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When a teenage girl is terrorized by a madman out for blood, could it have something to do with what happened to her mother so long ago at the abandoned house out on the lake?
Back in the eighties, they’d retired to Florida. Carson’s Camp was under new management. All modernized and spruced up with a change of name—Lakeside Holiday Homes. In place of the old log cabins were smart new ones, in varnished pinewood, with porches, loungers, and barbecues out front. Over to her right, Leigh could see the new cabins, shiny yellow in the sunlight. She saw a twist of smoke, caught a drift of grilled burgers hanging on the air. Nothing really changes, she thought with a
take a look at the car.” He opened the front door. “Do you have your keys?” he asked. “I do,” Deana said, pulling a chain out of her T-shirt. A house key dangled at its end. They stepped outside. Mattie shut the door. “That’s another thing,” Deana said, pointing at the newspaper on the stoop. “It’s always up at the top of the driveway. When I came out this morning, it was right here.” “Okay. We may want to have the lab check it.” They crossed to the driveway. A shiny, black Trans Am was
her body to the core. She rose to meet him, raw, hurting, pressing herself against him, raking herself up and down his shaft till she could take no more. He came into her again. And again. Still gasping, crying a little, she lay back on the tousled, sweat-soaked sheet. Charlie lay on his side, looking down at her, hungrily. Panting. Wanting more. Playing with her dark, softening nipples. She felt the hard ache rise again… “Charlie,” she breathed, closing her eyes, lifting her arms to hold
headlights were off. Its engine idled. The glare of the moonlight on the windshield prevented Deana from seeing inside. “What do you think?” she whispered. “I don’t like the way it’s just sitting here.” “Do you think he can see us?” “I doubt it.” For a while, they watched the car in silence. “This is crazy,” Deana finally said. “Why doesn’t he go away?” “Maybe it is somebody making out.” “With the engine going?” “It’s like he’s waiting,” Allan said. “Yeah. For us.” “Don’t worry.
Nelson’s dead. This is two weeks on. We’re safe now. Mom’s okay. She’s got Mace, ’n’ I’ve got Warren to keep me company. I hope. Unless I’ve scared him off by tonight’s little performance. “And as we lie here,” Allan’s voice whispered in her head. “Our naked bodies all sweaty and tangled…” Oh my God. Stop it. Allan’s dead. Gone. Please God don’t let me go over that again… She looked at Warren, felt the bumps and jolts as the car sped downhill, bouncing over the ruts. He met her gaze,