It was the end of summer, and I was not looking forward to going back to school in two weeks. However, I was excited about heading to my dad’s friend’s cottage, as I had never been on a vacation. I was also looking forward to spending time with my brother and sister since they both went to school out of state and were only around during holidays and summer. Despite the distance, we were still very close, and being the youngest, I really looked up to them. My brother, Dillon, was a wrestler on a scholarship, and my sister, Kate, was probably the smartest person I knew, studying to become a surgeon. My parents had started a successful business making and selling wine just after I was born, and 17 years later, they were thriving.

The cottage we were going to was located on a huge lake with about four other cottages surrounding it—a perfect vacation spot. We had jet-skis, a boat, a floating dock to tan on, and lots of trails to hike. What more could a 17-year-old girl ask for?

We had been at the cottage for about two days when Dillon and Kate decided to go for a day-long hike. Although I wasn’t crazy about the idea of spending the entire day in the woods, it beat spending the day alone with my parents. So, I packed a quick lunch, threw on some shorts and a tank top with my bathing suit underneath, and we set out. Initially hesitant, I soon became captivated by the serenity of nature and started enjoying the hike.

After hiking for roughly three hours, Dillon suggested we stop for a snack. As we were enjoying our apples and chatting, we heard footsteps behind us. Thinking it was our parents, Dillon called out, “Mom, Dad, is that you?” The footsteps stopped. Kate insisted it was our parents messing with us and suggested we should circle around and try to sneak up on them. We quietly packed up and started to circle back, making noise to try to scare them, but we neither saw nor heard our parents.

Eventually, we came upon a small waterfall and decided to cool off in the pool of water. After about an hour, we decided to head back as we were getting hungry. Kate checked her phone and saw a missed text from our mom saying they hadn’t started dinner because they had visitors and were ordering in. Confused, we realized it couldn’t have been our parents making the noises. Dillon shrugged it off, saying it must have been an animal, and we thought nothing more of it.

Back at the cottage, we ate dinner and told our parents about the waterfall. They told us about their visitors, a seemingly nice couple in their late 40s who lived by the lake during summer and in Florida in the winter. Mom spoke about them as if they were already best friends.

The next morning, I discovered my parents were gone. A few minutes later, Kate came into the living room, saying she received a picture message from mom—a selfie of her and dad by the waterfall. This was the last message we would get from them that day. Hours passed, and we started to worry. Our mom was the type to message us every detail of her day, so this silence was unusual. Kate told Dillon, who shrugged it off, suggesting they just wanted some alone time.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

Grossed out by the thought, I went to tan on the dock for a couple of hours. As the day turned to evening and we still hadn’t heard from our parents, we became really worried. We messaged them but received no reply. Dillon tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail. We decided to check with the neighbors if they had seen our parents. While I stayed back, Dillon and Kate visited the neighbors.

They returned 20 minutes later, saying the neighbors hadn’t seen our parents all day but mentioned there was something off about the couple, who seemed to rush them away. Concerned, we called the local police, who sent out a unit within the hour. After explaining what happened, they brought in a K-9 unit to check around the waterfall. Two hours later, the officers returned with my dad’s backpack, found in a bush near the falls. They said it looked like there had been a struggle involving three or four people.

The officer in charge asked about visitors, and Dillon mentioned the neighbors. As Kate began to describe the couple, the officer looked at his partner and called out a police code. Within seconds, we saw officers swarming the neighbors' cottage. Dillon asked an officer what was going on and was told that the real owners of that cottage were in their late 70s and hadn’t been seen for about two weeks.

After what felt like a lifetime, an officer walked in with my father. He looked like he had been in a fight with a bear—his shirt ripped, face bruised and cut, and his left eye swollen shut. Kate, Dillon, and I ran to him and hugged him. He was crying. Kate asked, “Where’s mom? Dad, where’s mom?” My father, sobbing uncontrollably, dropped to the floor and, with his head down, said, “She’s gone. I tried, but they were so strong. They just took her.” At that moment, I realized my mother wouldn’t be coming back.

The police took my father’s statement. He said that he and my mother were at the waterfall when two men rushed them, knocking him into the water and dragging my mother into the woods. He chased after them but was eventually overcome by the two men. The next thing he remembered was waking up chained to a pole in a basement, with my mother nowhere in sight. He heard her screams from a separate room, sounding like she was being raped and beaten. After a while, there was a knock upstairs—likely when Dillon and Kate had asked the neighbors if they’d seen our parents. The couple argued, and then the man knocked my dad out again. He next woke up to a police officer lifting him off the ground.

The couple had killed the older couple who owned the cottage and dumped their bodies in the lake. They, along with their son, had kidnapped my parents, allowing their son to beat and abuse my mother. When the cops showed up, the son panicked and slit my mother’s throat. The court sentenced the couple to life in prison without parole, and their son was sent to a long-term mental care facility in another state.

It's been five years since we lost our mother, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about her