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The Woman in the Sunken Mirror - CHAPTER 4

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CHAPTER 4Penelope

Dreamless slumber.

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He could feel the warmth of sunlight dancing across his skin. A swift wind whipped through his hair, sand against his back, waves crashed in the distance. He felt a gentle hand resting on his arm, accompanied by soft whispers.

Barnett’s eyes flipped open. He was on the beach by the estate. The sky was still mostly clear, with only a few clouds in sight. The sparkling blue of the lake shimmered with the wind. He saw a woman kneeling next to him in the sand, her wide straw hat flopped against the breeze. She had one palm placed on his chest, and her head was lowered with her eyes closed.

It’s Elizabeth. Is she praying?

She felt him stir, and met his gaze, soft green eyes, accompanied by near perfect feminine features. She’s definitely not the same woman as in the photos her brother gave me.

Barnett sat up, feeling surprisingly rested, stronger even. His migraine was finally gone.

“The siren left you here”, she whispered eerily.

Turning his arm in her hands, she lifted up the sleeve to her white dress and placed her own arm next to his.

“She left her mark on you too”, she motioned with her eyes.

Feeling her soft touch, Barnett looked down. Sure enough, his arm was swollen just below the base of his bicep—a red puffy mound with three small bumps. Looking at her arm, he saw a scar, no longer red, but slightly darker, with three pronounced marks.

What the hell…, Barnett thought to himself.

The approaching sound of footsteps crunching through the sand diverted his attention.

“You broke my elevator!” a female voice shouted over the sound of crashing waves. Her tone was scolding.

Turning to face the approaching woman, Barnett gathered his concentration. Propping himself up on one elbow, with the sand digging into his skin, he squinted at her against the sun. She was wearing a cream pastel pleated skirt, a black halter top, with a short pastel purple cardigan hanging off her shoulders. Her dark hair was parted in the middle, with one side tucked behind her ear. She walked barefoot across the sand.

She’s favoring the moody teenager look today, apparently….

“I thought you were just a meager tenant of this humble abode”, Barnett shouted back, proud of himself for coming up with a jab so quickly.

“Touché”, she said, finally reaching the place where he and Elizabeth were sitting.

Kneeling down, and placing her hand on the side of his head, she made a sarcastic pout, clearly feigning sympathy.

“Does poor man-baby need me to kiss his ouchie-wouchie?” she mocked, shooting a sharp glance in Elizabeth’s direction.

“Did you inject me with something?” he demanded, pushing her hand away and displaying the needle marks on his arm.

Penelope took his arm into her hands, and surveyed the damage.

“Doesn’t look that bad to me”, she replied. “You should be thankful I didn’t leave you down there in the bottom of that elevator shaft.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “You’re heavier than you look. Fortunately, I had help carrying you up.” She didn’t seem to care to elaborate. “With no elevator to use”, she started to say, slapping the front of his head,” we had to climb a lot of stairs.”

Did she just bop me?

“You still haven’t explained this”, snipped Barnett, motioning to his arm.

Penelope sighed and flared her nose, “A chelating agent.”

Errm, what? he thought.

Noting his confusion, Penelope helped him out.

“The lower levels of the shaft pass through layers of bedrock containing high amounts of lead and mercury. The rapid vibrations from the falling elevator must have kicked up a storm of toxic dust. We injected you with a chelating agent to help remove the toxins from your bloodstream.”

There’s that ‘we’ again. I wonder who else was with her? Elizabeth?

“If you really wanted to see the dungeons…”, she slid her hand from his arm to his thigh, “all you needed to do was ask.” She smirked at him, a wild glint in her emerald eyes, as she let her cardigan down to reveal her cleavage.

Her touch sent sensations of excitement through Barnett’s body. Damn she’s good, here we go again…

“Sooo…”, she smiled and pressed her tongue against her cheek, “Care to tell me why you were down there to begin with? And why my camera by the elevator decided to spontaneously malfunction at the same time?”

She held out her other hand and opened her palm. Within it was Barnett’s little black box, the double-sided tape now torn.

“Time to fess up, Matthew Barnett.” She squeezed his leg, emphasizing the fact that she knew his last name.

Shit. Looks like she’s caught me.

Her expression didn’t seem angry or threatening, though, but it carried an air of playful amusement. She hadn’t been very discreet in her sexual advances either.

Odd.

Since she’s been coming onto me since we first met, and she clearly knows my game, maybe I could risk coming clean—for the most part, and see what information she might let slip.

Stealing a quick glance at Elizabeth, he tried to decide how to start.

Following his eyes, Penelope fastened her gaze on Elizabeth, whose head was lowered, avoiding eye contact.

“Her?” she piped in amusement. “Fuck, I thought it would be something more interesting—like you were trying to steal my research or something”, she threw her hands up in disbelief.

“If the reason you’re here is to rescue our damsel in distress—Elizabeth, then I’m obliged to inform you that she is here of her own free will.”

Unlikely, but I’ll play along, thought Barnett.

“So, you confess to abducting her?” he was taken aback.

“I’ll only answer your questions if you promise to do something for me”, she said.

I know I shouldn’t agree to anything she has to offer, but I’ve got to get Elizabeth out of here, and get some answers in the process. I hope I don’t regret this…

“Fine. What do you want?” he asked.

“I’ll let you know when it’s the right time”, she replied.

Fuck, what did I just agree to? Barnett thought to himself, concern spreading over his face.

“Oh, don’t get worked up. I promise, you’ll like it”, she said, suggestively fingering the strings on his—err, Edmund’s—neon joggers.

Damn, it’s like she’s toying with her prey.

He yielded, “Have it your way.”

“So, to your first question. Yes, this is the Elizabeth Sanders you’ve been looking for”, she said calmly.

Damn, she just confessed!

“I did not abduct her, though”, she remarked. “I went on a date with her to the sports bar. We talked, I shared about my wellness programs, and she expressed interest in participating in a more intensive journey of self-discovery and renewal, so I brought her back here.”

Good story, but it didn’t explain the ruffies, or the unmarked car that was later torched. Keep playing along, Barnett...

“Why no tattoo?” he asked.

“It was removed as part of her treatment”, she replied, moving her hands to her hips.

“You have her on something?” he demanded, leaning closer.

Penelope balked, “Only a careful treatment regimen to help her unlock new neurological pathways—parts of her psyche she had suppressed.”

“Anything that might limit her ability to leave of her own free will?” he pried, pushing himself up to the sitting position.

Penelope bristled, “She is here because she wants to be here.”

She seems a little touchy on that question...

“So, she can leave with me right now if she wanted to?” he asked, looking at Elizabeth, who continued to stare at the ground.

Penelope’s eyes flashed green as she leaned toward him, “Doesn’t seem like she wants to answer you, Barnett. Next question.”

That wasn’t an answer. Keep playing along.

“How the fuck did I wind up on the beach?” he demanded, rising to his feet.

“I already told you. You were carried”, she said, looking up at him from her kneeling position, and running her hands up his legs, teasing him with her eyes.

“By who?” Barnett continued, pushing her arms off his legs. “I saw something down there, a table, a chair, a woven blanket, a mirror. There was a monster.”

Penelope rolled her eyes, and took a deep breath, letting out a slow grumble.

“Fine!” she yelled, pushing away at him and standing up. “You want the truth? I know the rumors about this place.”

“This whole estate is secretly hiding an ancient portal to fantasy land. Turns out, we only do yoga on the weekends for fun. Meanwhile, we have a scary tentacle monster trapped at the bottom of an elevator. She likes to have sex with any man foolish enough to enter her spooky lair, and then she dumps them on the beach so they can ask a bunch of stupid questions while getting their dick massaged by a pretty little blonde whore”, she vented, grabbing Elizabeth by the arm and yanking her to her feet. Elizabeth’s straw hat blew off in the wind.

“There, satisfied?” she spat, her fingers digging into Elizabeth’s tender arm.

Well…I hadn’t heard those rumors before, but it did seem to explain some things, mused Barnett, staring at her quizzically.

Why had she gotten so upset when I mentioned what I saw at the bottom of the elevator? And why is she taking it out on Elizabeth?

Barnett felt a fury rising in his chest as he watched Penelope wringing Elizabeth’s arm. He felt a sharp migraine behind his eyes, and his vision clouded for a brief moment. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temples, and his sight returned. Returning his gaze to Penelope, he could see she was still wrangling with Elizabeth’s arm, forcing the girl to bend awkwardly toward the ground.

“That’s not an answer, Penny”, he replied, his words were sharp—as were his eyes.

Something intangible shifted in her expression when he said her name, a familiar flirtatious look replacing her sadistic rage. Releasing Elizabeth’s arm, she walked over, grabbed at his waistline, and pulled him against her, sliding her fingers partly under the bottom of his shirt.

Her sudden advance sent shivers of pleasure across Barnett’s skin. He stiffened, locking eyes with her. Although her head only came up to his sternum, she clearly had the advantage. Her body had elicited a strong response from him, which he was certain she was well aware of at this point.

What brought on this sudden shift in her attitude? He wondered, First she was tormenting Elizabeth, and now she’s trying to seduce me…And it seems to be working. She’s turning me like a clock—gotta be careful, Barnett…

Maintaining eye contact, she whispered, “The only truth that matters is how this feels right now”, she ran her hand beneath his shirt, up his abs, and rested on his chest.

Fuuuck…Barnett thought, I have almost zero ability to resist her advances. Her touch was like electricity. The only thing he could do was stand completely still.

She lowered her head and rubbed her short black hair against his chest, lingering for a moment to inhale his musk. After a few moments she sighed, releasing her grasp, and gently pushing off.

“Why do you have to make me work so hard, when it’s obvious we have a connection?” she groaned, stepping back from him, but continuing to soak him up with her eyes.

