Cold Comfort: Friday, July 12, 2024 – Agatha (4)

from Dina Lauritsen’s statement to the police, Friday, July 12

I was in the lodge, and I think I was alone. You can’t always tell if Lydia’s in the kitchen, but things were really quiet. Nobody was at the desk. I was sitting there with a book, sort of waiting for human contact, I guess, and things felt weird. I don’t really have a reason for it, but they did, so I was jumpy. I couldn’t eat. I just sat there in the dining room, keeping an ear out for the door and just … waiting.

I heard voices. Percy’s voice. He said something like “You cut all this off and she won’t die.” Then Jonathan said something, some protest, about Lydia. I couldn’t move. He was begging for her life, asking them not to hurt her, and Percy just growled at him to do whatever he was supposed to do.

I should’ve moved. I probably could’ve gotten up and at least put myself out of the line of sight from the desk without being seen—he was focused on Jonathan and whatever they were doing—but I didn’t. I froze. And I saw the gun, and I still froze. Then Percy saw me, and he kept the gun on Jonathan, but he pointed to me, and he said something like “Well, Agatha, time to live one of your mystery novels.”

I had my bag, the big hobo purse, and I automatically picked it up when I stood. I guess he figured I wouldn’t have a cell phone inside, so it was fine. I had my journal, and that’s … when he had me get into the back of the van, that’s when I wrote something to Aaron, in case he’d ever find it. Because I thought I was going to die. I didn’t know what I’d walked into, but I was going to die.

There were people already in the van. Lydia and Emily were in the back seat, hands tied together, and mouths duct taped. I don’t know if anything else was tied, because someone else sat in the van, and she had a gun, too. A gun, and bandages all over her face. Like the Invisible Man or something. It’s a big van, three rows of passenger seats, so she had me get in the middle one, and she sat there in the front one, next to the door, with her gun, and Percy got into the shotgun seat and told Jonathan to drive.

That’s when I snuck my journal out and wrote that. Nobody was paying any attention to the three women in the back. They didn’t tie me or tape me. I guess they figured the guns were enough. Which, I mean, they were. I didn’t even ask any questions. I didn’t want to die. I know what I wrote, what I wanted Aaron to see if he ever found it, but I didn’t want to die.

Percy told Jonathan what turns to take, and there were a lot of them. It was weird, because when Jonathan brought us up it wasn’t exactly a straight shot, but it was a lot more highway. Percy took back roads, but I don’t even know all the back roads. I didn’t look up anything about the area, because Jonathan picked me up at the airport and he’d drive me back, and otherwise I’d just stay at Loon Lake. So that seemed weird. That Percy knows the area.

I don’t know how long we drove. I didn’t check my watch when we started. I just know that Percy told Jonathan to pull over, even though there wasn’t a shoulder to the road. It was one of the skinny ones that’s barely enough pavement for two lanes, and no traffic. But Jonathan stopped, and Percy looked at the woman in the rearview mirror, and she sighed and opened the van door. “You, get,” she told me, and I grabbed my bag again. Habit, I guess. Or comfort. But they didn’t stop me.

I almost fell, because my legs were Jell-O, but Percy cranked down his window and leaned out. “Sorry you got dragged into this,” he told me, but he didn’t look sorry. He was just checking something off his list. Dusting his hands. “Wait until we’re out of sight, then follow this road until you hit the lake. Turn left.” That was it: hit the lake and turn left. He rolled up his window and I guess he told Jonathan to drive again.

They drove off. I didn’t have a camera or anything for GPS, and I didn’t have my knitting, but I had a spare charging cord for my kindle, and I tied that around a tree. They’re right up close to the road there, and the cord’s white, so it should be obvious. Then I scuffed an arrow in the dirt—I don’t know why, because it’s not going to last—pointing the way I was walking, and I started walking.

There was nothing. If there had been a house or even a street sign, I could’ve written down an address. Walked up to the house and asked to use the phone. There weren’t even any cars. I could’ve flagged one down, or at least caused enough of a nuisance that maybe somebody would’ve complained about the crazy lady. It was just trees and trees and trees, until I finally saw the lake, and at least I had a street sign so I could write that down.

I saw the beachy turnout, and there were cars, so you probably know this part. I asked someone if there was cell service and they could call 911, but their phone didn’t work. I guess they didn’t want to take me in their car and go however far to reach a police station with a stranger, but someone else said he had a CB on his motorcycle, so he’s the one who called. I didn’t talk to anyone while we waited, because I didn’t really know what to say, and it’s been, well, less than two weeks at Loon Lake, but I was never much for small talk, anyway. So I waited, and you came and picked me up, and brought me here, and can I ask my questions now? Because I saw Alyssa’s car outside, so if she’s here, can I see her? Is she okay?

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Cold Comfort: Saturday, July 13, 2024 – Henry (1), coming August 19