A Deadly Winter Retreat

|18|

THE SOUND OF my phone chimed to the rhythm of the snowflakes falling outside. Hastily, I picked it up, desperately longing for Lena's voice. But disappointment laid dormant under my fueled hopes.

"Hello?!" I greeted, my voice tinged with haste.

"Hello, is this Trish?" A deep, gravelly voice inquired.

"Speaking."

"I have an update about those letters, Trish." Leroy breathed into the phone, "Have you received any more?"

"No, we haven't." I confirmed, "What's the update?" I asked, anxiety sending a trail of tremors through my body.

"I think I have a good idea who's behind them," Leroy responded, "But I need you to come to my office first."

My eyebrows arched in skepticism, "Why can't you just tell me over the phone?"

"It's a complicated matter. I don't trust discussing it on the phone. There's a risk to you, Troy, maybe even your friends," Leroy's voice trembled with fear.

"I'm not sure if we can make it," I hesitated, pondering how to navigate through the snowstorm to reach Leroy's location. "We're in Pine Glacier Hills, and the snowstorm is relentless."

"Damn it!" Leroy exclaimed, frustration dripping from his words. "I've heard about that damn snowstorm up there."

He sighed into the phone, "So, it appears you're trapped up there." Leroy coughed,

The word "trapped" echoed in my thoughts, setting its roots deep within my subconscious. Trapped –that's what we were.

"Do you have any weapons on you?"

"Weapons?!" I asked in shock, "Are we actually in that much danger that we need weapons?"I inquired further.

"Gosh darn it!" Leroy exclaimed, "It'd be a great idea if you or Troy could grab some weapons- anything to protect yourselves."

"No, Leroy, we don't have weapons on us." I responded with disbelief, its tone evident in my voice, "We never bring weapons with us on our annual winter vacation to Pine Glacier Hills. We came here to relax. Why on God's green earth would we bring weapons with us?" I questioned Leroy further, "Plus, there's a snowstorm outside. We can't leave our cabin."

"There's a very sick person after you." He warned.

"Why can't you call the police and inform them? Let them know you've identified the person behind the letters?" I implored, desperation straining my voice.

Leroy heaved a sigh of frustration, "I can't do that just yet. I, unfortunately, don't have enough evidence to present them with," he said, his agitation palpable, fear tangled with his words.

My heart raced faster than a speeding jet, eager to uncover the truth and discover who was behind those letters. The line remained silent, breeding a knot of apprehension within me. The weight of the unknown settled in, wrapping me in a cocoon of unease.

"Leroy, I need to know, please!" I begged, desperation evident in my tone.

He let out another frustrated sigh, "She was committed to a mental institution just last year. However, she was discharged without finishing up her treatment."

I desperately racked my brain. Faces of friends, family members, and work associates flooded my thoughts one by one, but none of them had ever been committed before- not that I knew of anyway. The urgency and distress grew with every fruitless memory.

"Are you sure I know this person?"I asked, my tone laced with uncertainty.

The phone went silent. I waited for Leroy's response, but there was none.

"Leroy?"

A high-pitched screech ricocheted through the phone line, followed by a hoarse scream piercing my ears, causing me to lower the phone.

My heart thumped against my ribcage. Quickly, I brought the phone back to my ear, and scuffling noises made their way through the line, then a huffing breath and a scream.

"Leroy, is everything alright?!" I asked fearfully, concern lacing my voice. I could hear Leroy crying out for help. His voice strained and ragged as he fought to respond. Through the auditory fragments, I pieced together the ordeal-

Leroy was being attacked.

"Leroy, it's going to be alright. I'm calling the police now!"

I quickly ended the call, and with jittery fingers, I dialed 9-1-1.

***

The night was dark and lonely as I sat on the beige sofa in the living room, impatiently awaiting a return call from the Arcaden Police Department. I had called them as soon as I hung up the phone, describing the terrifying background noises that echoed through the ring. Leroy's words and screams invaded my thoughts like an unstoppable waterfall. Enveloped in fear, I hoped fervently that Leroy was alright.

Troy came down and started a cozy fire for me. He placed a few logs into the fireplace, struck a match, and the flames flickered into the air, shifting from an orangish hue to a deep red. The crackling sounds of the burning wood resonated in my ears, and the scent of the smoldering timber wafted through the air.

Gina and Dale remained within the confines of their room. Gina couldn't cease her tears and seemed to have fallen into a state of depression.

"I feel like I'm living in an episode of the Twilight Zone," she sobbed. "But this feels even worse—it's like we're trapped in a horror movie."

Dale reached out gently to her, taking her hand in his. He guided her upstairs to their bedroom, where they spent most of the day. Dale lay beside her, offering comfort as he held her in his arms.

Troy settled down on the couch next to me. He took my hand, placing his hand over mine as he leaned against my shoulder. Before long, he drifted off to sleep. When I noticed his droopy eyes beginning to open, I pleaded with him to go upstairs and rest for the night. I knew he wanted to be a supportive partner, but I didn't want to drain his energy for my own sake.

When he went upstairs and settled into bed, my phone rang with an unconscious urgency.

"Hello?!" I picked up.

"Hello, this is Officer Jones. May I speak with Trish?" His tone was sullen yet authoritative.

"This is she," I replied hastily.

"Hi, Trish. We visited the office of Private Investigator Leroy Thompson." He spoke into the phone, his voice low and mellow, and it struck me with worry that something wasn't right.

"It appears Leroy's been stabbed to death," Jones stated apologetically, "We've already notified his next of kin. I'm sorry."

I brought the phone down from my ear, my body trembling. Shock and disbelief coursed through my mind, confusion growing within me.

And just when I thought things couldn't get worse. Dale called out to me from the foyer of the cabin, "Trish? Are you expecting any mail?"

I hurriedly rushed into the foyer, "No." I replied as I shook my head, my brows raised in confusion.

"Well, what's that?" Dale pointed down to the hardwood floor near the cabin's front door. I glanced down at the envelope, and without hesitation, I bent down and picked it up. With shaky hands, I slipped the letter out of the envelope and unraveled it.

Hello Trish, the games have begun.

Good luck with trying to stay alive.

Oh, and before I forget,

Have Fun! ;-)