“Because I don’t know you, and I don’t know if I can trust you”, Barnett answered.

“Why? Not knowing whether or not to trust someone makes it so much more exciting!” she said ecstatically.

Enough with her games, time for some real talk.

“Maybe for you. But that excitement usually only works one way. Somebody has to be on the other end of it, and in my experience, it always ends with them being abused or taken advantage of”, he said, glancing grimly at Elizabeth.

His arrows seemed to hit their mark, as she remained silent, letting his words sink in for a moment.

“Tell me what I need to do for you to trust me”, Penelope pleaded.

No way did she just ask me that. I already know my answer.

“You could start by letting me take Elizabeth to see her mother and brother”, Barnett said flatly.

Worth a shot.

“Out of the question!” she snapped, crossing her arms.

“Then there’s not much you can do in that regard”, he replied calmly.

There was a long pause. Penelope studied his face as she seemed to be weighing her options.

Eventually she yielded, “Okay, she can go with you.”

Well shit, she actually agreed!

“Really?” whispered Elizabeth, looking dozily at her matron for confirmation.

“I have nothing to hide from you Matthew, and I want you to trust me”, Penelope said—and she seemed genuine this time. “Just make sure to bring her back so we can continue her cycles. If she quits cold turkey, there will be major side-effects.”

“Thank you, Penny”, Barnett said, giving her a sincere look. And for the first time, he thought he caught a glimpse of Penelope’s authentic smile—not snarky, not flirty, not playful, dark, or sadistic—genuine. She almost seemed relieved.

Interesting.

Penny took Elizabeth’s arm where the red mark from her wringing could still be seen. Gently stroking her skin, Penny leaned down and gave it a motherly kiss.

“I’m sorry for hurting you, love”, she apologized, gently touching Elizabeth’s face.

“It’s okay”, Elizabeth replied softly, tenderly gazing at Penny with doughy eyes.

Penny then grabbed the straw hat from the sand, and plopped it firmly on Elizabeth’s head. “We need to get you a strap to hold that thing on”, she mused.

She then turned her attention to Barnett, “Well, let’s get off the beach before we all get blown away in this maelstrom.”

With Penny leading the way, they walked up through the dunes, past the terrace, through the patio doors, and into the front room.

Barnett looked at Elizabeth when they reached the threshold, “Do you need to get anything before we go?” he asked.

“No, I don’t need anything”, she said softly, staring blankly into the distance.

“You’ll probably want this”, Penny handed him his phone. “I didn’t have a chance to break into it—yet. So, I guess all your secret porn fetishes are safe for now”, she smirked at him.

“Thanks alot”, Barnett said sarcastically.

“Oh, and here’s my number”, she added, handing him her business card with a different number scribbled on the back.

Ironic, considering it was her number that led me here...

“I guess we’ll be off then”, he said, looking outside to check that his van was still where he left it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to leave in the morning?” Penny asked while looking at Barnett, a flirtatious grin on her face.

He glanced at Elizabeth, who was inching closer to the door, then back at Penny, “Nope, we’re good”.

“Are you sure? I have a bed that just opened up in the sex dungeon”, Penelope joked.

“You’re impossible” he balked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Well, at least take some bubble tea for the road! just make sure not to spill it this time”, she smirked.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass”, he laughed.

Elizabeth perked up, “I’ll take one”, she raised her hand, looking at nobody in particular.

“One bubble tea coming up for the lady”, Penny exclaimed.

Damn, first she was the ‘pretty little whore’, and now she’s been upgraded to a ‘lady’. Penelope’s demeanor has completely shifted. I wonder what changed?

“She needs to be back in 24 hours to continue her cycle. You hear me Barnett?” Penny demanded.

“I guess now it’s your turn to trust me”, Barnett shot back, flashing a reproving look her way.

Let’s see how far I can push this ‘trust’ thing, since it seems so important to her.

“Fine, but I’m keeping the shit from your fanny pack, and your clothes, until you bring her back safely. And Edmund’s clothes better be mint by then.”

“Goodbye Penelope”, he injected, cutting her maternal nagging short.

Holding the door for them, Penny watched from the doorway as he and Elizabeth made their way down the driveway to where his van was parked on the street.

Now I look like the kidnapper, getting into a panel van with a pretty young woman…Barnett mused. Not to mention she’s clearly drugged. Maybe it would be best to avoid the cops until I’m able to sort things out.

Elizabeth climbed in the passenger seat as Barnett checked his power supply and remote server. Both were still quietly humming from the day before. He powered them down, and climbed into the driver’s seat. He took a moment to stare at Elizabeth. It was surreal—he’d been searching for months, and here she was, sitting next to him in his van, smiling at him with a dopey grin.

“Can we get ice cream?” She asked, looking slightly giddy, but also more than slightly high.

“Sure, there’s a good place right down the road. What kind did you want?” He answered, pulling up his phone for the menu.

“Umm…” she started, turning to stare blankly out the window. Lost in deep thought for a few moments, she slurped loudly on her bubble tea. “I think I’ll go with vanilla”, she finally decided, the goofy grin back on her face.

Sheesh, we need to get you sorted out, girl.

“Vanilla ice cream it is!” Barnett exclaimed, relieved that she had finally made a decision.

Man, this girl is about to go on serious sugar overload…

Revving the engine, he took off toward the main road. Looking back at the house as they drove away, he could see Penelope’s silhouette lingering in the doorway.

There was a slim chance she was being honest about what happened at the bar when she met Elizabeth, or about the nature of her stay. For one, he couldn't see any valid explanation for the burned-out car, or the ruffies. His gut told him that Penelope was very much her captor—if not in word, then deed. And yet, for some reason she had let Elizabeth leave with him. It felt sincere when she said she wanted him to be able to trust her. But he wasn’t really sure what to do with that. He also wasn’t sure what to think about Penelope’s drastic change in attitude.

Ugh…the whole fucking thing is suspicious.

And what on earth happened in the dark chamber at the bottom of the elevator? Had he hallucinated from toxic air, as Penelope seemed to infer? Looking at the red bumps on his arm, he remembered what Elizabeth told him.

‘The siren left her mark on you’, he recalled. He looked over at Elizabeth, who had been staring out the window daydreaming.

“Elizabeth”, he said gently, as she turned to acknowledge him, “Who is the siren?”

Giving him a faint smile, she said “Penny, silly”. She then turned back to the window, returning to her daydreaming, slurping away on her tea.

What did she mean by that?

It could have just been the drugs talking. But Barnett had been seeing visions of a siren for days now, and he knew what he saw in that dark chamber. Shivers ran down his spine just thinking of his encounter with the shadowy form.

His first priority was taking care of Elizabeth. But the mystery of the siren was like an ominous worm, digging around in the back of his mind.

He doubted he’d be able to let it go.

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History Bytes: Temple of Sventovit

Did you know that the temple of Sventovit was a real place at cape Arkona on the German island of Rügen?

In “The Witch of Rhinemark”, the protagonist, Lavender, travels in Raphaelle’s gypsy caravan to the island for a pagan harvest festival at ‘Arcana’. Raphaelle claims partial ancestry from the Rujani tribe of Arcana, and she serves as both a priestess of Sventovit, as well as a soothsayer and seer.

Historically, though, the temple was surrounded by the fortress of Jaromarsburg on the sheer cliffs overlooking the cape. The Rani tribe used the temple to worship Sventovit, the Slavic deity of abundance and war. At its height, Jaromarsburg was a powerful castle, with archeological evidence of a strong military, as well as vibrant mercantilism. Some archeologists have even found evidence of human sacrifice. The temple fortress was destroyed in 1168AD by Danish King Valdemar and Bishop Absalon. Today, Jaromarsburg is closed to the public, and only a portion of the reinforced walls remain.

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Find 'The Witch of Rhinemark' at https://amzn.to/4lPDwP4

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Rethinking Lakeborn Covers

More cover changes…

Nailing a good cover design has been a challenge for me. But after a few months worth of the previous covers, I’ve decided to eliminate cover art that depicts characters from the book in order to appeal to a wider audience, and also to lean into the aesthetic of the genre.

The Woman in the Sunken Mirror - CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3The Estate

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Surrounded again by water, that same deep blackness.

But Barnett sensed light—faint, yet perceptible—emanating from somewhere within him.

He focused his light into the blackness.

There she was, the woman, the siren.

Ethereal and drowned.

Seaweed enclosed her motionless body.

She made no sound, and yet he felt the waters sucking at him, dragging him, calling him to her.

His light barely illuminated her pale sunken face.

Two soulless eyes sprung open as she reached for him, seaweed entangling his legs and arms.

'Free me!’ she screamed and whispered at the same time.

Decaying bodies of hundreds of women floated up around Barnett as he fought with the reeds.

The bodies reached for him, pulling, clawing, dragging, as they sunk together into the blackness.

Barnett watched the siren fade from view as his vision grew dark.

Saturday – 7:30 am

More nightmares…

Barnett had been convinced they were leading him to Elizabeth—but now, he wasn’t sure.

They had grown darker.

And a siren…

He didn’t know much about mythology, but he knew that dreaming about a siren was probably a bad omen.

Especially today.

Barnett had always experienced vivid dreams, and he’d never put much stock into the meaning of them. But ever since the chapel, the same dream continued to haunt him in a more visceral way. It left him with a lingering sense of dread, as if he were swimming in deep water with nothing but darkness beneath him. He didn’t know what waited in the black depths, and it terrified him.

Taking a moment to steel his nerves, he looked over the pile of gear and his notepad from the night before.

I have my plan, just try not to get caught, he consoled himself.

Picking up his gear, he grabbed a protein bar and made his way toward the door.

