Quiet Lost is a story of betrayal, murder, love and lost love. It will require several chapters to tell Neil’s story.
Tuesday morning, September 15
Tears streaked his cheeks. The pain, the regret, the disbelief crippled any action.
Finally the cold of lake water in his boots convinced him to budge from his paralysis. He pulled off his Bayfield dress boots and socks and tossed them toward the truck. He rolled over on his hands and knees, pushed himself up on his feet as if he were an old man, not his robust thirty-eight years.
He had managed to escape one set of pursuers last night, but how long would it be before they and the police would be in a relentless search for him.
He had no cell phone – his brother was in possession of not only his phone but his BMW. A burning anger welled in his chest turning his vision red. He swung his fist and hit the door frame of his brother’s early 90’s model Chevy pickup. The pain cleared his head. Dark red trickled from his knuckle and mingled with dried brown smudges of his wife’s lifeblood.
He turned and stumbled back to the water’s edge scrubbing his hands vigorously until all signs of Samantha’s blood were removed from his skin. His shirt would have to replaced – the only way to be rid of those stains.
He cupped his hands and drank as much of the cold water as his stomach would hold, splashed his face, running wet hands through his hair. Retrieving his boots and socks, he set them on the hood to catch some warm rays.
The only way he would have the will to move forward from this moment on would be if he were able to employ his rage as fuel. He had always told his sweet, pre-teen daughter, “Cassie, don’t let your anger run you. Use it as a tool, like a calculator – consider how you can take this problem and solve it like a puzzle – you’re a pro at puzzles. Let’s figure it out,” all while touching her arm or shoulder, ever supporting her right to have and face any dilemma.
If Samantha was within earshot, her eyes would get warm and full of want for him – he could feel her love in her gaze. How would he live now without that soft surrounding? His girls, his beautiful girls gone forever.
He bent at the waist, laying his chest on the hood of the truck, slowly pounding the sides of his fists on the stiff metal and cried till he had no more tears.
Click on Quiet Lost: Chapter 3 to the right.