwardly in front of the cottage’s little garage.

Good enough!

On unsteady legs Anna climbed out of the car. She wobbled in her stilettos as the flagstones leading to the front door were uneven and slick. She caught her heel twice but managed not to fall. But she had to steady herself on the door frame as she unlocked the front door.

Once inside, she shed her coat, letting it pool on the floor. Her umbrella? Oh God, she’d left it in the car and hadn’t noticed the rain as she’d walked to the porch.

She must be more wasted than she’d thought.

Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, she winced. Her French twist was beginning to fall, brunette strands straggling from her updo. Her lipstick had long faded, and her mascara had tracked down her face in unsightly rivulets.

“All for nothing,” she whispered, pulling off her gloves.

She stole a cigarette from the pack Bruce had left on the kitchen counter, struck a match, and lit up. She should have listened to her mother. Olivia had never liked Bruce and had warned Anna about him.

“Looks like a huckster to me,” she’d said after meeting Bruce for the first time. He had come bearing roses and chocolates and a big grin when he’d first met Olivia. “Way too smooth. And let me tell you, honey, you can’t trust any man who’s as slick as he is. They often turn out to be flimflam men.”

But Anna hadn’t listened.

What did her mother know?

Anna had fallen hard and fast for the handsome real-estate broker and she’d been set on marrying him. Despite her mother’s reservations.

Even during the elaborate wedding ceremony at the huge church, Olivia had glowered at her daughter from beneath the broad brim of her hat. Anna, in her frothy dress with its sweetheart neckline and full skirt, had ignored her mother. She’d been in heaven as she’d nearly floated down the aisle.

Only later, after a few years of marriage, two kids, and the realization that Bruce had a wandering eye had she nose-dived off the soft, lofty perch of cloud nine and crashed onto the cold, hard stones of reality. Exactly where she had landed tonight.

In the bedroom, she kicked off her wicked-heeled shoes and, gripping the cigarette between her lips, slid out of her pencil skirt and silk blouse, letting them fall to the floor. Then she worked on her nylons, unhooking them from her garter belt and rolling them off her legs. God, how she’d worked hard so that the seam had been straight when she’d dressed to meet her husband for cocktails and dinner. Bruce loved seamed hose, and she’d wanted to please him, to seduce him, to rekindle the spark that had died between them.

And all the while, he’d been cheating on her.

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