Forgetting something? he thought.

‘Oh shit’, he glanced at the pink yoga mat.

‘Guess I’m going to need you today’, he smirked to himself.

He, however, had no intention of doing any actual yoga.

Saturday – 8:30 am

Barnett arrived early at the Spencer estate. He wanted to familiarize himself with the house as much as possible before the workshop. As soon as Penelope headed out to the terrace, he would slip away and begin the investigation.

It was another beautiful morning, a clear blue sky with a gentle breeze. It was great weather for the workshop, which hopefully meant he’d be able to snoop around uninhibited. The sun beat steadily through the tree line to the east. To the west was the shimmering blue of the lake, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shoreline. The estate itself looked more or less exactly as he had seen in the photos. Nestled against the backdrop of the towering and tree covered dunes, it had been built on a relatively flat area at the top of a hill. The acreage around the estate was also noticeably lacking in any significant trees, other than a few ornamentals planted into the landscaping. The house had a clear view, both of the lake and of the circle drive leading up to it.

Parking downhill from the main driveway, Barnett poked his head into the back of the van. The power block was running. His remote drives were running on standby.

Satisfied, he slammed the door shut and made his way up to the house. Quite a few people had already arrived. The driveway to the estate was so large that it accommodated almost all of the guests' vehicles. Barnett had thought he might get a head start on scouting the place out, but that wasn’t going to happen because everyone seemed to be mingling in the front room…

Right by the elevator…damn.

Barnett walked up the driveway past the fancy cars, down the sidewalk, and up the stairs to the main entrance to the house. The entry had a high portico, with two oversized wooden doors that formed an oval at the top. The doors had been propped open, and on one side was a billboard that read ‘STONE WELLNESS WORKSHOP – 9:00.’ Just through the doors, he could see crowds of women, standing and visiting.

“They say she’s the best”, a soft voice piped from behind him as he approached the door.

“Who’s that?”, asked Barnett, turning to face the woman.

He was greeted by a petite brunette with brown eyes and soft features. She wore a pink camisole with gray leggings and pink trainers. Her light brown hair was pulled into a loose knot, and an enthusiastic smile covered her face.

“Penelope”, replied the woman, “they say she’s the best at everything she does. And I guess today that includes yoga.”

“You follow her then?” asked Barnett as they walked in the house.

“You bet”, she responded, “She’s such an inspiration. I feel really fortunate to come today. She only had twenty open spots, and it was booked almost immediately when she posted about it months ago”.

Booked…months ago? Then how had I managed to land a spot? …

“Hey, I’m Amanda by the way, maybe we can be mat buddies?” she asked as she lifted an open hand in his direction.

“I’m Matthew”, he said, taking her hand for a friendly shake. “I probably need somebody to keep me from making a fool of myself.”

“No worries, mat buddy. Amanda is here to save the day!” she grinned widely, and her voice carried a hint of flirtation as she struck a heroic pose.

Barnett’s face flashed amusement. “Honestly, I’ll probably need those super powers if I’m going to make it out of here in one piece”, he mulled, quickly scanning the room with his eyes. “But first, I think I’m going to take a moment to gawk at this fancy house.”

“Great! I guess I’ll see you in abit then. I’m going to grab some munchies before things kick off”, chimed Amanda as she veered toward the bar full of refreshments.

Free from his new friend, Barnett paused for a moment to consider the front room. He had seen it from photos—the arching ceiling, with a single exposed monolithic wooden beam tying the residential half of the structure to the kitchen and hearth room, where the ceiling and roof began to slope downward. To his left were the stairs he’d seen, and right next to them was the elevator. Unlike the rest of the house, which had been immaculately preserved in its iconic mid-century style, the elevator looked older, like something from the gilded age. It had a single embellished wrought iron door with glass, and an antique light inside. He could see the controls through the door, which appeared to be the only part of the apparatus that was not antique. It had a brass turnstile interface that clearly displayed three floors.

So, there is a basement.

The only camera in the room was mounted on the wall facing the elevator doors. And it was easily within reach—with the help of something to stand on. Past the elevator, the front room ended with two large triangle windows, scaling the height of the room, from the ground to the second story. They overlooked a portico, followed by the terrace and pool, and in the distance, the bright gleam of Lake Michigan.

“You’re wearing women’s pants”, chimed a voice from Barnett’s peripheral.

“Man, you sure are on my case today, Amand—”, he paused as he turned to face the woman.

Shit.

Dark hair greeted him, and emerald eyes. She looked at least 5 years younger than the photos he’d seen. She was even shorter in person, her head barely reaching his sternum. She had near perfect facial symmetry, skin flush with color from long days in the sun, and a lean build from an active lifestyle. A row of diamond studs decorated both of her ears, and one nestled in her belly button. She wore a powder blue sports bra with black leggings and white training shoes.

“You must be Penelope”, he said, caught off guard.

Focus, Matt, she has information you need. Butter her up, and see if she cracks.

“I’m Matt. I was just admiring your gorgeous house”, he said, regaining his confidence.

“Ha”, she laughed, “I wish this was my house. I am but a mere tenant of this humble abode”, she said with a playful smirk.

“If not yours, then whose?” Barnett pried, playing ignorant.

“That would be Dorothy”, Penelope replied. “If we’re lucky, she might even make an appearance today. She’s been talking about trying to be more active lately”, she added. “We shall see…”, her voice was low as she trailed off.

Well, there’s one burning question to strike from my notepad. Dorothy and Penelope were, in fact, not the same person. This Dorothy sounded like a total recluse, and it’s no wonder I had difficulty finding information about her.

“Anywho…”, she said in a playful tone, her eyes rolling to the side and biting her lip. “Your pants…”, she fixed her gaze firmly at his waist.

Wait, is she checking me out?

“You must be new to this”, she said, pointing at the drawstring to Barnett’s chinos, which clearly displayed the logo for female sportswear.

Damn, guess I did forget something this morning after all.

“You’ve got me pegged”, relented Barnett, shifting his stance awkwardly.

“I’m sorry sir, but I think you’ve shown up to the wrong class. The pegging workshop is next weekend”, she smirked, with a glint in her eye.

Before realizing it, Barnett let out an audible, “Ha”.

Without warning, Penelope walked over, and gently reached down to lift up his fanny pack full of highly illegal devices, grab his laces, and tuck them back in so they couldn’t be seen. She let her hands linger for a moment before pulling them back.

“There, nobody can tell that you’re crossdressing now”, she smiled, teasing him with her eyes.

Barnett froze.

Damn she’s charming. She’s playing me like a fiddle.

His face flushed warm as he paused to consider her advances.

I wonder if this is how she convinced Elizabeth to leave the bar with her...

Penelope seemed to respond to his embarrassment, and pulled her hand up to his shoulder, patting him with an expression of sympathy.

“I apologize for my forwardness. I don’t have many guys show up for my workshops. You’re a rare breed”, she said, scrunching her forehead.

“Except, of course, for the creepy kind of guys who follow you home, stuff you in the back of their car, and lock you in their sex dungeon”, she joked playfully, with another wild glint in her eye.

Damn, that was messed up. Why did she just say that?

Barnett’s stomach turned. He felt a throbbing behind his temples, this time so strong it made his ears ring.

If she took Elizabeth, then she is the kind of person who would do something like that…

“But don’t worry”, she added, “I’ve got my eye on you Mr. Matthew. You won’t be stuffing any girls in the back of your car on my watch!” Her tone was suggestive, as she walked toward the front of the room.

“Ladies and gentle-man”, she announced, smiling sarcastically in Barnett’s direction, “let’s move things to the terrace so we can begin today’s session.”

“Don’t worry mat buddy!” chimed Amanda, who seemed to materialize out of thin air, “I’ve got your back”.

Shit, there goes the plan, Barnett thought to himself.

My only chance to scope things out is during the session while Penelope is distracted. But now she’s watching me like a hawk, and I’ve got Amanda following me everywhere.

Barnett watched as the small gaggle of women filed out through the patio, and onto the terrace, bubble teas in one hand, yoga mats in the other. Barnett needed to come up with something fast, or he would miss his chance. He looked around the room, out the doors to the patio, then at Amanda, slurping on her newly filled bubble tea.

Bingo.

“Here Amanda, you’ve got your hands full, let me grab the door for you”, Barnett remarked, moving around Amanda to grab the door with one hand.

“Why thank you Mr. Gentle-man”, she teased him, pausing briefly to let him open the door.

Right as she was about the pass through the doorway, Barnett pushed his torso out into the path of her right arm.

The arm holding the bubble tea…

Amanda let out a high-pitched, “EEP”, as she proceeded to dump copious amounts of tapioca riddled tea all over his front.

“Omigosh, I’m sooo sorry”, she gasped apologetically.

“Oh shit”, Barnett exclaimed, feigning embarrassment, “I’m fucking soaked.”

Amanda desperately grabbed her towel and began patting down the front of Barnett where the tea had spilled.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite man in distress”, snarked a familiar voice, as Penelope made her way toward the scene of the crime.

Looking Barnett up and down with the same sympathetic expression she had given him mere moments ago, she snatched the towel from Amanda’s hands, and began patting him down herself, seeming to focus on the area below his waist.

Of course, mused Barnett. She’s shameless.

“Shit, your shirt. It’s going to stain”, fussed Amanda as she began pulling it off of him.

Now here’s something, being fussed over by two women at the same time, one trying to remove my shirt, and the other giving undue attention to my lower extremities.

A look of anger covered Penelope’s face as she watched Amanda fuss over him.

Is she jealous?

She cleared her throat. “As much as I’m sure we would all love to see Mr. Matthew half nude during our session today, I think it might distract somewhat from our goal of mindfulness and meditation”.

