A DARK SENSE OF DANGER CLUNG to Claire as she turned into her driveway after her visit to city hall. The midday streets were deserted, the town silent as she stepped onto the front porch. Suddenly her skin prickled and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She whirled around.
There was no one on the quiet street, no cars in the road. She was alone. She shook her head and walked into the cool quiet of the house. Since they’d found the paint scratches in Janice’s car on Saturday, her imagination was running wild. Suddenly there was menace everywhere.
Which just proved how tightly wound she’d become. She’d always prided herself on her pragmatic view of life. Never before had her imagination spun far-fetched tales of murder and conspiracy or built wildly improbable stories from a few tiny scraps of information.
She sat down at her desk and tried to concentrate on her work, but the numbers on the pages swam in front of her. Another pot of coffee did nothing to help.
Getting up from her desk, she prowled through the house, looking for something to distract her, something to take her mind off the fear that had her in its grip.
She stopped at the front window of the house. An aura of menace waiting, poised to strike, sent a chill shivering through her. The sky was a dull gray, the air thick and heavy, weighted down with the ominous stillness that came before a violent thunderstorm. She wanted Nick at home, safe in the house with her.
Football practice wouldn’t be over for more than an hour. Restless and too edgy to work, she slipped on her gardening gloves and headed into the yard.
An hour later she was digging up canna tubers when Nick appeared out of the woods at the back of their property. He froze when he saw her.
“Hi, Nick,” she said, standing up and pulling off her gloves. “Why are you coming that way?”
He shrugged and didn’t meet her gaze. “I dunno.”
“Did someone give you a ride home?”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding hard and shuffling his feet. “One of the seniors lives on the other side of the woods. He gave me a ride.” His gaze met hers then skittered away.
Fear rushed through her. What was wrong? What was Nick trying to hide? “Come and have a snack while I make dinner,” she said, forcing herself to smile.
“No, thanks. I’ll wait for dinner,” he muttered.
As soon as he stepped into the house he hurried up the stairs to his room, grabbing the phone on the way. She could hear his low voice, speaking urgently to someone, before the door to his room closed.
When she called him down to dinner a half hour later, he slid into his chair without looking at her. He shoveled food into his mouth and gave short, monosyllabic answers to her questions. He’d barely swallowed the last bite of food before he pushed away from the table with a muttered “excuse me.”
She watched him leave, worried and afraid.
She’d barely finished putting the food away when Nick came clattering down the stairs. “I’m going over to Booger’s house,” he announced without looking her in the eye. “We have to work on a project for English class.”
“All right,” she said, struggling to keep her voice calm. “Make sure you’re home by nine o’clock.”
He nodded and hurried through the front door, clutching a notebook to his chest. She watched as he hurried down the sidewalk and disappeared from sight.
Minutes later, a low roll of thunder rumbled through the air. When she looked outside, she saw the sky was dark with angry clouds. A few fat drops of rain hit the sidewalk, lightning flashed, then the heavens opened.
Nick shouldn’t be outside walking in a thunderstorm. She grabbed her car keys and ran out the door. By the time she slid into the car, she was soaking wet.
She drove to the Johnsons’ house but didn’t see him. He must have started running as soon as the first raindrops fell, she thought uneasily. But what if he didn’t go to Booger’s? What if he never intended to go to Booger’s? The memory of his hunched shoulders, and inability to meet her gaze, filled her head. Nick was hiding something.
Maybe Judy would know. Bright flashes of lightning crashed across the sky, illuminating the Johnsons’ house with each strike. Lights flickered in the house, then steadied. Claire dialed Judy’s number, worry dampening her palms and tightening her chest.
When Judy assured her that Nick and Booger had arrived moments earlier, Claire thanked her and closed the phone, staring at the curtain of rain outside the car window. Maybe Nick had just had a bad day at school.
Rain drummed on the roof of her car and water sheeted down the windshield. Claire closed her eyes, wondering what to do. She didn’t want to make a misstep, didn’t want to destroy the fragile relationship she and Nick had started to build. But she didn’t want to ignore possible signs of trouble, either.
“Tell me what to do, Janice,” she whispered. “Tell me about your boy. Tell me how to help him.”
The rain eased and she started the car. But instead of returning home, she impulsively drove in the other direction. In minutes she was past the town, driving through the twilight toward the lake where Janice died.
It had been raining that night, too. Claire needed to see the road for herself, feel how slippery it was on the curve where Janice had gone through the guardrail. She needed to stand at the place where Janice died, to see if any part of Janice lingered there.
It wasn’t hard to find the exact spot where Janice’s car had broken through the guardrail. That part of the low barrier was shiny and new. The rest of the rail was a weathered pewter gray.
She drove past slowly, her heartbeat speeding up as she looked down the incline at the black waters of the lake. Once she was past the lake, she turned around and backtracked.
Another turn brought her to the replaced section of guardrail. The car rolled to a stop on the soft shoulder as she stared at the guardrail. Its newness stood out against the dirt and grass like a fresh wound. Finally she got out of the car and walked to the spot where Janice had died.
