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Pine Lake
Amanda Stevens






SLEEPWALKING WITH DANGER

The murder of security expert Jack King’s girlfriend has haunted him for fifteen years. Returning to Pine Lake, Texas, where the townsfolk still consider him suspect, might not be the smartest move, but a killer seems to be holding up a mirror to his past. The same witness to this new murder was also present the night Jack’s girlfriend dieds…but both times, she was sound asleep...

Sleepwalking has gotten Olive Belmont into some sticky situations. Being the witness to both murders may have put her on the killer’s list. Even so, she doesn’t think the killer is Jack and is willing to help him. But will putting his past to rest ease her mind or leave her with even greater nightmares?


“I’ve been away from here for a long time,” he said. “I may not be the man you think I am.”

“I may not be the woman you think I am,” she countered. “If you think about me at all,” she added sheepishly.

“Hard to forget someone you meet on top of a bridge.”

He saw a shiver go through her as she turned to stare out the windshield. She looked very enticing with her hair all mussed and her lips slightly parted. Another time, another place and Jack might have responded to the subtle invitation in her smile. But a hookup was the last thing he needed. He’d come to town to poke a hornet’s nest. Depending on what he found, things could get ugly. Sides might have to be chosen. After all was said and done, he’d return to Houston while Olive would still have to live here.

Jack knew only too well what it was like to be a pariah in Pine Lake.


The Throne He Must Take

Chantelle Shaw






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


AMANDA STEVENS is an award-winning author of over fifty novels, including the modern gothic series, The Graveyard Queen. Her books have been described as eerie and atmospheric, “a new take on the classic ghost story.” Born and raised in the rural South, she now resides in Houston, Texas, where she enjoys binge-watching, bike riding and the occasional margarita.


Contents

Cover (#u4fc5d477-3556-5802-9507-6fabbd34a4c5)

Back Cover Text (#u9bb07b26-3212-5248-ac16-f9cb3387ef46)

Introduction (#uc619f5cc-556a-5ddf-a735-64de5505a713)

Title Page (#u9185746e-3a16-5dff-b9af-155056d2e23e)

About the Author (#u5c52c47d-8c24-59dc-8d15-efbdc5092032)

Chapter One (#u91309584-acf4-5238-a62d-0f397c0edf8e)

Chapter Two (#u4964629c-48b4-5e70-86b1-7f7e912b08ef)

Chapter Three (#ua448785a-e8f5-51a0-a02a-276d8c3fb50e)

Chapter Four (#ufc0ff364-c2f3-5932-954c-c7ec2a6ecfa1)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ue6b58201-9381-5980-ba81-7339b74a0793)

It was an ordinary day. Which made the phone call all the more extraordinary.

Jack King wasn’t in the best of moods to begin with. He’d been stuck inside since early morning and boredom had worn down his patience. Even on the rare instances when he found himself in between assignments, he could usually rustle up something that would keep him out of the office. No chore was too tedious so long as it put distance between him and his cluttered desk.

For the past five years, he’d been working for the Blackthorn Agency, a high-profile consultant and security organization headquartered in Houston, Texas. Jack worked in Black Watch, the division tasked with state and municipal government oversight, including police departments. His particular expertise was in exposing corruption in cities large and small where the rot started at the head and worked its way down through the ranks. It wasn’t a job for the faint of heart. Cops were notoriously territorial and they knew how to circle the wagons. But Jack enjoyed the challenge and he’d learned a long time ago how to watch his back.

That morning, he’d arrived at headquarters with the expectation of a new briefing. Instead, a mountain of delinquent paperwork and a stern warning from the man upstairs had kept him chained to his desk as his gaze strayed every few minutes to the clock on the wall outside his office. The day had seemed interminable.

Finally at six, he filed his last report, stood, stretched and walked out of his office, wishing the division manager a nice weekend. He was just getting off the elevator when his phone rang. He started to ignore it. Wished a thousand times later that he had. He didn’t want to be called back upstairs because he’d dotted the wrong i or forgotten to cross a t. Whatever technicality needed his attention could damn well wait until Monday.

Still...

He slid the phone out of his pocket and checked the screen. No name, just a number. The area code and prefix pinged his alarm and he told himself again to ignore the call. He couldn’t, of course. Curiosity niggled. He’d had no contact with anyone in his hometown in over fifteen years. He’d left Pine Lake the day after his high school graduation and his folks had fled a month later. Only his uncle Leon had remained to tough things out, but he’d passed away last spring. Jack hadn’t even gone back for the funeral.

No good could come of that phone call. He knew that. But he pressed the phone to his ear anyway as he strode across the lobby, nodding to the security guard behind the desk on his way out.

“Hello,” he said as he pushed open the glass door and stepped through into the early August heat.

“Jack? Jack King, right?”

Unease feathered along his spine. “Yes, this is Jack.”

“You don’t know who this is, do you? Little wonder. It’s been a long time. Fifteen years to be exact.” The caller fell silent. “Damn, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be. It’s Nathan, Jack. Nathan Bolt.”