And here it comes. I’m about to have my excuse to canvas the place while they all piddle around outside.

“Matthew”, she stated, looking Barnett straight in the eyes, no playfulness or sarcasm this time. “Why don’t you excuse yourself to get cleaned up. There are plenty of clothes in my closet that would fit you. My room is up the stairs, and second on the left. You can rejoin us after you get cleaned, as long as you are done being a distraction”, she scolded.

Damn, that was sharp, and condescending… I don’t even want to know why Penelope has men’s clothes in her closet, but maybe I already know the answer. She wasn’t exactly shy in her sexual advances. Regardless, without realizing it, she played right into my hand.

The girls slowly returned toward the terrace led by Penelope, with Amanda reluctantly following. Looking back at Barnett, she mouthed the words, “I’M SORRY”, as she walked away.

I couldn’t have done it without Amanda, though. She had, in fact, turned out to be a great mat buddy.

Finally alone, Barnett had exactly what he wanted.

Time to get lost on the way to Penelope’s room.

He headed in the direction of the garage, keeping an eye out for cameras along the way. Past the kitchen, through a mudroom, and into the garage. He opened the door and peeked for cameras or alarms.

There were two cameras in each corner of the garage, both facing out toward the three garage doors—two wide doors, and one small. Each garage door had a long frosted window toward the base, filling the garage with natural light.

Hugging the inside wall, he carefully moved to examine the vehicles while avoiding the cameras.

One pearly red Maserati MC20, state tags, no fleet number. One classic white Rolls-Royce, Silver Cloud, state tags, no fleet number. Mint condition. Impressive. One Land Rover Defender, black, state tags, no fleet number. The final vehicle wasn’t a car at all, but a motorcycle. A Kawasaki ZX-11, black, no tags. Suspicious.

In the far corner by the single small garage door, there appeared to be a mechanical bay with a hydraulic lift. The lift was surrounded by a workbench, tools chests, and shelves with boxes full of parts. On the bottom of one of the shelves, a narrow box caught Barnett’s eye. He lifted the flap of the box to reveal a stack of numbered decals—fleet numbers.

Strike one.

Leaving the garage, he made his way back through the kitchen, and into the hearth room. He glanced outside. The ladies were all occupied with their session on meditation, Penelope’s back was to the windows, and she appeared totally immersed in her lesson.

Time to canvas the living quarters.

Barnett moved toward the stairs, and hesitated next to the elevator. He felt something ominous as he looked at the elevator. Shifting his attention to the elevator camera, he realized the angle of the camera would pick him up as he climbed the stairs. Good thing Penelope had given him express permission to go upstairs. He briefly pondered his plan. After canvassing the rooms, he would need to figure out the elevator. It would be less suspicious if the camera recorded him going upstairs, but not coming down.

He grabbed a barstool and walked up below the camera. Reaching into his fanny pack, he fished around for one of his disruptors.

Shit, they’re soaked in bubble tea. So much for the genius plan.

He gently pulled them out and examined them. Two had clearly short circuited, with black scorch marks where the wires met the wireless switch. The third battery had power, but the switch wasn’t responding. He grabbed his multitool and quickly spliced a switch from one of the dead units onto the one with the good battery. He checked his phone, and saw a signal.

Phew.

He climbed up onto the barstool, and carefully taped the unit to the base of the camera. Giving it a quick test, he noticed the power light flicker for a moment on the camera before returning to normal.

Returning the barstool, he made his way up the stairs and into the living quarters.

Second on the left, she said.

Barnett poked his head in the first room, a guest room, nothing of immediate interest.

He came to Penelope’s room, and opened the door. To his surprise, the room was bare. Aside from the basic furnishings, there was nothing interesting about the room. It didn’t even look like anyone slept there.

Kind of like my apartment, Barnett mused.

The only touch of personality was a small picture on the nightstand. It was Penelope and another woman at the beach. Removing the back of the frame, Barnett found a date with a small handwritten note,

‘Penelope and Dorothy, Upper Peninsula, 2013. Rabble Rousers.’

9 years later, and Penelope had barely aged. She must have some crazy genetics.

Replacing the frame, he moved toward the wardrobe. Opening the closet he found a disorganized pile of men’s clothes, some in bags, and some on the floor. Many of the clothes were long out of fashion. One of the bags had been labelled, ‘Edmund’.

Dorothy’s deceased grandfather.

Digging around, Barnett was able to find a white golf shirt and some bright joggers that looked straight from the 90s.

Better than nothing, I guess. And it will give me a cover story if someone catches me snooping.

Leaving Penelope’s room, Barnett headed across the hall to the study. The room had a large carved desk, covered with papers and open books. Behind the desk was a fancy swiveling leather office chair. Facing the desk were two smaller leather chairs. There was a beautiful Persian rug strewn across the floor. All the walls were covered in bookshelves except for the western wall, which housed a large casement window overlooking the terrace and lake.

Scanning the room, Barnett didn’t see any cameras, so he headed in to snoop around. The papers on the desk appeared to be research notes, but everything was covered in a thin layer of dust.

The office must not have been used in awhile…

Most of the research notes were incomprehensible ramblings about Ojibwe and Potawatomi myths, as well as a map of the estate. Digging around through the drawers, he found nothing of note, just old cigars and a flask of whiskey. The bookshelves were filled with all sorts of academic books—science journals, anthropological and cultural commentaries, Greek and Western mythology. Framed on the wall was an excerpt from The Canadian Magazine dated 1824, titled ‘Venant St. Germain and the Monster’. The text was faded, though, and Barnett couldn’t make it out. He spied scuff marks on the wall next to the frame. Pushing the frame to the side, he noticed an electronic safe mounted into the wall.

Here we go…

Stooping down, he examined the safe. It was an electronic keypad safe, and it appeared to be hardwired. Wedging his multi tool into the edge of the plate around the keys, he popped the interface open. Pulling out his electronic tunneler, he unplugged the keypad, and wired in his tunneler. Switching the device on, he began the tunnel and sat back to wait. Almost all electronic safes had a reset combination or a master key. His device was able to instantly identify the make and model of the safe, and execute all known reset combinations, or fake a master key if needed. After a few minutes of waiting, he heard the whirring of the electronic motor, as the locks released and the door popped open.

Presto…

Pulling out the contents, he examined what was inside.

There were a few valuable pieces of jewelry, some old credit cards, a few thousand dollars in cash, titles for cars, the deed for the house, a last will and testament from Edmund signed over to Dorothy Spencer. There was also another, albeit much older looking, last will and testament for one Marcus and Hanna Spencer Estate, signed over to Edmund. Barnett kept thumbing through the documents, uninterested in the money or valuables. He saw an autopsy report for the same Hanna Spencer who had apparently died from asphyxiation.

She suffocated? Curious.

There were also SSN cards and birth certificates.

Hmm, what’s this? …

There were multiple SSN cards for Penelope, using various last names.

Well, that’s definitely suspicious…Man, I could spend hours in here. This is a goldmine of dirty secrets.

His head snapped up as a soft voice from the next room caught his attention. He thought he heard steps walking down the hallway.

Shit…

Throwing the items back in the safe, he closed the door, popped the keypad back on, and replaced the picture frame. Then poking his head out into the hall, he caught a glimpse of a grey form entering one of the rooms, and closing the door behind it.

Is there someone else up here with me? …

Barnett cautiously made his way toward what appeared to be the master suite. Realizing the door was locked from the inside, he pressed his ear to the wood.

Nothing…wonder if I was imagining things.

He pulled out his lockpick, and went to work. A few seconds later he heard a soft click as the door handle began to turn.

Fuck.

Quickly stuffing the lockpick back in his pocket, he stood upright to meet the curious face of a woman.

It was Dorothy. But she looked much older than in the picture he had just seen, unlike Penelope who had barely aged.

“Oh hello, did Penny send you to convince me to come outside with her? I can’t stand it when she holds these pointless gatherings—so much noise, and always someone snooping where they shouldn’t!” She shot daggers his way.

“Oh no, ma’am!”, Barnett apologized. “I had a little accident, and Penny—err, Penelope, sent me to her room to find a change of clothes.” He gestured to his mismatched attire.

Dorothy looked him over through the crack of her door, “Penny always had a soft spot for scruffy men, just ask Edmund.”

Just ask Edmund? Dorothy’s grandfather? Was there something between him and Penny—err, Penelope?

“I’m really sorry to bother you, ma’am, I just got lost trying to find the restroom.”

“No worries young man. Just be sure to tell that rabble rouser Penny to quit trying to drag me into her hairbrained schemes.”

“Will do!” replied Barnett.

“Now if that’s all, I should much like to get back to my book”, she grouched, shutting the door, and the handle locking with a soft ‘click’.

The plot thickens…, thought Barnett as he retreated down the hall.

I’m running out of time, so I should hurry if I’m going to investigate the elevator. One more stop before returning to the front room. The solarium.

Barnett didn’t expect to find anything there, but it never hurt to be thorough. He hadn’t encountered any cameras or security on this side of the estate, so he felt himself relax a bit, and his pace eased up.

Approaching the solarium, he could see the warm glow of sunlight refracting through glass panels onto stone tile. The room was filled with tropical ornamental plants, and a woman in a white dress was tending the plants with a watering can. She looked up as Barnett descended the spiral staircase from the living quarters. She gave a pleasant smile, and resumed tending to her watering.

Barnett found her lack of suspicion…suspicious.

He drew closer to the woman, attempting to get a look at her features. She remained completely uninterested in his presence.

She was tall, and well built. Thick blonde hair…closely matching the description he had of Elizabeth.

Surely it couldn’t be her…but I need to be sure.

Barnett stepped closer to the woman.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but you seem awfully familiar. What’s your name?” he asked her gently.