Thunder rumbled far in the distance and the rain had almost stopped, but a chilly wind whipped her hair around her face and plastered her clothes to her body. Still wet from her earlier dash to the car, she shivered as she stood next to the flimsy barrier.
One car, then another sped by on the opposite side of the road. Then there was nothing but the moaning of the wind and the splash of the waves against the rocks. The shoulder of the road dropped off steeply, and the embankment was rocky and uneven. In the gathering darkness she saw fresh scars on the dark gray rocks, mute witnesses to Janice’s plunge into the lake.
Horrible images crowded her mind. Janice, trapped in her car, bouncing down the rocks to the lake. The crack of noise like a gunshot as the car hit the water, the splash of the waves as they rose into the stormy sky. Then the car disappearing silently beneath the black surface of the water, leaving the lake smooth again, swallowing Janice and her car as if they’d never existed.
Had Chief Broderick been telling her the truth, or was he merely trying to spare her pain? Had Janice really been dead when her car went into the water? Had she been aware of what was happening? Was she afraid? Or in pain?
She couldn’t bear to think of her sister’s life being snuffed out so easily, so quickly. Claire turned away. This had been a mistake. There were no answers here. Nothing of Janice lingered at this desolate, dark place.
The headlights of an approaching car bore down on her, blinding her in their glare. She raised her hand to shield her eyes. As she watched, the car swerved onto the shoulder of the road and surged forward.
Straight for her. For a stunned moment she stared at the oncoming vehicle, unable to move. At the last moment she dove over the guardrail.
The air from the car’s wake swirled around her as she tumbled down the embankment. She slammed into a rock and her side screamed in pain. Another rock gouged her hip and something sharp scraped her leg. She scrabbled frantically for a handhold.
Her fingers closed around the branch of a bush, yanking it out of the ground as she continued to tumble down the slope. But the flimsy bush slowed her progress, and she dug her heels into the rocky mud. Sliding on her stomach, she saw a thick root to her right and grabbed at it. It stretched as her hand closed around it and her body jerked against it, but it held.
For a long moment she hung there, her toes searching for a hold, her hand burning from the effort of holding on to the root. Desperately she reached her other hand to the root and managed to grab on. At the same time, her feet found a narrow ledge of rock to cling to.
The rain began again, the warm splatter of water almost comforting. But the mud beneath her hands was cold and slimy and her feet skidded off the slippery ledge.
She looked down as she struggled to regain her footing. The black water of the lake waited below her, the waves churning in the wind like a hungry mouth ready to devour her. Waiting for her to fall.
She would not die here and leave Nick alone again. Shaking her wet, muddy hair out of her eyes, she saw a thin branch above her and reached for it.
After testing her weight against it, she dragged herself a few inches higher. Refusing to look down, refusing to accept the possibility of falling, she moved up the embankment inch by inch. Her feet skidded in the mud, her hands slipped off the branches and rocks in her way, but she continued to crawl up the slope.
Finally the guardrail was within reach, and she hauled herself up the last foot. As she crawled beneath the rail, she collapsed onto the shoulder.
Her hands burned, her body ached and the heavy, earthy smell of mud filled her mouth and nose. She struggled to her hands and knees, then used the guardrail to pull herself upright.
Her legs wobbled, but she staggered to the car. Her hand shook so badly with the cold she could barely open the car door.
It was barely warmer inside the car. She huddled on the seat, wracked with convulsive shivers. She managed to start the car but couldn’t put it into gear.
Remembering a blanket she kept in the trunk, she hobbled through the rain to get it. She wrapped it around herself, but it was no help against the bone-deep cold.
She had to get home. She had to get warm and cleaned up. And she had to do it before Nick got back.
The thought of Nick seeing her like this, muddy, bruised and bloody, gave her the strength to put the car in gear. Holding grimly to the steering wheel, she pressed on the accelerator and turned the wheel.
Nothing happened.
The engine revved and the tires screamed, but the car didn’t move. When she stumbled into the rain again, she saw that two tires were mired deep in the mud.
She sagged against the car, her frozen brain working slowly through her options. The garage in town was closed. She could call a tow truck from Bakersfield, but it could be hours before they arrived. Hours she didn’t have.
She had no family besides Nick to call. And Nick wasn’t an option.
Tucker.
She could call Tucker. He’d help her.
His image floated in her mind like a lifeline. Fumbling for her cell phone, she punched in his number with trembling fingers.
“Hello.” His voice warmed her, and she closed her eyes.
“Tucker?” she said, steadying her voice. “This is Claire. Can you pick me up?”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice sharp. “Claire, what happened?”
“Car’s stuck. Out by the lake. Where Janice died.”
“On Route 32?”
“Yes.” Thank goodness he understood.
“I’ll be right there.”
The phone clicked in her ear, and she closed her cell phone. She tried to drop it back in her purse, but her hand was still shaking so it ended up on the passenger seat.
Tucker was coming. He’d help her. She held that thought in her head and closed her eyes.