Nathan Bolt. Now there was a name from his past. He and Jack and Tommy Driscoll had been best friends all through school. Blood brothers since kindergarten. Thick as thieves, Uncle Leon used to say. Until Nathan and Tommy had turned on Jack during their senior year. They’d given each other alibis for the night of Anna Grayson’s murder, leaving Jack alone in the crosshairs of a ruthless sheriff.

With little evidence and zero suspects, the authorities had gone hard after Jack. He was the boyfriend, after all, and unlike Tommy and Nathan, he hadn’t been able to produce an alibi. The harassment had continued for months, making him an outcast in the place where he’d lived his whole life. Even after an arrest had finally been made and an ex-con sent back to prison, the community had continued to shun him. In the ensuing years, Jack had done his best to forget about Pine Lake and everyone who lived there, but not a day went by that he didn’t think about Anna. Not a day went by that he didn’t wish for her the long and happy life she had deserved.

An image flashed through his head. Dark hair, dark eyes. A smile that could light up a stadium.

Sweat beaded on his brow. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

“Hello? Jack? You there? Did I lose you?”

“I’m here,” he said, though his instinct still was to end the call without giving Nathan a chance to explain why he had decided to make contact after so many years of silence. Or how he had gotten Jack’s number in the first place. That probably wasn’t too hard to figure out. He’d been Uncle Leon’s attorney.

“You must be wondering why I’m calling,” Nathan said.

“Did Leon give you my number?”

“Yes. We discussed certain things before he died. He said I should give you a call.”

“What things?”

Another pause. “Did you get the letter I sent you about his estate?”

“I got it.”

“I wondered. I never heard back from you. Things have been left hanging, but that’s my fault. I should have followed up. And I should have called when it first happened. I’m sorry I didn’t. I’m sorry about a lot of things.” He sighed. “I don’t imagine that cuts much ice with you.”

“If this is about Leon’s estate, you should talk to my dad,” Jack said brusquely. “He’ll give you whatever you need.”

“If you read my letter, you know Leon left everything to you. The cabin, the little bit of cash he had in the bank. But this isn’t about your uncle.”

“Then what’s it about?”

“I need to talk to you about Tommy.”

It had started to rain, a light drizzle that spiked the humidity and turned the oily streets to glass. As if traffic wasn’t bad enough on a Friday afternoon in downtown Houston. Jack pressed against the building to keep dry.

“Why would you need to talk to me about Tommy?”

“He’s the Caddo County sheriff. Going on three years now. Leon must have told you about the last election. The accusations of fraud and intimidation. The way that vote went down left a lot of bad blood in this town.”

“Leon and I didn’t talk politics.” They hadn’t talked much at all in the past few years and that was on Jack. He’d let himself get too caught up in work because it was easier to focus on the greed and corruption of others than to dwell on his own shortcomings, including a failed marriage. If a day didn’t go by without a thought of Anna, his ex-wife hardly ever crossed his mind. That undoubtedly said more about Jack than it did about her. Not her fault he had trust issues. Not for lack of trying that she couldn’t breach his walls.

“I’ve done my research,” Nathan was saying. “I know what you do at the Blackthorn Agency. You investigate police departments, right? You expose government corruption.”

“Among other things.”

“Leon said you were the best at what you do.”

“Leon was biased.”

“Maybe, but you always were the best at everything you set your mind to.”

Was that an edge of the old jealousy rearing its ugly head? Jack and Tommy Driscoll had had a good-natured rivalry on the football field, but the competition with Nathan in the classroom hadn’t been so amiable. Nathan needed to be the best and the brightest in order to prove his worth to his father. Jack needed the grades for a scholarship. His early acceptance to a top-tier school had been a bitter pill for Nathan to swallow, but that offer and most of the others had been rescinded when Anna’s murder and the subsequent investigation had made the national news. And that had been a bitter pill for Jack to swallow.

“I know I’m catching you off guard,” Nathan said. “But I didn’t know who else to call. We’ve got a real problem up here, Jack. Drugs have taken over the whole damn county. Crack, meth, kush. And nobody has a mind to do anything about it. You can’t imagine how bad it’s gotten.”

“I’ve worked on the border,” Jack said. “I don’t have to imagine how bad things can get.”

“Well, sure. El Paso’s one thing, but we’re talking about Pine Lake. Last year alone, we had ten murders in Caddo County. Ten. Not a lot by big city standards, but you must remember how quiet this place once was.”

He remembered, all right.

“Something’s going on in our little town. Something bad. Used to be just a few random incidents, but now there’s organization. Muscle. And I think Tommy’s involved. In it up to his neck, is my guess.”

“In what?”

“That’s what I need you to find out.”

“If you’re looking to hire my firm, you’ll have to go through the proper channels. I don’t solicit work. I go where I’m told.”

“I was hoping we could do this off the books. I’ll pay you myself. Whatever you want.”

“Not interested.”

“Even if it could lead you to Anna’s murderer?”

Nathan’s words were like scissor points gouging a tender wound. “Her killer was sent to prison fifteen years ago.”

“What if they pinned it on the wrong man? Have you ever considered that?”

More times than Jack cared to remember. He’d even made a trip to the Texas State Penitentiary a few years back to interview Wayne Foukes for himself. He’d come away more convinced than ever that Foukes belonged behind bars. He was less certain the man had been sent up for the right reason.