“My name? Why it’s Elizabeth of course.”

Fuck.

“Would it be okay if I take a look at your wrists?” he asked.

I have to be sure.

She set the watering can down, and calmly stretched out both arms, slowly turning them over.

Nothing.

“Thank you, ma’am, just thought we might know each other. I’ll let you return to your work.” He cautiously backed away, as she silently returned to watering the plants without the slightest response.

Well, that was strange, Barnett thought to himself, making his way through the front corridor, and beneath the living quarters.

It was almost like she was high on something. It would make sense to keep her drugged if she was being kept against her will. But Barnett couldn’t be certain that it was actually the Elizabeth he’d been looking for. For one, she didn’t have the heart tattoo on her wrist. There were other things too. Her build was less athletic—which made sense if she had been held captive for a year. But some of her proportions were off. Her face had a different symmetry to it, and she appeared to be more developed in her female features and shape. Her hair was lighter and she also appeared a bit shorter.

I suppose cosmetic surgery could account for the differences. And tattoos can be removed. But why? Why go to all the trouble of abducting her and altering her appearance, just to have her watering plants in the solarium?

He would need more to work with if he was going to help her. He needed to find files, or computers, or anything. Everything he’d found so far was suspicious, but it was only circumstantial. He needed something solid and traceable for the detectives.

As he approached the elevator, he opened his phone and activated his disrupter before the camera had a chance to catch him. He checked his watch, 30 minutes had passed, and Penelope would likely be suspicious soon. He glanced through the window,

Penny is still going strong with her ‘hairbrained schemes’, Barnett smirked to himself.

He approached the elevator, sliding the wrought iron door to the side, and stepping in.

The interface was the only new part of the apparatus. Modern in nature, the panel and buttons were styled in antique brass to match the rest of the elevator. But they were illuminated from behind with LED lights. There were buttons for three floors. The main level, the living quarters, and the basement. He punched the button for the basement with no response. He saw no key or panel for emergency controls.

So much for the fire keys.

He would have to put the elevator in service mode using a trick he learned in the service. Most elevators shared the same control interfaces, and they were notoriously susceptible to tampering. He examined the interface. Three buttons seemed to be loose, Main Level, Intercom, and Close Door. He pressed and held all three. The backlight blinked twice, and the interface popped open. Behind the panel was a digital keypad, as well as a little red lever for manually moving the elevator. They were covered in cobwebs.

Must’ve been awhile since she’d been serviced…

He hastily grabbed the red lever and slowly pushed it downward.

The elevator gradually began to move downward, and then more rapidly. Barnett released the lever, but the elevator continued to descend at a quickening pace.

Shit.

As the lift plummeted at a frightening speed, Barnett braced himself against the bars of the door.

Five seconds…ten seconds…twenty seconds…

Almost half a minute before the descent began to slow. For how long he’d been falling, he was certain it had been hundreds of feet.

Much more than just a basement…he thought.

The lift finally halted with a loud, ‘SCREECH’.

He peered through the glass and saw concrete walls on all sides. He opened the door. Looking down, he noticed a small gap toward the bottom of the door, apparently leading to whatever floor he had landed on. He bent down and looked through the opening. It was mostly darkness, but he thought he could see a faint glow in the distance. The gap was almost big enough to squeeze through.

Think Barnett…

Glancing at the brass handrail along the door, he gave it a forceful kick.

‘SNAP’, he heard one of the brackets crack.

Using the leverage of his body, he wiggled the bar back and forth until it broke free. He then placed the bar into the gap, and began to pry. The whole lift strained, and slowly moved downward. When he let go of the bar, the lift rose back up. Prying again, the whole lift shifted. This time he wedged the bar between the floor of the lift and a seam in the concrete wall of the shaft.

With just enough space, he desperately squirmed through the gap. His exit dislodged the bar, and the lift floated back up, and out of reach.

Well damn, guess I won’t be going back up that way…

Using the flashlight on his phone, he turned himself to get a sense of his surroundings. It was dark, but from what he could tell, he was in a massive stone chamber of some sort. The ceiling was high, but he could faintly make out the shapes of columns, eerie in form, and unnerving to look at. The light from the elevator illuminated a nearby stone staircase leading upward toward the wall of the chamber.

Likely to a stairwell of some kind…

The chamber appeared to be mostly empty. Switching off his light, he honed in on the faint glow he had seen before. Approaching the source of the light, he discovered a small wooden end table and a lone wooden chair. Both were antiques. A hand-woven blanket was draped over half the chair. And on the end table, a lone candle was burning. Judging by the wax, the candle had been burning for awhile. The end table had a single drawer with a patinaed copper handle. Barnett grabbed the handle, and slid the drawer open.

He saw for a moment his own likeness, shrouded in shadow, candlelight dancing across his face.

It was a small silver hand mirror, bright and polished. He reached out his hand and grabbed the mirror, his sweaty hands smudging the bright silver finish.

What is something like this doing all the way down here? And why does it fill me with a sense of dread?

Looking back in the mirror, he saw his shadowed form shift to that of a woman, dark and ominous. His neck bristled as he felt a chill of cool air sweep through the chamber, followed by an ethereal whisper…

‘Free me…’

He spun around, mirror in hand, and came face to face with the silhouette of a dark figure.

The woman…the siren.

"Free me…” he heard, his veins turning to ice.

In a split second, the shadowy figure rushed toward him. He glimpsed the swift glint of piercing green eyes, followed by dark tendrils grasping at him from below.

Shadow took him, as his world went dark.

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The Woman in the Sunken Mirror - CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

Invitation

Not sinking, not swimming…Floating.

Barnett could feel the deep entomb him.

No surface, no floor.

Just blackness, heavy, and airless.

Hands as seaweed, caressed his head, his arms, his legs. Wrapping him in comfort, fatal, and doomed.

Scaly and smooth, he felt her enter his mind, A woman.

‘Find me’, she whispered.

Her form, vague and diffuse.

‘Elizabeth?’, Barnett spoke uncertainly.

Brown hair, or was it black? Tall, but wasn’t she short?

The figures shifted.

‘Penelope!’ Barnett screamed.

‘Find me!’ she shouted.

Barnett gasped for air, and the deep enclosed him.

BRRRT…BRRRRT…BRRRRT

Barnett jolted awake as he fumbled around for his phone.

“Stupid fucking alarm!” he shouted into the void as he rolled out of bed, sheets drenched with sweat.

What a dream, he thought to himself as he cleaned up and assessed himself in the mirror.

He had been asleep for what felt like centuries, but it hadn’t seemed to do much for his physical state. He still looked and felt exhausted.

It wasn’t enough to be haunted by one woman, but now it’s two…

The sooner he found Elizabeth, the sooner he’d be able to reclaim his sanity, and maybe get some sleep, without being visited every night by unwanted dream visitors.

At least he knew where to start.

Penelope Stone.

‘Neurologist…’, he smirked to himself, recalling the playful posts he’d seen on her social media. He just needed to decide how to find her.

He grabbed his phone and pulled up Penelope’s page again.

He could easily find her address and current phone number using just her name. But showing up anywhere near her house or workplace would rouse too much suspicion. He needed to come up with a plan, a reason for being there, in case he was discovered.

He scrolled through her page.

What’s this?

Penelope was hosting a workshop for mindfulness and meditation at her house all day on Saturday. Invitees were limited to gold tier package members of her health and wellness program. She even listed her address.

Well, that was easy.

A plan formed in Barnett’s mind. He’d sign up for a gold tier membership, study up on her catalog of wellness videos over the next few days, and show up for the workshop on Saturday. That would give him a solid cover story for casing the place. He might even be able to see what information he could coax out of her through conversation. With any luck, he’d also be able to snoop around while Penelope was busy teaching meditation.

Or whatever the fuck they do at these things…

He only needed enough information to convince the investigators to set their sights on Penelope. And who knew? If he could prove that Penelope kidnapped Elizabeth, it was entirely possible that she had other victims out there he could help too.

Barnett shifted his attention to the website for Penelope’s wellness programs.

Sooo…Gold tier membership, what do I have to do? He thought, as he clicked through the pages.

She held all kinds of weekend workshops, from healthy meal prep, strength training, yoga, spin, even open water swimming. He clicked on the link for memberships.

“Five fucking hundred dollars!” That’s practically criminal, he swore, taking a moment to consider the irony of the thought.

The event was clearly geared toward a wealthier group of people than he was used to being around. Living off veteran’s benefits didn’t leave him much wiggle room in his budget, but he had managed to sock away some money over the years. To some people $500 wasn’t a lot, but for Barnett it represented a huge chunk of his monthly income.

Looks like I’ll be cutting back on the deluxe cheeseburgers for awhile…

Reluctantly, he thumbed his digital pay, and winced as he watched $500 leave his account.

Damn, he thought.

I guess I better get some yoga gear too. Maybe I should try some thrift stores…

Shopping — Friday Late Morning

Barnett hated shopping for clothes. He’d done a lot of unpleasant things in life, but shopping tortured his very soul. Years of living out of a van had taught him to keep things minimal. But at the apartment, the clutter had started to accumulate over the past few months.

If I’m buying more stuff today, then it’s time to throw some shit out when I get back…

Barnett operated on a pretty tight budget, but he needed clothes for Saturday, and he needed to stock up on some gear. Sure, he could just go in his army joggers and a tank top, but he wanted to make sure to look the part, especially since it would be a wealthy crowd.

Gotta look rich without actually being rich…

Fortunately, he knew just where to start. There was a quaint little consignment shop just down the road from his apartment. The outside of the shop looked fairly bougee, so he was hoping they’d have something he could use.

