Meet Me In Maine

I woke with a start, raising my head from David’s shoulder as a chilling scream echoed through the house. David jumped to his feet and ran to the staircase, shouting to me over his shoulder, “Stay there. Don’t follow me.”

No way. Scarlett is alone in our suite. 

I hurried to my feet, banging my knee against the coffee table, my hands searching for the flashlights Dennis had given us. I grabbed one and raced to the staircase. As I climbed the steps, grunts and groans reached my ears. The sound of glass breaking. Then an eerie silence.

The wood floor creaked beneath my feet as I rushed through the hallway to our suite. I turned the knob. The door opened to a hazy glow of the moon struggling to pierce through the snow’s white glare. Large snowflakes flew against the window, their sharp pings resonating in the quiet room.

The door to Scarlett’s bedroom stood ajar.

But Scarlett always shuts her door when she goes to bed.

I slid through the doorway and tiptoed into the room. The floral comforter covered an empty bed.

I hurried to my bedroom. It stood as empty as hers.

When a blood-curdling scream ripped through the dead silence, I stumbled into the suite’s sitting room, shining my light across the walls and furniture. I stepped into the hallway, where David stood, clutching a long knife. I froze.

No. David didn’t kill someone. Not Scarlett. Please, not Scarlett.

David inched forward, the knife dripping blood to the floor. I retreated to the staircase, my free hand reaching behind me for the railing.

“Your guests are dead,” he said in a deadpan voice.

I inched backward, my foot hitting the edge of the top step. “Who killed them?”

“I had to kill them.” His face a taut mask, David followed me.

I took another step and lost my balance. “No.” I grabbed for the railing.

David’s arm encircled me, yanking me back from the edge. I fell into his arms and to the floor, the knife landing on my lap. His eyes met mine, and I scrambled to my feet, fleeing across the corridor.

I trusted him, but he’s a murderer.

“Wait, Elizabeth,” sailed over my head as footsteps pounded behind me.

I locked the door and leaned against it, gasping as I fought to catch my breath.