“What if I told you Tommy lied about where he was that night?” Nathan said softly. “Would you come then?”

Jack stared out across the street. He could feel a pulse start to pound in his temple. “What you’re really saying is that you lied about that night.”

“I had to. He threatened to hurt someone I cared about if I didn’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you remember my cousin Olive? She and my aunt came to live with us after my uncle died.”

Jack skimmed his memory, summoning up a hazy image of a slight redhead with glasses. “Vaguely.”

“You probably didn’t even notice her, but she used to follow me around all the time. I think she just needed someone to pay attention to her. Tommy didn’t come right out and say it, but he let me know if I didn’t swear to the police he was at my house all night, something bad might happen to Olive.”

“I take it he wasn’t at your house.”

“He slept over just like we said, but I woke up during the night and found him gone.”

“And you never once thought about going to the police? Or to your father? He was a big shot in the county. He could have protected you from Tommy Driscoll or anyone else who threatened you.”

“I wasn’t worried about myself. My only concern was Olive.” Nathan’s voice dropped. “Poor kid was already a mess. She took her dad’s death hard and I wanted to protect her. She was so fragile that even an empty threat could have pushed her over the edge. But I didn’t think Tommy’s threat was empty. He had a cruel streak, Jack. You never saw it because he kept it hidden from you. But not from me. I was often the brunt of it.”

“You never said anything.”

“I guess growing up with my old man, I got used to dealing with bullies.”

Don’t, Jack thought bitterly. Don’t let him get to you. None of this matters anymore.

So what if Nathan had lied about Tommy’s whereabouts? Jack had never been charged. He’d left town a free man and he’d put all that behind him. He was happy here in Houston. Or at least, content. He had friends, a good job. Why go digging up the past now?

Because a man had been sent to prison for a crime he may not have committed. Wayne Foukes was an arsonist, a drug dealer and a serial rapist who’d left a string of ruined lives in his wake. He deserved to be incarcerated, but so did Anna’s killer.

“Will you come?” Nathan pressed.

“What is it you expect me to do?”

“What you do in every other place with a corrupt police department. Expose the dirt so we can clean it up.”

“You don’t think people will question my presence in a town where I haven’t set foot in over fifteen years?”

“You have the perfect excuse for coming back. You need to settle your uncle’s estate. You can even stay in the cabin while you decide what you want to do with it. I’ll have someone go in and give it a good cleaning, stock the refrigerator. You might even enjoy a few days on the lake. All I’m asking is that you keep your eyes and ears open while you’re here. Ask a few discreet questions. You’ll know how best to handle the situation once you get here.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jack said.

“For how long?”

Irritation flared. “For as long as I need to. I have a job. I can’t pick up and leave whenever I want.”

“Don’t take too long,” Nathan warned. “Whatever you decide, I would appreciate you keeping this call between us. My life could depend on it.”

He knew how to end the conversation on a dramatic note. Jack would give him that.

Slipping the phone in his pocket, he leaned a shoulder against the building as he mulled over his options. He had vacation time coming. He was between assignments and he’d caught up on all his paperwork. There would never be a better time to take a few days off. Still, he wasn’t about to rush into anything. He needed to have a drink, relax, sleep on it. Then he’d talk things over with his boss on Monday.

He deliberately turned his thoughts to more pleasant options, like how to spend the rest of his Friday evening. He could go across the street to Lola’s and have a drink with the other Blackthorn employees who would already be congregating in the shadowy back room for happy hour. Like Jack, they were mostly former law enforcement—cops, FBI, DEA. They all got on well except for the military contingent, the ex-Special Forces teams that were often deployed overseas as private security. Mercenaries. Those guys kept to themselves.

He decided he wasn’t in the mood for a raucous celebration so he thought about heading over to Ninfa’s on Navigation for solo margaritas and fajitas. But it was a popular eatery and on a Friday night with the Astros in town, chances were good he’d need a reservation. He chose a third option. Home.

His apartment was several blocks away, but he didn’t mind the rain. Dodging umbrellas, he merged with the pedestrians hurrying toward bus stops and parking garages. The theater crowd would soon converge, tying up traffic for blocks. He was glad to be on foot.

As he strode along the sidewalk, the back of his neck tingled. He could easily chalk up the sensation to imagination or the residue of an unsettling conversation, but Jack had learned a long time ago to listen to his instincts. To pay attention to the signs. He was being followed.

He searched the mirrored facade of the building across the street and turned very casually to observe the traffic. Nothing seemed amiss, but in the chaos of rush hour, a tail could be hard to spot.

* * *

OLIVE BELMONT HURRIED along the shadowy streets, suppressing the desire to glance over her shoulder as she rounded the corner toward home. She’d had a funny feeling all day that something was wrong, though she tried to tell herself it was nerves.

School would start in another three weeks and this would be Olive’s first term as principal at Pine Lake High School. Just shy of thirty, she was the youngest to ever hold the position and she knew the school board would watch her every move, waiting to pounce on any misstep. With that kind of pressure, she was allowed a few jitters.