Parking his van at the curb, he finished munching on a protein bar, then hopped out and headed toward the shop. Two planters full of purple and yellow flowers decorated either side of the entry. ‘Blue tags 50% off!’ was scribbled on a folding chalkboard on the sidewalk.

Jackpot!

A bell rang as he entered the shop. There were a few other customers inside, and a cute female clerk worked behind the counter. Gathering his surroundings, he scanned the walls to see if they had yoga gear. Sure enough, in the rear corner was a rack full of workout equipment. There were leg weights, little pink dumbbells, pilates bands, exercise balls, and yoga mats. Unfortunately for Barnett, they only had pink, light pink, and purple yoga mats.

He sighed. Looks like we’re going with light pink…My impeccably crafted masculine identity is really going to be taking a hit for this…

Next, he found the men’s section, and headed over. Flipping through the clothes hanging on the rack, he found the medium shirts.

Bingo. He pulled out a new looking athletic shirt with a zipper. This should work, even if it’s a little tight…I just gotta avoid walking into a truck stop.

Having found a shirt, he shifted to look through the pants.

Shit, only three athletic pants, and all of them sweatpants…Barnett sighed. Gotta nail the look. Sweatpants ain’t gonna cut it.

Refusing to give up, he decided to check out the women’s section. Might be able to find some chinos or joggers that I could pass off as men’s.

Moving to the women’s section, he started flipping through the options. Leggings, leggings, sweat pants, ladies' yoga pants, more leggings…Sheesh, what is it with chicks and leggings?

Searching some more, he found a pair of black chinos that he thought might work. Gonna have to try them on…

“Can I help you sir?” a high-pitched voice piped from the aisle behind him.

“Oh, just trying to find some workout clothes”, Barnett replied, turning to face the stranger.

He was met with the cute clerk. Her brunette hair was tied up into a bodkin with chopsticks, she had retro glasses, turquoise fingernails, and a floral-patterned pleated dress. She looked a little younger than he was.

“The men’s section is over there”, she pointed to where he had just been.

“Actually, I just came from there, couldn’t find anything my size”, Barnett chuckled.

The woman bristled, “Sir, this is the women’s section. If you can’t find anything your size, then you’re free to leave”, she scolded, her tone was sharp.

Barnett stood dumbfounded. Is she kicking me out for looking through women's clothes?

“Ma’am, I promise, I’m just here to buy a few things.” He held up the pair of chinos, workout shirt, and pink yoga mat.

The woman’s face hardened. “You’re not buying anything, because you’re leaving!” She shouted, as she snatched the items from his hands.

Huh? Barnett’s expression reflected his confusion at the woman’s reaction.

“Is there going to be a problem?” she continued shouting, “Because I will call the cops!”

Damn she’s feisty…Barnett thought. If it didn’t seem like she wanted to kill me, I might even be attracted to her…

“No problem here, miss”, he threw his hands up, and retreated toward the exit.

“Yeah, I thought so!” She continued shouting as he left. “And get your trashy serial killer van off my curb.”

Yeowtch…right in the feels…

Leaving the shop, Barnett paused outside to come up with a new plan.

Well, I guess that could have gone better…not sure what I did that made her so angry…

Pulling out his phone, he plugged in directions for some other thrift stores. There was one on the other side of the city, and another one nearby that was closed today.

Shit, guess I’m out of luck today…

“Excuse me? Sir?” An older woman approached him from the door of the shop.

Looking up from his phone, Barnett braced for another verbal lashing.

The woman held out a small sack. “Here are the clothes you wanted to buy”, she flashed a gentle smile.

Surprised, Barnett reached out his hand to take the bag from the stranger. “Well thank you ma’am. Not sure what I did to deserve this.”

The woman gently patted his hand as he took the bag. “No one should be treated so poorly”, she replied, “Especially the homeless.”

Errr, what? …

“It’s the least I can do!”, she continued. “You just be sure to get back on your feet, young man. You have a long life ahead of you.” And with that, the woman climbed into her car and left.

Damn, she thought I was homeless…

Barnett considered his appearance. Overgrown hair, unshaven beard, faded army cap, faded jeans, combat boots, army jogger jacket.

Shit, I guess I do kinda look homeless. No wonder that chick freaked out at me…

He raised the bag to look inside. One pair of women’s black chinos, one men’s athletic shirt, one pink yoga mat, and a bonus—white athletic shoes.

They’re even my size…Damn. Some people really are angels…

Barnett took a moment to watch the old woman drive away. Gratitude tore at his cynical heart, almost enough to make him cry.

Almost.

Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the formerly ‘cute’ clerk from before shooting him daggers through the window.

Time to make myself scarce…

Climbing into his ‘serial killer van.’ He throttled it, making sure to rev the engine a few extra times for theatrics.

Gotta play the part…

Driving back up the street toward his apartment, he checked his watch.

Noon…Still enough time to hit the hardware store for some gear. But maybe I should clean up first.

Heading back to the apartment, he hurried up the stairs, and went inside. Setting his bag by the door, he took a moment to size himself up in the mirror. Months' worth of unshaven hair covered his gaunt face.

If I’m going hunting, I guess I better fix myself up to play the part better. Don’t want a repeat of what happened today…Barnett conceded to himself, scratching his scruffy beard.

He let out a sigh as he grabbed the razor and it hummed to life.

I’ve lost too much time already, he thought as he carefully shaved along his jawline. I need to get my head in the game if I’m going to do any good for that poor girl, wherever she is.

‘God, I hope she’s okay’, Barnett whispered as he put the razor down.

Using a towel to dry his face, he assessed himself again.

Not great, but not terrible. I doubt any ladies will be falling for me, but at least I won’t look like a homeless Charles Manson…

And I’ll be marked safe from feisty thrift store clerks…

Back at the Apartment — Friday Afternoon

Pink yoga mat—check.

White athletic shirt—check.

Black women’s chinos—check.

Lockpick—check.

Digital tunneler—check.

Elevator fire keys—check.

Hard plastic shims—check.

Wi-Fi listener—check.

Remote disruptors—in progress.

Barnett fumbled with a spool of copper wire. Slowly, he coiled the wires together, and then around a little magnet. He then placed the small magnet into a little black plastic box, lined with metal everywhere except the bottom. He then wedged a cell phone battery into the top of the box, threaded the wires into a Wi-Fi receiver switch, then beneath the metal into the magneton, and clicked the box closed. And finally, he attached double sided tape to the bottom of the box.

The box was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. When switched on, it would generate just enough frequency to disrupt any small electronic device it was attached to—ideally a security camera. Normally, he would just try to aircrack the wifi to disable the cameras using his wifi listener, but he couldn’t be sure the cameras would be connected to wifi. Higher end versions of CCTV were hardwired directly to a terminal. Better to play it safe with multiple options. He figured he had enough battery in the transmitters for four quick bursts, just enough to slip past any security camera undetected. He would only be able to conceal three disruptors in his fanny pack without suspicion, but he figured it would be more than enough. He had a drone he could use to attach the disruptors to any unreachable cameras, but he was certain there was no way to safely conceal the drone in his pack. He would just have to hope that wily maneuvering would be enough to hide from the unreachable cameras, and that any he couldn’t avoid would be within arm's reach.

Barnett had pulled up satellite images and public records of the house. It was a sprawling mid-century estate on the lakeshore, premium real estate. Based on public images of the inside, he expected to encounter at least one elevator. The fire keys could be used to put the elevator in emergency mode. He also didn’t know whether he would encounter physical, electronic keypad, or electronic keycard locks. To be safe he would bring gear for all three. The lockpick and plastic shim were easy enough to conceal, but the digital tuneller was bulkier. He would have to hide it as best he could, and hope that no one searched him.

It’s just yoga, right? Surely there won’t be security guards…

He would use the camera on his phone to record anything he found, since it would rouse the least suspicion.

And one final piece of gear—the charging cable.

To the unwary eye, this simple cable with a usb on one end and lightning on the other would rouse zero suspicion. However, embedded in the lightning end was a small chipset that would register as an auxiliary keyboard on any connected device. This would allow Barnett to remotely track both phone key input, and—most importantly—allow Barnett to remotely add his own inputs. If he was somehow able to connect it to any of her devices, he could order it to dump files to his personal remote drive. The process would be overt, though, so it would have to be done while the device was inactive. That meant he would need to find a device, and leave the cable connected after he left. If anyone found it while it was active, they’d know for sure one of the guests was trying to hack in.

With the gear out of the way, Barnett shifted his attention to public records of the house.

Commissioned to be built in 1952 by one Edmund Spencer, a wealthy anthropologist who had specialized in the recovery of artifacts from shipwrecks. Apparently, he made quite a bit of money selling the artifacts to museums, a practice which has been outlawed almost everywhere since then. The house passed to his granddaughter upon his death at the age of 110.

‘Jeez, dude pillaged shipwrecks and lived to 110. I guess crime does pay’, muttered Barnett.

His eyes honed in on the transfer of the deed.

Edmund’s granddaughter, Dorothy Spencer took control of his entire estate in 2012 following a brief stint through probate court when Edmund’s nephew Hans attempted to sue for portions of the estate to be transferred to him instead of Dorothy.

2012…the same year Penelope retired from practicing medicine, thought Barnett, there has to be some significance…

Dorothy still owned the estate, and by all accounts she still lived there. But she was rarely seen in public, and had no social media to speak of. The best image he could find was of her receiving her PhD in Epigenetics in 2014. She looked to be roughly the same age as Penelope, close to the same height, but with blonde hair. He couldn’t find a good picture of her face, though, which he found suspicious. He also saw a few research papers published in medical journals over the years…seems like a theme.

He still couldn’t understand why Dorothy and Penelope shared the same address, and both had medical research backgrounds.

Perhaps they were the same person?

