Last Night at the Beach House by Harlow Claire

Author:Harlow, Claire [Harlow, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0CW18R626
Published: 2024-03-10T22:00:00+00:00

14

As I navigated the winding roads, the storm painted the landscape in shades of muted gray and black. I wished I had brought Barkley with me, so I could have stayed the night at the Johnson’s.

Raindrops poured like a waterfall down my windshield, the wipers struggling to keep up with the downpour.

Leaning forward slightly, I peered through the glass at the desolate darkness surrounding me. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel in an effort to control my car being pushed by the lapping winds.

My brow furrowed. I thought I heard a shuffling noise coming from the back of my car. Taking in a deep breath, I reasoned with myself. It had to have been the storm playing tricks on my ears.

A few minutes later, I groaned when my gas light came on. Thankfully, there was a gas station about five miles down the road.

Then, to my horror, I felt something wrap around my neck and tighten. It wasn’t cutting off my air supply completely, but the pressure was enough to cause discomfort. My heart pounding, I took one of my hands to try to loosen it. This made the person in my backseat give it a tug of warning.

Pulling to the side of the road, I tried to speak.

My voice came out strained but clear enough to understand. “Please stop!”

A gloved handheld a device to my ear. what was apparently a prerecorded message played.

The person had used some sort of voice modifier. “You will pin this murder on Samantha Davis. You will come up with evidence against her and have her arrested within a week’s time, or you will join Richard in the afterlife. Now, I want to hear your agreement, or I’ll end you here and now.”

The person tightened the rope for effect.

I nodded to show my agreement, and the rope went slack enough for me to speak. “Yes, I’ll do it,” I lied. “Please let me go,” I said, my voice cracking with fear. “Please.”

I fought against the tears threatening to spill, but I couldn’t fight against the trembling in every part of my body.

The device reappeared in my peripheral vision. “How long do you have? Say it.”

“Within a week.”

The gloved thumb pushed a button once again. “And who murdered Richard?”

“Sa—Samantha Davis.”

I felt the rope hit my lap just before the person opened the car door to make a swift exit into the darkness. Slamming my car into drive, I sped off and turned into the gas station. Pulling my car under the lighted parking lot, I quickly got out and shut the back door. Then I scurried back into my seat and locked the doors.

The weight of fear and adrenaline pressed heavily on my chest. My trembling hands went to my neck before picking up the rope. I focused on steadying my breathing as tears streamed down my face. The residual tremors in my limbs mirrored the intensity of the threat and a deep, guttural sob escaped. The world outside the rainy windows blurred even more as my vision clouded with the remnants of terror.

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