Her unease was more than first-day butterflies, though. Pine Lake wasn’t the town it once was. Maybe it had never been the idyllic hamlet she’d always thought it, but now the community seemed on the verge of losing itself to the same pandemic of drugs and malaise that affected hundreds of rural towns across the South.

The decline had been gradual in Pine Lake. So slow that only lately had Olive noticed the deterioration. But on a sultry evening like this, one could almost smell the rot. Even the beautiful old Queen Anne homes along Primrose Avenue had fallen into a sorry state and it seemed to Olive that every other week she saw at least one U-Haul heading out of town. She wondered if that was why she’d been offered the job as principal. Maybe no one else had wanted the position.

With all the added stress came the nightmares, those terrifying falling dreams from her early teens. The situation was always the same. She found herself on a bridge clinging to the edge for dear life. She could feel her fingers slip as her legs flailed helplessly. Then she was falling backward into a misty abyss as a shadowy figure peered down at her from the guardrail. Olive could never see a face, but she thought the watcher might be her dad. He’d been killed on a bridge when his car and another had collided head on.

Olive had gone years without having that dream, but for weeks now the recurring nightmare had plagued her sleep. She never hit the water, but on at least two occasions, the sensation of falling had been so real that she’d awakened to find herself on her knees in bed, clutching the headboard. The smell of pine needles and swamp had permeated her tiny bedroom, though she knew the scent was nothing more than a lingering effect from her dream.

She hoped the nightmares would go away once school started and she settled into her new position. Meanwhile, a chat with Mona Sutton might help. The guidance counselor had been a lifesaver when Olive had been a new student at Pine Lake High School fifteen years ago. Armed with a doctorate in psychology and a fierce determination to save the world, Mona Sutton had taken Olive under her wing, helping her through the pain and loneliness and seemingly insurmountable guilt over her father’s tragic death. Olive’s mother had been too lost in her own grief to notice that her fourteen-year-old daughter was quietly having a nervous breakdown. Mona had stepped in, then and years later when the pressure of college had caused the dreams to resurface. She would help again if need be, but their relationship might be trickier now that Olive was her boss.

Olive’s tiny bungalow was just ahead on the corner of Elm and Holly. As she approached the intersection, she finally gave into her premonition and glanced over her shoulder. It was still early, but not a soul stirred. Even the eateries along East Market Street had already closed their doors for the evening.

An abandoned air had settled over the town, deepening Olive’s unease. For a moment, she had the terrifying notion that everyone had packed up and left Pine Lake while she’d been working late, readying herself for the coming school year. But she wasn’t completely alone. A dog barked from a fenced backyard and she could hear the idling of a car engine somewhere nearby.

As she stepped off the curb, headlights flashed on, catching her in the face. She froze like a deer, staring wide-eyed into the bright beams until she heard the engine rev and then she instinctively retreated to the sidewalk. A split second later, a dark sedan sped past her. She didn’t recognize car or driver nor did she get a look at the license plate. The car was going too fast. Reckless driving wasn’t unusual in Pine Lake where drag racing down Main Street on a Friday night was still a popular pastime. But she wasn’t on Main Street and Olive could have sworn the car had deliberately swerved in her direction as it zoomed past her.

She stood underneath a streetlight, heart thudding as she tried to rationalize the incident. Someone had probably recognized her and decided to have a little fun at the expense of the new principal. She was a small woman and looked years younger than her age so there would be more of the same once school started. No doubt a steady stream of challenges to her authority. She’d better buck up and learn to hide her nerves if she had any hope of making it through the first semester, let alone the whole school year.

Wiping clammy hands down the sides of her pants, she looked both ways and then hurried across the street to her house. She let herself in and then turned the lock behind her. Dragging over a footstool, she shot home a bolt at the top of the door, a precaution she hoped was unnecessary.

It was an unusual place for a lock. Designed to keep someone in rather than a dangerous element out.

* * *

JACK HAD DECIDED to stop off at a corner bar where he could watch the street. One drink had somehow turned into three and by the time he left, traffic had thinned and darkness was falling. He headed for the shower as soon as he got home, standing for a long time under the steamy water as he tried to banish the barrage of unwanted memories that had kept him drinking at the bar.

Anna’s face swam up out of the back of his mind. He wanted to remember her the way she’d been the summer he fell in love with her, a gorgeous brunette with a killer smile and legs that went on forever. Instead, he kept seeing her dragged from the lake, lips blue, skin gray, eyes glazed and sightless.

Senior year was supposed to have been their time, a long goodbye before college took them in separate directions. Jack had been elected captain of the football team; Anna had been the head cheerleader. They were the all-American cliché. In hindsight, even her death seemed banal, the most beautiful girl in school meeting a violent and untimely demise. The news offered up similar tragedies on a daily basis, but for whatever reason, Anna’s story had captivated the national media.

For a while, Jack hadn’t been able to leave his house without cameras being shoved in his face. His picture had been splashed across tabloids and gossip-style news programs, making him the most hated seventeen-year-old in the country. And then one night, Wayne Foukes had been pulled over for a broken taillight. Among the cache of drugs in his trunk, the police had discovered Anna’s missing class ring.

