It’s as if I’ve been sucked into a vacuum. No sound. No gravity. Just me and a free fall of terror and the knowledge that I screwed up. I tumble down. My forearm strikes something solid. An explosion of pain streaks from forearm to shoulder. A scream tears from my throat. The water slams into my back like a concrete slab. Cold closes over me, stealing light and sound and air. The churning of water all around.
The slicker tangles around my arms. I can’t see or hear or breathe. The sensation of being sucked down. Panic engulfs me and for an instant, I struggle mindlessly. I don’t know up from down or dark from light. My foot plunges into mud. I shove off and propel myself toward the surface. One arm slips free of the slicker sleeve. I kick. Swipe at the water with my uninjured arm. Another burst of panic and then my face breaks the surface.
Water roars all around. I try to suck in a breath, swallow water, end up choking. I’ve lost my flashlight and .38. I don’t know where Henry is. If he means to harm me. I tread water, look around, try to get my bearings. Too dark to see anything. The one thing I do know is I’m being swept downstream.
I let the current carry me. Using my right arm, kicking my feet, I make my way to shore. My feet touch bottom. Swift water tries to pull my legs out from under me. But I muscle through, maintain my balance. Once I’m in shallow water, I fall to my knees and crawl up the bank.
“Kate!”
Jonas. I look up, see a flashlight beam through the driving rain. “Here!” I call out.
The yellow cone of light bounces and nears. I hear the crash of brush over the roaring water. Then I see Jonas skidding down the bank toward me. Yellow slicker shiny and wet. Hat gone. Eyes intense and focused on me.
“Where’s Henry?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” He bends to me, grasps my hand in his, helps me to my feet. “Are you hurt?”
“He set the fire,” I tell him. My legs wobble as he hauls me up the steep bank. “He tried to kill me. I fired my weapon; I don’t know if I hit him.” I look around, hating it that I’m shaking so violently I can barely stand. “I lost my gun. My flashlight.”
“Henry pushed you into the water?” he asks.
I take his flashlight, shine the beam on the second story of the structure. Sure enough, there’s an opening where the wood splintered and both of us went through.
“The wall gave way,” I tell him.
“You’re hurt.” He looks down where I’m cradling my injured arm.
“We need to find Henry,” I tell him.
The wail of a siren rises over the roar of water, the din of rain. I look toward the front of the mill, see the flashing lights reflecting off the treetops.
“Maybe you ought to leave that to the police,” he tells me.
I don’t argue.