1
Friday, November 18, 8:10 p.m.
Adirondack County, Upstate New York
Death hung in the air.
The evening was crisp, the sky clear, allowing the moonlight to cast its cool glow over thesurrounding trees. In the midst of fall, the leaves were ablaze in golden yellows and deep reds, signaling the natural cycle of death and renewal.
A single fishing boat glided through the calm waters of High Peaks Lake, the only sounds coming from the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull and the occasional call of a night bird in the distance.As it was the weekend before Thanksgiving, thedays were cold, the nights even colder.
“Are we there yet?” Caitlin Dowling said.
“Almost,” her boyfriend replied.
Escaping the hustle of city life in Albany, with the hope ofenjoying a weekend away, the young couple had opted to head north to experience the beauty and tranquility of High Peaks.
It was a little after eight in the evening when they’d left the Airbnb for what was meant to be an adventurous boat ride across the 5.5-mile lake. The waterfront cabin had come fully stocked with all the amenities, a full-size fishing boat, kayaks and canoes. With his girlfriend too afraid to use a kayak, he’d taken out the fishing boat.
“Billy, let’s go back. It’s too cold out here.” She shivered as she faced him.
He smiled back. “Put your hood up. It will be worth it.”
“This is not what I had in mind when you said we were going to get away.”
“Live a little.”
Caitlin grumbled, wrapping her arms tightly around herself in an effort to stay warm. She’d dressed for warmer weather, not expecting a sudden shift in temperature, now she was beginning to regret her choice of clothing.
With winter on the doorstep, Billy could feel a harsh wind biting at his cheeks. The boat bobbed up and down as water lapped against it. Desperate to stay warm, Billy began to row faster, hoping the exertion would generate some heat. He could feel his fingers getting numb and his teeth chattering. He’d brought a flask of hot cocoa and some finger foods. It was meant to be romantic — a kind gesture—proof that he hadn’t lost the touch. That the work on Wall Street hadn’t consumed his soul the way it had others’.
A light mist hovered over the surface of the water like a ghostly apparition.
Even as he focused on the task at hand, all he could think about was the cold.
“We should have gone south… No one knows we’re out here. If something happens…” she said.
“Chill.”
“Is that meant to be funny?”
He snorted, finding humor in the moment.
“Nothing will happen,” he said as the oars cut through the still waters.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they got close to the outcropping of rocks he’d told her about. The air became still. He felt a sense of unease wash over him. Billy heaved a heavy sigh as he brought the oars into the boat. The sound of the clattering against the hull echoed across the water.
He turned to Caitlin with a grin.
“Well, we’re here,” he said, gesturing to a rocky outcropping. “This is where she’s supposed to be seen.”
Caitlin squinted. “I don’t see a damn thing, so let’s go back.”
He chuckled, reaching for the flask and handing it to her. “Take this. Get some of that in you. It will warm you up.”
“It would be better if we drank it around a fire.”
Another cool breeze blew across the surface of the lake, rustling the leaves and carrying the scent of nature toward them.