Once Foukes was charged, the reporters disappeared, but the people Jack had known his whole life continued to avoid him. It was almost as if they needed to believe him guilty in order to justify their behavior. He’d left town vowing never to return, but now Nathan’s phone call had changed everything.

Dragging on a pair of jeans, he ambled into the kitchen to scour the refrigerator for dinner. Pickings were slim. He settled on a beer. Later, he’d order in. Watch a movie, crash on the couch. Assuming he’d be able to sleep.

The night stretched before him, empty and endless. He turned on the Astros game to fill the quiet as he glanced aimlessly around his apartment. The small space, sleek and minimally furnished, boasted a view of the Houston skyline, but it had never felt much like home. Turning up the volume, he took his beer out to the balcony to enjoy the night air. The rain was coming down harder now and he held his hand over the railing to collect a fistful of water.

He could hear his cell ringing inside and he told himself to ignore it even as he flicked the water from his fingers and stepped back through the door. He picked up the phone from the counter and glanced at the screen. It was a Pine Lake prefix but the number wasn’t Nathan’s. Or at least not the number of the phone he’d called from before.

Jack carried the phone back out to the balcony with him. “Jack King.”

“Hello, Jack King. Tommy Driscoll calling.” He gave a low chuckle. “Man, oh, man. I wish I could see your face right now. I must be about the last person you expected to hear from tonight.”

Pretty damn close. What were the chances he’d hear from his two former best friends on the same night? Jack wasn’t a big believer in coincidences. Something was up. He tried to brace himself, but Tommy Driscoll’s voice took him aback. He sounded exactly the way Jack remembered—loud, jovial, a man always up for a good time. Except now the jollity sounded forced, but maybe Jack’s perception had been tainted by time and Nathan’s innuendoes. Or maybe Tommy Driscoll had never been the easygoing guy Jack had thought him.

“What can I do for you, Tommy? Or should I call you Sheriff Driscoll?”

“You heard about that, did you?” He sounded pleased. “Back in our glory days, who would have ever thought a pair of hell-raisers like us would turn out to be cops?”

“I’m not a cop.”

“You were, though. Houston PD. See? I’ve kept up with you through the years.” He paused as if expecting Jack to say the same about him. “Now you’re with that outfit I see on the news. The Blackthorn Agency. You guys go into some hairy places from what I hear. Must be exciting. Good money, too, I bet. You’ve done all right for yourself, seems like.”

In spite of everything, Jack thought. “Why are you calling, Tommy?”

“I need a favor, buddy. It’s about Nathan.”

Jack was instantly on alert. “What about him?”

“Have you heard from him lately?”

Something in Tommy’s voice prickled Jack’s scalp. “Why would you think I’d hear from Nathan? You guys cut me loose a long time ago.”

“You sound bitter,” Tommy said.

“No, just careful.”

“Can’t say as I blame you, considering the way you were treated. We were all just scared kids back then. I’m not making excuses, but it was a rough time for everyone.”

Sure sounded like he was making excuses. And the half-hearted apology was only now being extended because Tommy needed something from Jack. Just like Nathan did. He wasn’t about to make it easy on either of them.

“This is awkward as hell,” Tommy muttered into the loaded silence. “I can’t imagine how strange it must be for you.”

“No, you can’t.”

Tommy drew in a sharp breath as if his anger had been goaded. Then he said in a strained voice, “Look, man, I wouldn’t even be bothering you except I think Nathan may be in some trouble. Serious trouble. And now that it’s all coming home to roost, he’s looking for a way out.”

“What do you mean?”

Tommy hesitated. “I think he may be trying to set me up.”

“For what?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet.”

Jack stared out into the night, dotted with streetlights spanning the misty cityscape, but his mind had already traveled deep into the piney woods of East Texas. “What is it you expect me to do about it?”

“Nothing, buddy. Not a damn thing. That’s the whole point of this call. If Nathan tries to get in touch, I’d appreciate a heads-up. Otherwise, go on about your business.”

“You still haven’t told me why you think he’d try to get in touch with me.”

“He’s desperate. And he and your uncle were tight. Maybe he thinks you still have a score to settle and he can somehow use it to his advantage. A word of advice from an old friend.” Any hint of joviality disappeared from Tommy Driscoll’s voice. “Don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth. Nathan Bolt is a pathological liar. Always has been. Just like his old man.”

“What has he lied about?” Jack asked carefully.

Tommy hesitated. “Maybe it doesn’t even matter anymore.”

“Maybe it does,” Jack said. “What did Nathan lie about?”

Another pause. “He wasn’t home the night Anna was killed. He left before midnight and didn’t come back until nearly sunrise.”


Chapter Two (#ue6b58201-9381-5980-ba81-7339b74a0793)

Jack sat on his uncle’s boat dock as a fine mist settled over the lake. All around him, the landscape was eerie and primal, a swampy labyrinth of channels and bayous that stretched all the way across the Louisiana border. The town of Pine Lake was less than a quarter of a mile away, but the woods blocked the lights. He could see nothing but the silhouette of trees and a glimpse now and then of the old lake bridge through the curtains of Spanish moss hanging from a dense forest of bald cypress.