He’d poke around tomorrow to see if he could find any useful information on Dorothy.

Barnett pulled up aerial images of the estate, along with whatever he could find from street view and Penelope’s social media.

The house itself was massive, mid-century design, styled like a Frank Lloyd Wright. It had one ground floor with a towering main entryway fanning on one side into what appeared to be a hearth room and kitchen, straddled on the backside by a five-car garage…

Sheesh…plenty of room for unmarked vehicles registered to defunct LLCs…

To the other side of the entryway, the house sprawled into two levels, a collection of additions that undoubtedly consisted of bedrooms put to various uses. Behind the living quarters, there was an adjoining solarium. The whole house was straddled lakeside by an immense patio with an outdoor kitchen, bar, and lounge.

Someone clearly liked entertaining guests…

The patio opened into a wide terrace with shrubbery and open lawn. According to the event invite, this is where Penelope would be holding her workshop. Past the terrace was an Olympic sized pool, with stonework and half-waterfalls on both sides. Past the pool was a thin hedgerow, followed by about 200 ft of dunes and then beach. Lake Michigan glistened in the distance, visible from nearly every inch of the estate.

Barnett shifted his attention to his notepad.

He didn’t have much information on the layout of the house on the inside. But he knew from photos of the entryway that there was a large elevator leading up to the living quarters. If there was a basement, the elevator would be the most direct access.

Finding evidence on the disappearance of Elizabeth was his first priority. So, he’d start in the garage. He knew the suspect’s vehicle had a fleet number with no tags, and maybe he could find something. Next, he would need to find Penelope’s office, or at least a server room of some kind, and get his snooping devices installed. He wouldn’t have time to go through the computers in person, so he would have to do that remotely. Then he wanted to find the master suite, to determine if Penelope and Dorothy were actually the same person.

Finally, he would need to locate the basement. If Elizabeth was being held captive, the basement seemed like an obvious place to ‘dig around’, metaphorically speaking. He only had three disruptors though, so the extent of his exploration would be limited by the scope and locations of any security cameras he encountered.

In terms of an escape plan…Well…he didn’t have one.

Don’t get caught, he repeated to himself as he closed the laptop and placed the notepad next to his gear.

He had planned like he was breaking into a federal penitentiary, but it was probably overkill.

Barnett’s cynicism flourished.

Elizabeth was likely long gone, there was no way Penelope would keep her at the house, let alone keep her around at all. Too much risk. She had probably handed Elizabeth over to whoever was paying the highest price. She had already taken so much effort to cover her tracks, he was unlikely to find anything tomorrow.

Barnett took a deep breath as he rubbed his temples, the migraine returning with force.

Right?

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The Woman in the Sunken Mirror - CHAPTER 1

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CHAPTER 1Missing

On September 16, 2021, Elizabeth Sanders went out for drinks with

her two closest friends. Later that evening they saw her leaving the bar

with a woman she just met. Elizabeth was reported missing the next day.

Barnett rubbed his eyes as he looked up from his laptop—a migraine forming beneath his temples. His one room apartment was meager—a clear bachelor’s pad. His army days had taught him tidiness, but not how to decorate,

Or how to cook…he mused to himself.

His plush queen mattress was still practically brand new, even after a year. Instead, Barnett had made the sofa his command center. He had grown accustomed to passing out on it after long hours on his laptop.

He returned his attention to the screen.

Two months since his last lead, and approaching one year since the Sanders girl’s disappearance. Forensics determined it to be an abduction due to traces of flunitrazepam—ruffies—found in her drink. CCTV wasn’t able to pick up state issued tags on the abduction vehicle, but it did get a fleet number. Barnett had been calling lift agencies, for-hire drivers, chauffeurs, and rental companies for weeks, looking for vehicles that matched the number and description. Sleek black sedan, tinted windows, low profile rims, female driver. He even sent the fleet number and description to his buddy who worked in county records.

Nothing. No plates, no witnesses, no records. And no other cameras caught the vehicle that night.

And not much for the description of the kidnapper either. Female, 20s or 30s, Caucasian, dark shoulder length hair, below average height, slim build. She wore a red plaid skirt, goth boot heels, black hoodie, and sunglasses. She knew where the cameras were, and how to avoid them.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, was easy to spot. She was unusually tall, close to 6’1. She had a strong athletic build, vibrant dirty blonde hair pulled into a knot, optimistic light brown eyes, and a distinctive heart tattoo on the inside of her left wrist. The second child of working-class parents, she had been born and raised in Grand Rapids. Her father worked as a journeyman electrician and passed away when she was 15. He had lived long enough to see his little girl become state champ in the 1500m. The untimely death of her father devastated the family, but especially her mother, Madeleine. A small blessing came in the form of a sizable life insurance payout, much of which Madeleine had spent on private investigators to look into her daughter’s disappearance. Elizabeth’s older brother, Harrison, was married with two kids, living in Grand Haven, and working the wharf for private yachts. It was Harrison who had taken over care of his grieving mother. And it was Harrison who had initially contacted Barnett about his sister’s disappearance.

‘Bzzzz….’ Barnett’s train of thought was interrupted as he looked up from his laptop.

He could see the street lights beginning to flicker through the window of his apartment. Checking the time, he closed the laptop, grabbed his jacket, and went outside.

The late summer sky was clear, with a few cirrus clouds glowing pink with the setting sun. While not as temperate as the lakefront, Grand Rapids still benefited from its proximity to the lake, with mild summer days, and cool summer nights. Once the sun dipped past the horizon, a swift evening breeze could bring a quick chill. Barnett always found it a refreshing time of day to get out of the apartment.

Heading down the street, he made his way to St. John’s just as the parishioners began filling in for evening mass. Barnett wasn’t a particularly religious man. He once had been. But over the years he’d traded his spirituality for something far colder and more cynical. Keeping the tradition of mass brought him comfort, though—something about the ritual and routine of it, the moral assurance of right and wrong.

The cathedral wasn’t huge, but it was big enough for him to hide in the back without having to worry about attracting unwanted social advances from other church goers. There was a quaint lobby, opening into the sanctuary. The sanctuary had a high ceiling, with beautifully exposed timber buttresses. Stained glass covered the walls, and at the right time of day, the whole sanctuary was filled with colorful splashes of light. The sanctuary was straddled on one side by the offices, and the library on the other. There was a basement with a social hall that was used for gatherings and potlucks. Barnett hadn't made a habit of attending any of the social events.

Entering the cathedral, he found his usual place in the back. Keeping his head down, he waited for mass to begin. It wasn’t long before the priest made his way toward the pulpit. As the liturgy rang on, Barnett's attention waned.

He closed his eyes and lowered his head, lost somewhere between prayer and reflection. His mind slipped into the subconscious, a waking dream filling his mind.

The ghastly form of a woman took shape in his mind’s eye, her face shrouded and diffuse. A low, eerie song hummed in his chest, drawing him to her.

Elizabeth, Barnett thought to himself, though, he couldn’t be sure. The image was quickly clouded as he felt his senses suddenly overcome by waves of hopelessness.

One missing woman was like a drop in the ocean.

Thousands of women go missing every year. So many are trafficked, so many fall into addiction and overdose, many are sexually abused and discarded like trash, some sold into prostitution, and some killed.

Barnett had investigated many disappearances. Daughters, wives, mothers, sisters, friends. Nearly every time the news was the same. After 48 hours, it became significantly harder to find a missing person. Even if they eventually turned up, parts of them would be missing forever through trauma. And of the girls who were found, many would fall into depression or self-harm.

Not all scars can be seen…Barnett whispered to himself.

To her parents, Elizabeth meant the world. But her father was already gone, and her mother pining away in grief, their life savings spent to find her. Even if he did manage to find Elizabeth, as unlikely as it was at this point, she would come back to a family in shambles. And finding her would do nothing for all those other girls, and the devastated friends and families left in their wake—whose memories haunted him.

And yet, the woman had possessed him.

‘Find me’, she softly called to him.

Her voice was ethereal, but nigh a perceivable whisper, as if she were in the pew next to him.

‘Find me’, she echoed, her voice beginning to fade into the crashing waves of cynicism.

‘BEEP…BEEP…BEEP’

‘Oh shit’, Barnett muttered to himself as he glanced at his phone, abruptly jolting from his musings.

Shit, it’s Cole, my buddy from the records office. I have to take this.

Parishioners shot daggers his way as he bashfully vacated the pew and retreated from the sanctuary into the lobby.

“Hey Cole, tell me you have something,” quipped Barnett.

“Hey Lieutenant. That’s a yes and no. Fleet numbers are usually generic for each company, and there is no public record of fleet numbers for business vehicles. And so, we aren’t able to identify any specific vehicle.”

“So, nothing then…”, quipped Barnett.

“Not so fast”, answered Cole.

“As it turns out, sheriff’s deputies found an abandoned vehicle matching your description earlier today in the dunes off I-196 near Saugatuck.”

“The vehicle was mostly burned out, but they were able to match the fleet number and description you gave us. They also pulled a VIN number.”

“Let me guess, salvaged title, defunct LLC…” mused Barnett.

“Close” replied Cole.

“Salvaged title, and the LLC went out of business in 2019.”

“I’m going to forward you the list of previously recorded phone numbers and addresses associated with this company. Thought you might want to take a look. Give me a sec”

A brief moment later, Barnett’s phone lit up with a list of addresses and numbers from Cole.

“Thanks Cole! I owe you one”, Barnett said.

“No problem”, said Cole as he ended the call.

This is the biggest lead I’ve had in months, Barnett thought to himself, pushing through the doors of the chapel and heading up the sidewalk toward his apartment.

A gentle breeze egged him on.

