The Waiting: A Supernatural Thriller

“It’s only a clock, Evan. I think you’ve become so embroiled in the research you’re putting merit in these wild claims. That woman you spoke to is probably senile, and if she isn’t, maybe her memory isn’t as good as she says. An inanimate object can’t make people kill themselves, it’s not possible.”


Evan looked away from her and stared across the lake.

“Yeah,” he said.

Selena cupped a hand around his neck, guiding his face back to hers. When he looked at her again, her face was very close, the dark lenses of her sunglasses reflecting the blue sky. Then her lips were on his. He had no time to react or pull away, even if he’d wanted to, the sweet taste of her breath in his mouth as she leaned into the kiss. It was surreal but so right. He couldn’t do anything but succumb to the pleasure of another person so close, who wanted to touch him, to care for him.

When she broke away, a small smile played at the corners of her mouth. Her lips were red, full, and wet, and for a moment he couldn’t take his eyes off them. An alien lust flooded him, something he hadn’t encountered in years. He wanted her—it was undeniable. All of the restraint he’d held like a shield before him crumbled with that one kiss. If Shaun hadn’t been a few feet away, he would have been unable to stop himself from seizing her by the shoulders and pulling her to him again. He would’ve dragged her down to the floor of the pontoon and had her there in the middle of the lake. And he could tell she would have wanted him to.

“Sorry, I had to do that,” she said, breaking him from the vivid fantasy.

He stumbled on his words for a moment, his face flaming hot again. “Thank you,” was all he could say, which earned him another smile.

“It’s such a beautiful day and Shaun’s having so much fun, could we stay out a little longer? This—”

Selena paused, looked down and then back up at him.

“This is the first time in all the anniversaries since my dad’s been gone that I’m enjoying myself.”

Thoughts of Becky’s suicide tried to hem in his mind again with clouds of angst, but he pushed past them, taking in the way Shaun laughed and stared at the birds flitting by and the pleading look on Selena’s face.

“Sure, let’s troll for a bit, see if we can catch lunch,” he said, and started the motor.





18





That evening, Evan was dozing when the phone rang.

He had kicked back in a chair beside the sofa on which Shaun had fallen asleep for his afternoon nap. They’d caught enough fish for lunch, and after returning to the island, he fried a batch of fillets, along with sliced potatoes and mushrooms. Shaun ate an amazing two helpings, and was only outdone by Selena, who managed three. They spent the afternoon lazing in the shade, the sun traveling in a slow arc almost directly overhead. The pines whispered gentle secrets to one another, and a sense of peace settled over him. It was a welcome contrast to the earlier horror of the morning. Whenever he began to hear Becky’s sickening moan, he remembered Selena’s comforting words. Becky must have been disturbed before she came to the house; there were no other possibilities. He held on to the thought until Selena departed in the old canoe, a sense of sadness washing over him as he watched her paddle out of sight.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the chair, and only realized it when his cell woke him, its buzzing dance bringing it dangerously close to the edge of the kitchen table. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and shaking the feeling that his head had been filled with lead while he slept, Evan picked up the phone, not bothering to see who the caller was.

“Hello?”

“Evan?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Evan, this is Justin Baker over at Dachlund.”

For several seconds he stood in place, wavering with the unsteadiness of waking. It took Justin asking him if he was there to sink home whom he was speaking with.

“Yeah, Justin, hey, how are you?”

“Good, good. Say, I guess I’m a little confused here. Refresh me on which article you’re talking about.”

“The one Jason sent over to you, about the clock, the grandfather clock.”

“It’s not ringing any bells, no pun intended.”

Evan laughed. “It’s the one about the clockmaker and his wife, how their deaths were mysterious and this clock is one of the few remaining relics from their life.”

“You know, I’m not seeing it here, Evan. I haven’t gotten anything from Jason since the last time you did that opinion piece on special education, which was excellent, by the way, really well received.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Evan said, frowning as he sat at the table. “So you’re sure nothing about a clock came through?”

“Nope, but it sounds interesting. Why don’t you zip me an overview of your idea, what kind of spread you had in mind, that type of thing, and I’ll let you know if it’s something we’d want to print.”

He was silent for a time, processing what Justin said. “That sounds great, I’ll do that.”

“You still have my email?”

“Sure do.”

“Good. Well, looking forward to it, Evan. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Evan said, and ended the call.

He stared at the blank screen of his phone for over a minute before turning it back on again. Hitting Jason’s number, he went through all of the scenarios that would explain the email he’d gotten the day before that didn’t involve his best friend lying to him. He came up with nothing.

“You have an uncanny way of calling when I’m taking a shit,” Jason said.

“Why did you lie to me?” Evan said, anger suddenly rushing through him and venting in his voice.

“What?”

“You heard me, Jase, why did you send me that email saying Justin wasn’t interested in the article when you never even sent it to him? I just got off the phone with him, so don’t try to bullshit me.”

The quiet on the other end of the line broke with Jason’s sigh, a deep, deflating sound that could’ve been something breathing out for the last time.

“I’m sorry, man. Let me say that right off the bat, I didn’t mean to mislead you.”

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