Damn, it was dark out here.

Jack had forgotten what it was like to be that deep in the country, without the glow of skyscrapers to create a false daylight. As he stared out at the water, the night came alive. A loon trilled from the woods as a mosquito buzzed his ear. A female alligator grunted nearby, warning predators away from her nest. The nocturnal sounds stirred an uneasy excitement. You shouldn’t have come back here, a voice in his head taunted. You’re asking for trouble.

Yeah, maybe he was.

He hadn’t told anyone he was coming. Not Nathan, not Tommy. But the cabin had been spotless when he arrived, the cupboards and refrigerator well stocked. Even his uncle’s fishing boat had been scrubbed and gassed up. Jack wasn’t too pleased by the preparations. Nathan’s overconfidence bugged him, but it wasn’t misplaced. He was here, wasn’t he?

All weekend long he’d brooded about those two phone calls and then come Monday morning, he’d headed upstairs to talk things over with his boss, Ezra Blackthorn. The taciturn head of the agency had listened carefully to Jack’s story, but he hadn’t offered much in the way of advice. Wading back into the muck of his past had been Jack’s decision alone. As much as he dreaded what he might find, he couldn’t ignore any chance, no matter how slim, of finally bringing Anna’s killer to justice. To resolve once and for all what had really happened on that long-ago Friday night.

But he had no delusions about easy answers. His investigation was likely to get messy. He didn’t trust Nathan or Tommy to tell him the truth. Obviously, they were each working an angle. He could well imagine Tommy Driscoll getting involved in something shady. Even as a kid, Tommy’s innate charm and athletic prowess had fostered a sense of entitlement. He’d learned early on that he could talk his way out of anything and Jack doubted his attitude had changed now that he wore a badge.

Nathan was a little harder to figure out. He already had money and prestige. Why risk his standing in the community?

Jack really didn’t care what either of them was up to. He did care that one or both had lied about their whereabouts on the night of Anna’s murder.

He watched the water with a pensive frown, unable to shake his disquiet. His mind had strayed to such a dark place that when he saw a light flicker on the old lake bridge, he half convinced himself he was being paranoid.

But no, there it was again. Not a flickering light as he’d first thought, but the bobbing beam of a flashlight moving across the wooden deck. The bridge had been abandoned decades ago, but the rotting floorboards and creaking beams had never dissuaded the local daredevils. He watched for a moment, thinking back to his own misadventures on that bridge.

The light was no longer moving, he noted. The beam stayed stationary for so long that he had to conclude someone had set the flashlight down on the deck or perhaps wedged it between the braces. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost conjure a form standing at the guardrail. He was tempted to start up his uncle’s boat and train the spotlight on the bridge, but even so powerful a beam would be swallowed by the misty darkness. Besides which, this was none of his business. He hadn’t come to Pine Lake to get sidetracked—

He heard a splash as something heavy hit the water. Then the flashlight beam swept down and over the lake, glimmering sporadically through the trees. Jack was far enough away that he couldn’t be spotted, but he instinctively shrank back into the shadows.

For the longest time, the light moved slowly over the water. Then the glow vanished, only to reappear bobbing toward the end of the bridge. A few minutes later, Jack heard the sound of a car engine on the far side of the lake. Not a frantic rev but a stealthy purr as the car slowly drove away on the old dirt road.

He didn’t know what to make of the splash or the light. People had been known to use the lake as a dumping site. If caught, the offense carried a stiff penalty, but back in Jack’s day, the area around the bridge had rarely been patrolled. Which was undoubtedly the reason Anna’s killer had chosen to dump her body from the deck.

That splash...

What were the chances another body had been thrown from the bridge on the very night he’d returned to Pine Lake? Slim to none, Jack decided, but he knew the sound would niggle at him all night. Might as well take the boat out and have a look.

* * *

A FEW MINUTES LATER, Jack maneuvered away from the dock and headed into the channel. It was even darker on the water. He didn’t want to turn on his running lights, much less the spotlight in case someone lurked nearby. But it was dangerous to be on the lake blind. Dangerous for others, dangerous for him. If he strayed from the middle of the channel, he had to worry about cypress knees below the surface and those thick mats of aquatic vegetation that could entangle the boat’s propeller.

He turned on the spotlight, keeping the beam concentrated on the water ahead of him. As he neared the bridge, he shifted into neutral and drifted as he trained the light along the banks where ground mist thickened. Cypress trees rose from the shallows like bearded sentinels, obscuring both ends of the bridge. Beyond the lake was the pine forest and all along the water’s edge, a creeping carpet of lily pads and lotus.

He made a pass underneath the first span of the bridge, once again searching along the banks and in the deeper water of the channel before returning through the second span. Clouds blocked the moon so thoroughly he had to rely solely on the spotlight. Even through the mist, he could pick out turtles and frogs and the red glowing eyes of an alligator, but he saw nothing unusual in the water.

If someone had thrown a body off the bridge, they would have more than likely weighted it. It could take days or even weeks to surface. He was wasting his time and he knew it. All he’d heard was a distant splash. All he’d seen was a bobbing flashlight. He had no reason to believe that anything untoward—

She was there in the shallows, floating on her back among the lily pads.

