If Only She'd Loved Him

Saturday 4:15 pm

Lit by her cell phone, Jean looked more ghost than girl, as she studied the screen.  Matt spoke up.  "Any luck?  Any cabins owned by a Miller?"

"No and no. You were right.  It is a big lake."

"It's not too late," he responded. "We could still just go back.  We don't even know if the guy is there anyway."

"Why else would Sean have gone there, if he wasn't?" she replied.

"That's just the point," Matt argued, getting more and more annoyed with her astounding lack of logic.  "We don't even know if Sean did go there.  It's not like he left a big map in his room with an arrow pointing to Cameron Lake.  We found that picture hidden under his bed for Christ's sake."

She refused to comment on his observation.  "I've got a feeling he's there."

He bit his tongue. Save me from women's intuition, he thought.  Turning the wheel, he got off at the exit that said Cameron Lake twenty miles.

"So, psychic one, do we have a game plan?  What are we going to do when we get there?  How do you propose we're even going to find this cabin in the first place?  Ouija board?  Tarot cards?  Or perhaps we should just call one of those 1-900 numbers and ask the local bog witch where it is?"

Jean chose to ignore his sarcasm.  "I thought we'd find a bar and ask around.  Maybe even find an old phone book," she replied.

"Now you're talking.  I could go for a beer about now," he grinned.  "And you're paying for it, since it's your fault we're out here in the middle of nowhere."  Rain started to spatter down on the car.  Matt switched his wipers on along with his headlights.  The thick trees on the side of the road made the day seem darker than it was on the open highway.

She sighed.  "Sure, fine, I'll buy you a beer.  I'll buy you a keg if this place gives us any answers.  It still doesn't add up for me."  She shivered as she watched the rain fall.  Reaching for the heater, she turned the knob up full blast.  The warm air took a minute but then it hit her like a sauna.  "That's better," she said, "I like it hot."

The devil himself couldn't have offered a more suggestive grin. "I'm sure you do."  His fingertips brushed across her thigh, even through her jeans he felt her tense up. He felt better. You couldn't hide feelings like those. He left his hand on her leg, curious to see what she'd do. She did what he hoped; she left it there, then covered his hand with her own.

"I really appreciate this," she smiled at him. 

"Hey, it's a nice night for a drive," he laughed, pointing to the rain which had started to fall in wet slaps on the car.  He turned the windshield wipers up a notch.  Jean was still smiling at him.  Her open lips, soft and pink.  He wondered what she'd taste like?  Would it be sweet with just a little kick? Would her tongue be as quick as her wit, wrapping, reaching, pulling him, driving him deeper until they filled each other past full. Matt started to sweat.  It was too hot in here.

Jean didn't think so.  She was cold.  The rain seemed to reach right through the window glass at her.  She pressed down harder on Matt's hand, wanting to take some of the warmth he was emanating. Then sliding Megan's note out of her pocket, she flicked the passenger door light on, and held her hands up to the heater.  The paper grew warm in her hands.

Matt, slightly red in the face, leaned over and started to switch off the heat.  "Jean," he complained, "it's like an inferno in here.  I'm turning this down."

"No!" She put her hand on his wrist, stopping him.  Her eyes were huge.  "Pull over," she demanded.                 

"Why?  We're almost to the lake."

"Just do it!"

By now he knew better than to argue.  With a quick shrug, he spun the wheel to the side of the road.  Pulling the car to a stop, he set the brakes and left the ignition running.  His headlights illuminated a few wisps of fog in their beams.

"Now what?" he asked, half wishing she wanted him to pull over because it was a rainy night and they were alone in a car together.  There were much more interesting things to be doing than driving.  But all Jean did was hand him Megan's note.

"See anything?" she asked.

Disappointed, he glanced at it.  "Yeah, the letter Megan wrote you telling you she was fine, and this was a wild goose chase."

"No," she took paper back under her control.  "Not the written words, on the other side of the paper, there's something there," she insisted.  Some detective he was.  She flipped the letter over, still holding it in front of the heater.  Streaks came to life on the paper, forming lines and circles.  Yellow lines darkened to amber then became outlined in brown.  The paper was hot to touch.

"What?" Matt jumped as images formed that weren't there before.  "Did Megan spill something on this?"

"Yes she did, but it looks like it was on purpose."  Holding up the note, she flipped on all the lights in the car.  The lettering wasn't perfect.  She had to guess at some of the word.  But HELP was clear as day.