Waterlilies Over My Grave

Chapter 5

Chapter 11

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabelle Lee;

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabelle Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought,

Than to love and be loved by me.

And this maiden she lived with no other thought,

Than to love and be loved by me.

Duncan put down the poem and his flashlight and sipped his Johnny Walker Red from a sterling silver flask. The shadows of the moving trees in the parking lot in the back of Annie’s apartment building played tricks on his imagination. Dancing figures of specters—apparitions—ghosts.

Well, well, well. So, the nice detective had given the damsel in distress a ride home.

Cruel, brutal anger tensed his body. Was Annabelle now sobbing on the shoulder of the willing detective? A man with no scruples. A man with a reputation. He’d learned all he needed to know about Mark Driscoll from a spurned lover.

A mixture of repulsion and adoration burrowed deep into his heart. The love-hate muddle of obsession, insanity, damnation. His soul would soon be free of this torment.

He reached into his glove compartment and took out a tracking device, crept into the shadows and scooted under Mark’s police car. Done. Now, there wasn’t anywhere that man could go undetected.

Duncan snuck back into his SUV and resumed watch.

Sadly, he fixated on earlier, happier times. His beautiful Annabelle Lee. Who’d lived for nothing more than to love and be loved by him. The woman who’d cared for him more than anyone in the world.

Damn her. He’d made her. Now he’d break her.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. What had the detective been planning? To seduce her?

Annabelle was naïve—a rare beauty whom he’d rescued when her last living relative died. He’d taken her in. Married her, loved her body and soul, supported her, given her a child.

Another sip of whiskey. The child. She’d loved that unborn baby more than him. She talked about it more than she talked about him.

it himVisions of his Annabelle Lee, who soon would take his hand and float—side by side—in their private kingdom by the sea. There was no sea, but there was a lake. A lake much like the one where he’d pushed his mother from the boat and smacked her with the oar. The perfect spot.

He shook with anger. Whiskey spilled on his shirt.

“Damn it.” He reached for the towel that eternally lay on the passenger seat. Couldn’t allow anything to spill. Especially onto the car seat. Couldn’t do that or mother would beat him.

But there was no mother to beat him. He could spill the whole flask onto the seats if he wanted. But maybe she’d come back and put him into that closet again. She couldn’t do that either. He’d killed her. Held her head under water, the same way she’d done to him when he’d been naughty. Well, she’d been naughty and when he held her under, she didn’t come up—alive.

she Sirens were the first indication that they’d called for backup.

Patriotic flashing red, white and blue lights weren’t far behind.

Duncan pulled out of the back exit of the lot as the police pulled into the front.

The irony of the good guy pulling out as the bad guys pulled in.

Duncan chuckled.

The detective had undoubtedly gone up to Annie’s apartment with the idea of a one-night stand with his beautiful woman. What they’d found instead would be a nightmare.

his Well, good night Mark Driscoll. Good night Annabelle Lee.

Now, begins the terror.