Jack used the trolling motor to navigate through the strangling vegetation and then a paddle to hold the boat steady as he observed the body. He didn’t attempt to drag her from the water. She was dead and had been the moment the bullet passed through the back of her skull and exited between her eyes. During his time as a cop, he’d seen that jagged, X-shaped wound before, usually in drug-related executions. The facial damage was extensive, but the best Jack could tell, she was young, probably no more than early twenties, with long blond hair floating all around her.

He sat for a moment, awash in memories before he took out his phone and called Tommy Driscoll’s number.

The phone rang five times before Tommy finally answered. He sounded annoyed and winded. “Driscoll.”

“Tommy, it’s Jack King.”

“Jack? It’s a little late, isn’t it, buddy?”

“Not for this.”

“You heard from Nathan?” he asked anxiously.

“I’m calling about something else.”

A long silence. “Where are you?”

“Sitting in my uncle’s boat on Pine Lake. I’m about fifty yards south of the old bridge. You’d better get out here. There’s a body in the water.”

He heard the sharp intake of Tommy’s breath. “Do you know who it is?”

“Female Caucasian. Blonde, slim build from what I can tell. She’s young. Early twenties, I’m guessing. Looks like someone shot her in the back of the head and then dumped her body off the bridge.”

“No need for an ambulance, I take it.” Tommy’s voice seemed oddly hushed.

“No, but you’d better send for the coroner. I’ll stay with her until you get here.”

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing on Pine Lake?”

“I don’t think that much matters right now, does it?”

“It might,” Tommy said. “I’ll see you in a few minutes. We’ll talk then.”

Jack dropped the phone back in his pocket, his gaze still on the body. He cut the spotlight. The garish brilliance somehow seemed offensive. As darkness slid over him, he had the uncanny feeling that he wasn’t alone. He told himself it was just the situation. The similarities to Anna were bound to unnerve him. But he couldn’t shake the notion that someone was near. Someone watched him.

Turning on the spotlight, he raked the powerful beam all along the banks and then into the shadowy corners of the bridge. He almost expected to see someone at the guardrail staring down at him. No one was there. He was alone on the water with the dead woman.

He made one more sweep, this time slanting the beam up in the trees. As he shifted the light, he caught a glimpse of something white through the cypress branches. A barn owl, he thought, or a snowy egret. But as he focused the light, he realized the shimmer of white wasn’t in a tree, but at the very top of the bridge. For a moment he could have sworn someone was up in the rafters.

He shook his head and moved the light away. Crazy notion.

He sat in the gently rocking boat and let the night sounds settle over him. Then he angled the beam back to the truss. The white object was still up there.

Pushing off with the paddle he let the boat float back into the center of the channel before he started the motor. The outboard hummed throatily as he navigated toward the bridge. Backing off the throttle he aimed the light up through the Spanish moss. Whatever he expected to find was not what he saw. Never in a million years could he have imagined such a sight.

The floor of the bridge was a good fifteen feet above the water and from the deck, a series of braces and struts climbed another twenty feet to the iron beam that ran the length of the bridge.

On top of that narrow girder, a woman lay curled in the fetal position.

* * *

OLIVE’S EYES FLEW OPEN. She had been dreaming again about falling. Down, down, down into that misty abyss. The nightmare had been so real that she still had the smell of the swamp in her nostrils. She could even feel a breeze on her face.

She lay for a moment, breathing deeply as she tried to calm her racing heart.

What was that creaking sound? She couldn’t place it. The ceiling fan, maybe?

“Don’t move,” a male voice said nearby.

That brought her fully awake. She started to sit up, but a hand on her shoulder eased her back down and she realized another hand had clamped around her wrist. Panic exploded. Her instinct was to lash out at the intruder, to fight him off with every ounce of strength she could muster, but she was suddenly aware of her surroundings. That creak didn’t come from any ceiling fan. She wasn’t even in her bedroom. She was—

“Where am I?” she gasped, as her whole world tilted.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” The voice was deep and silky smooth. Olive found it at once soothing and terrifying.

“Got me...where?”

“You know the old bridge over Pine Lake?”

“Yes, I know it...” She trailed away as she tried to peer through the darkness. A light glimmered somewhere below her. She felt compelled to turn and stare into the beam, but the swaying sensation and the hand on her shoulder kept her immobile. “I’m on the bridge?”

“More or less,” the voice said.

Terror surged as she pictured the gaping holes in the rotting floorboards and the unstable framework towering over her. The image dizzied her and she had to suppress the urge to flail her arms, searching for a handhold.

Now she understood the creaking and swaying.

“You have to stay calm, okay? I’m not going to let you fall, but you need to do exactly as I say.”

“Fall?” She started to tremble.

“We’re going to get you down, but it’ll take some maneuvering.”

“Why can’t I just stand up and walk off the bridge?” she asked in a quivering voice.

“You’re not exactly on the bridge. You’re on top of it.”

“On top of it?”

“On top of the truss.”

