The Lake

Mustn’t let him think I’m scared.

“Done what? Whatever did I do to you that wasn’t completely justified? Tell me that!”

She was sitting up now. Shaking. Rocking with terror, her free arm hugging her knees. Almost screaming into the phone.

Deana burst through the door.

“Mom!”

Leigh shook her head.

Put a finger to her lips.

Shush, Deana. Quiet!

She pointed to the extension phone in her hand, then stabbed a forefinger at the open door.

Deana frowned.

Leigh rolled up her eyes.

She mouthed, “Deana. Pick up the other phone!”

Deana raced out of the room.

“I was the best thing you had, lady,” Nelson whimpered. He seemed lost, uncertain, and Leigh relaxed a little. She could handle a pathetic Nelson. “An’ you didn’t know it,” he went on. “You didn’t ’preciate me. Called me an oddball and then FIRED me.” His pace spiced up a little. “ME! The finest chef in the whole of the Bay. I coulda cooked at ’Frisco’s finest, and you know it!”

Let him talk. I can deal with that okay.

Maybe.

“Nelson, calm down.”

Leigh heard a faint click as Deana lifted the phone in the hallway.

“Whass that?” Nelson was suspicious. Twitchy. His tone upped a couple of octaves.

“Just the line, Nelson. I should get it fixed. Been playing up on me for a week or so now.”

“Sure. You do that. Where’s that kid a’ yours?”

“Deana? Oh, she’s spending the night with a friend—”

“You lie!” he shrieked. “The light was on in her room a half hour ago. Don’t you lie to me, Leigh West. Or you’ll both regret it.”

His voice dropped. He spoke slowly, spelling it out: “You’ll both wish you hadn’t. Geddit?”

“Nelson, please. Why would I lie to you?” Leigh knew she was pleading and hated herself for it.

But she’d best play it his way.

Plead. Beg, if she had to. She smiled grimly.

He’d like that.

Christ. He’d been creeping around the house only a half hour ago?

Where the hell was Mace?

On the phone. Asking me if I was okay. Jesus, Mace. You shoulda been out there protecting us!

No. That’s not fair. Mace has to go off duty some time. Not his fault.

“You still there, Leigh?” The voice was low. Derisive. Mocking. Like he knew he had her in the palm of his hand. Running scared.

Her heart started to pound again.

She was panicking; couldn’t control the way her breath came out, all huffy and shallow.

She turned away from the phone, hoping he couldn’t hear her quick, uneven breathing.

Please God. Don’t let him hear me.

For a split second, she paused, steadying herself.

“Yeah. Sure. I’m still here, Nelson.”

“Y’know, you said some pretty hurtful things back there, Leigh. An’ all I ever wanted was recognition for my work. I deserved better. I know I’m not much to look at, but I’m an artiste in my own right. My creations made the Bayview the place it is…And my beef Willington’s a masterpiece.” He choked out a sob. “Everybody says so…”

Leigh calmed down a little. Nelson wasn’t angry, spiteful, or threatening anymore. Just downright pitiful.

“You knew my worth,” he went on. “You knew how good I was.”

Leigh listened to his pathetic whining. Not quite sure how to handle it now. Thinking that this entire conversation could go horribly wrong; change into something bad…

Mustn’t offend him, she thought.

Play him like a fish.

Placate him.

Let him spit it out. Whatever it was he had to say.

“All I wanted was to hit back at you.” His voice wavered. Leigh was finding it difficult to hear him now.

“…An’ make you worry like crazy. So the way I figured, I should follow your girl and scare the shit outa her…”

His sobs were noisy, heaving gulps, vibrating over the line.

She moved the phone away from her ear. When she listened from that distance, Nelson’s voice made thin, tinny sounds; ineffectual squawks coming from a long way off.

He was crying, too.

“Nelson. Don’t go on so.”

She heard Deana’s gasp of horror.

Jesus. Quiet, hon. There’s my girl…

“I didn’t mean that boyfriend of hers should get killed. I didn’t want for that terrible accident to happen. I was so riled up, I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry…”

Listening to him groveling, Leigh grew more sure of herself. “Nelson,” she said. “What you did was really bad. You killed that young man. You deprived him of a fine future. But if you’re as sorry as you say you are, all you have to do is give yourself up. You’ll have a fair trial, Nelson. Believe me.”

Sure. All things considered.

A fair trial.

The guy’s a maniac. Not a pervert.

Not an obssessive killer at all.

What he needs is a straitjacket. Not the chair.

Her thoughts flew back to Deana.

Hope she has the sense to call Mace on my cell phone…

“Nelson, where are you? I mean, are you close by?”