The water sparkled in the moonlight as the duck graced its surface, transitioning from sky to water with one, elegant motion. Gary watched from the shore, trembling. He’d seen that duck before, in other waters. How was it that it was here again, now, at this time? He shook his head and took a deep breath, turning away from the lake.

A noise drew him back again. The duck had quacked, and Gary saw the one black stripe down its side. There was no question that this was the same duck he saw the night before … and before that … and before that. The lakes were far enough apart this couldn’t be a coincidence. He couldn’t think of it any longer. He shrugged and turned again, starting his car and driving off.

When the police came the next morning about a call of a dead body floating in the lake, the third one this week, the duck was still there. If it could speak, Gary’s spree would be over.