Rushing inside, he once again grabbed his laptop, and plopped on the sofa, the blue glow of the screen illuminating his tired features, unkempt dirty blonde hair, unshaven face, and pale blue eyes.

As Barnett scanned the document from Cole, he noted six phone numbers and three previous addresses. He recognized the addresses to be generic out of state business addresses that many new or small companies use.

Totally useless.

His focus shifted to the phone numbers, six of them.

Harder to fake phone numbers. Barnett thought.

A quick search on each number yielded nothing.

But the internet never forgets, Barnett reminded himself.

As a wayward teenager, he had participated in his own share of internet malarkey. Barnett knew many public internet archives kept snapshots of webpages that had been long since deleted.

Someone had gone to great lengths to tie up any loose ends around the Sanders girl’s disappearance. But the internet never forgets.

Barnett plugged the numbers into the archive, and one of them showed a hit. It was an archived webpage for a family health clinic in Grand Rapids. The site certificate showed 2009. There was a small tab displaying a list of partnered providers.

And their phone numbers… Barnett held his breath.

“I’ll be damned”, he whispered to himself.

There it was. his needle in the haystack. The number was listed below the name of a partnered physician,

‘PENELOPE STONE, NEUROLOGIST, MD PHD’

Barnett quickly copied the name into his notepad.

Her contact card was listed as a provider for lab work as well as outpatient neurology. A quick search showed that she had retired from practicing medicine in 2012. But she did have quite a few articles in health and neuroscience publications, with the earliest dated in December 2001, and the latest dated January 21st of this year.

I guess she decided to shift her attention toward research, Barnett thought to himself.

She also apparently was quite active on social media. Her profile was littered with photos of herself doing yoga, cooking food, swimming, and traveling—pretty generic influencer stuff, thought Barnett. He pulled up another picture of her doing a handstand on some sand dunes—okay, I’m a little impressed, he thought. In another picture she could be seen flashing peace signs while posing next to a clearly intoxicated companion at a local sports bar.

She was cute, and looked about the same age as he was—in her late 30s—which was a great deal younger than he would have expected for someone who was publishing in medical journals back in 2001. She generally kept her dark hair in a playful neck-length bob, although that seemed to change from time to time. She had a fit build with lightly tanned skin, and was clearly very active. She definitely didn’t seem to be very tall. In fact, Barnett would almost describe her as…Oh shit…

Short.

‘No fucking way’, Barnett mumbled. Physical description of culprit—match. Association with abduction vehicle—match. Likes to hang out at sports bars—match. There were even photos where she could be seen sporting a strikingly ‘goth’ ensemble, with all-too-familiar black goth boot heels.

Pretty bold…to continue using the same shoes you wore while kidnapping someone.

Two months of sitting on his thumbs, and in less than two hours he had not only stumbled upon the abduction vehicle, but also a suspect.

Not just a suspect, Barnett thought.

His intuition told him that this woman, Penelope, was the same woman from the CCTV footage. She drugged Elizabeth, she convinced her to get in her car, she purposefully hid her face from the camera. And someone scrubbed the records, set up a fake LLC, and burned the car. And yet, why would she then have such a public social media presence?

Something about it felt off, and it churned his stomach, much like the sense of hopelessness he had felt during mass. He was exhausted, and his head throbbed from fatigue. He put the laptop aside and threw himself back against the cushions, running his hands through his hair. Barnett was certain this woman Penelope was responsible for Elizabeth’s disappearance. But there was something deeper about it all, something ominous.

He rubbed his eyes.

‘Find me’, the woman had said in his dream during mass. ‘Find me.’

He didn’t know how to find Elizabeth. But he knew how to find Penelope.

First thing in the morning, he’d begin the hunt.

But right now, Sleep…

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The Woman in the Sunken Mirror - PROLOGUE

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PROLOGUEThe Little Girl

She ran toward the car, adorned head to toe in her little white swimsuit, yellow towel in her petite hand.

“Honey, stay out of the street!” her mom called from the doorway, dark hair done up in finger waves beneath a straw sun hat with a single black band. Her white lace sundress rippled in the gentle breeze, complementing her womanly figure. She carried a picnic basket in one hand, and a beach umbrella in the other.

Out from the garage burst her father, towel draped over his scruffy face, his slicked blonde hair poking over the top. He was hunched over with elbows stretched out, burly bare feet plodding across the concrete.

“Better watch out, love, the lake monster is going to get you,” he growled in a poor attempt at a scary voice.

She squealed at seeing him, racing to hide behind the Roadster, using her yellow towel to conceal herself. “You can’t find me daddy” she whispered, giggling to herself.

Her father paused to stand up straight. “Where did she go?” he said, feigning befuddlement.

She giggled to herself from beneath the haven of her little towel, the hot concrete starting to burn her little feet.

“Is that laughter, I hear?!” her father cried, hobbling over to where she was hiding.

“Oh no, you found me daddy!” she squealed, throwing the towel off into the grass.

Her father swooped her up into his arms, and blew raspberries into her neck, as she continued to giggle uncontrollably.

Tumbling together into the grass, she clawed her way on top of her father, tickling his armpits as he faked death noises.

“Ah…ow…oh”, he growled, “she’s got me.” He flopped down, pretending to pass out.

She sat on top of him, still giggling, “Wake up daddy, you have to chase me again”, she pleaded, pushing on his chest.

“Chasing will have to wait, honey”, her mother called from the Roadster. “Everything’s loaded except for you two silly heads.”

Rousing from his false slumber, her father wrapped her up, holding her sideways under one arm, and stood to place her into the back seat.

“We’ll play more at the beach, love”, he said, closing the door, and rolling down the top.

“Awww…” she pouted, “Why do we have to wait so long?”

Her mother turned to look at her from the driver’s seat, “Honey, sometimes waiting is just as important as having fun”, she encouraged, starting the car. “Without the anticipation, all that fun would get boring pretty fast”, she continued, as her husband climbed in the passenger side.

The little girl listened, silently pouting to herself in the back seat.

Her mother then turned the radio to the jazz station, and backed out of the driveway, taking off down the road. Noticing her pout, the little girl’s father turned to look at her over the leather bench.

“How about this”, he suggested, “try to imagine a little man through the window as we drive. Make sure that he can keep up with the car, and have him jump over all the obstacles.”

She looked up with big blue eyes, full of a child’s curiosity, “I want my little man to have blonde hair like you daddy.”

Her father smiled, “He can have whatever color hair you like. And in no time at all, we’ll be at the beach, just wait and see.”

“Okay…” she sighed, reluctantly looking out the window as the automobile buzzed down the road.

She imagined her little man, blonde hair and a slick goatee, just like her daddy. She gave him turquoise eyes because it was her favorite color. He ran next to the car. He was fast, and good at jumping. No tree, mailbox, or telephone pole was too tall or too long. The little man could do it all.

As they pulled onto the shoulder for the beach, she imagined her little man standing atop the red lighthouse on the pier. She waved goodbye to her little man, and he waved back, his turquoise eyes fading from her imagination.

As soon as her mom stopped the Roadster, the little girl jumped out and made a beeline toward the water.

“Honey, don’t run away from us!” her mom called after her as her dad chased.

She plunged into the waves, flailing her arms like her father had shown her. Holding her breath, she dove under, grabbing a handful of sand, and watching it slip through her fingers. As she surfaced, she squealed with excitement when her father jumped into the wave next to her, making a huge splash that covered her face and knocked her over.

Pushing strands of brown hair out of her eyes, she giggled as she blew the water out of her mouth. “No fair, daddy, your splashes are too big.”

Once again able to see, her eyes filled with mischief and she began splashing her father’s face repeatedly.

“Oh, playing dirty, I see. Well, two can play at that game”, he teased.

Grabbing her around the waist, he lifted her against his chest, and lunged together into the next wave.

‘SPLASH…’ They plunged together beneath the water, as he released her from his grasp.

Swimming deftly behind him, she climbed onto his back as he surfaced, tickling his neck.

“Ooow”, he cried, “You’ve bested me again.”

The time flew by, filled with waves, and splashes, and sand, and laughter.

As the sun began to set, she knew her time of fun was drawing to a close.

Diving under, she floated, holding herself in place for a moment, totally submerged, savoring the moment. Then suddenly kicking against the water, she pushed up to breathe, her feet not yet long enough to touch the bottom of the sand bar.

Her dad swept up from beneath the water, grabbing her in his arms, tossing her up into the air and catching her.

“Almost time to go, love”, he said softly, bringing her back into his wet embrace, then jumping together against the next swell.

She wiggled free, and swam beneath the waves to tickle her father’s feet.

Surfacing for air she let out another giggle, “Got you again, daddy.”

Her father feigned a scream, and played dead, floating on his back against another oncoming wave.

“It’s getting late!” she heard her mother cry from the shore.

“I don’t wanna go yet”, she pleaded.

“Love, we can always come back next weekend”, her father answered.

“No, I want to stay!” she pouted, diving back beneath the waves.

She swam toward the edge of the sand bar, trying to escape the inevitable.

A strong current tugged at her light body, and she felt herself being swept away from the sand bar. Kicking and flailing against the current, her little body was no match for the strong pull.

Panic took hold of her. Splashing to the surface, she screamed for her father.

She watched as his image faded into the distance, sparkling blue surrounding her on all sides.

She could hear him shouting after her, swimming as fast as he could, but the current was faster.

She lurched as her small body was pulled under once, then again. Many times.

Water filled her lungs.

Her consciousness began to drift, long brown hair floating about her head. She was barely aware of the cold, scaly hands that slowly wrapped around her, pulling her into the deep.

Just before darkness took her, she heard a faint melody, haunting and otherworldly,

A song meant just for her. A final lullaby as she drifted to sleep.

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