Dead Echo

  *

  The kitchen was a cozy enough affair. They’d gotten over introductions ten minutes before and Patsy had excused herself to the bathroom. Elizabeth thought she seemed nice enough. Talked a little fast, sure, but there was really nothing to pinpoint the feeling of dread she’d felt across the street, in the driveway. Thinking back over the succession of sleepless nights, right here in the light of day in this sunlight-filled kitchen, the connection was hard to make. But still there remained a sense of unease. And she’d grown accustomed to never underestimate her intuitions. The years had proved her right time after time and there was no reason to doubt them now. She turned from where she stood and looked toward the range. Everything spotless, nothing out of place. But still…

  You see it, but still refuse…

  The idea came like a loose feather, teased along by the wind, shuffling through on the very edge of perceptibility. And then it came clear.

  A movie set. Once implanted, the thought was impossible to deny. This place was a mere set, a sham. This house no more lived in than some deserted motel out on the far edge of a desert. The familiar tickle of realization pulled though her like a faint heartbeat.

  “Mrs. Elizabeth?” she heard suddenly as if from a great distance, some chasm of understanding. She started back to the present. Patsy already moving toward her as she spun around, her face a mass of pity. “Oh I’m sorry, I scared you!” Elizabeth heard her say as she came into focus. A vision was on her now that she could scarcely contain. She reached for a chair, pulled it her way and sat down heavily. She could feel her heart pounding like a hammer. Saw the younger woman down on one knee, one hand on each of her knees. Looking worriedly into Elizabeth’s eyes. And at that moment Elizabeth knew this poor woman kneeling before her would be no more able to escape whatever approaching doom was coming than Christ on His cross.