“That’s impossible.” But even as she protested, she realized the feathery forms all around her were the tops of cypress trees. She could feel the night air on her face and the hardness of the support beneath her. The nightmarish sensation of falling gripped her again and she said in a terrified whisper, “Please don’t let go of me.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

Somehow she believed him. “How did I get up here?”

“You tell me.”

“Sometimes I sleepwalk. I have these falling dreams—”

“You’re not going to fall. If you go, I go and I’m not in the mood for a swim. So here’s what I need you to do. Right now, you’re lying on your left side facing out toward the water. Take a moment to get your bearings.”

“I can see cypress trees. There’s a light somewhere below us—”

“Don’t look down. Stay focused on the task at hand. Listen to me carefully. I need you to roll to your stomach, but there’s not a lot of space to operate. I’d say about a foot, give or take.”

She put out a hand and felt nothing but air. “I can’t. There isn’t enough room.”

“If there’s room enough for you to curl up and sleep, there’s enough room for you to roll over. Besides, you’re small. You don’t need much space.”

“I can’t. Please don’t make me.”

He was silent for a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Olive Belmont.”

“Olive? As in Nathan Bolt’s cousin?” He sounded surprised.

“Yes. You know Nathan?”

“We go back. Listen to me, Olive. We’re going to do this together, okay? I’m right here with you. You’ll be able to see me in a moment. Put your right hand on the support and clamp your fingers around the edge. Do the same with your left as you slowly position yourself facedown.”

Olive clutched the edge, but she didn’t roll over. Not for the longest time. Then drawing a breath, she slowly shifted her body. The rafter rocked and the whole frame seemed to shimmy. She froze. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. This bridge isn’t going anywhere. Just take your time. That’s it. Nice and easy.”

Olive tried to ignore the metallic screeches and the disorienting sway of the structure beneath her. Instead, she let that soothing voice guide her as she maneuvered her hands and body until she lay face down on the support, still breathing hard and trembling.

“Good job. Now you’re going to get on your hands and knees and slowly crawl toward me. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t look down, look at me. Whenever you’re ready.”

Olive rose on hands and knees, balancing herself on the precarious beam. The light from below provided enough illumination so that she could see the silhouette of the man facing her.

“Follow me, Olive. Nice and slow. We’re in no hurry. We have all night.”

His voice flowed over her, so honeyed, so comforting in the dark. She could see the gleam of his eyes, the curve of his jaw. He seemed very steady on the rafter. Not the least bit afraid.

She drew a deep breath and released it. “I’m ready.”

They began to move slowly, inch by inch toward the end of the bridge. He had the more difficult job because he was maneuvering backward on the unsteady support. He didn’t look over his shoulder or down at the water. He kept his eyes trained on Olive. She tried to do the same. She didn’t dare look out over the lake. She didn’t dare peer down into that misty abyss.

“Almost there. You’re doing great, but I need you to stay focused, okay? I need you to stay calm.” He came to a halt and she did the same. His eyes gleamed in the dark as he held her gaze. “Now comes the tricky part.”

“The tricky part?” she echoed faintly.

“We’re going to lower ourselves over the side. The braces form a sort of ladder at the end of the horizontal beam. I imagine that’s how you got up here.”

“I don’t remember.”

“It’s not as hard as it sounds. I climbed this thing more times than I could count as a kid. Nathan did, too.”

“That doesn’t sound like Nathan,” she said.

“It took a lot of double-dog daring.”

She heard a smile in his voice and shivered. “I’m ready.”

He went over the side first, finding his footing and then clinging with one hand as he waited for her. Olive counted to ten and then eased into position, lowering her legs and grappling for a foothold. The movement must have put too much pressure on the rusty bolts. She heard a loud snap and then one end of the beam dropped out from under her. For one heart-stopping moment, she found herself in a free fall.

Then a hand clamped around her wrist. “Easy now. I’ve got you.”

“Don’t let go!” she pleaded.

“Not a chance,” he said as he tightened his grip.


Chapter Three (#ue6b58201-9381-5980-ba81-7339b74a0793)

He pulled her up to the ladder and then his arm came around her, holding her close as she found her footing. Now that one end of the beam had popped free, the integrity of the structure was even more compromised. The struts clanged ominously as Olive and her rescuer began their descent. At deck level, he climbed over the guardrail and helped her through. She clutched his arm, mindful of all those missing planks and the glisten of water far below.

“Let’s get off this thing,” he said and took her hand, leading her from the bridge. When they were safely on the bank, she stopped and bent double, catching her breath.

“Are you okay?”

She drew in air. “I just need a moment.”

“You did great,” he said.

She sucked in several more breaths before she straightened. She could see him more clearly now. He was tall and slim with broad shoulders and long legs. Dark hair, dark eyes. Tantalizingly familiar.

She could see him so well, in fact, she wondered if the moon was up, but then she realized the light came from a bobbing boat at the edge of the water.

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you. If you hadn’t found me when you did...” She trailed off on another shudder. “How did you even know to look for me up there?”

“I didn’t. It was just a lucky break.” He paused. “You really don’t remember how you got up there?”

“I don’t even know how I got to the lake. I have no memory of leaving my house.” She glanced down at her bare feet, realizing for the first time that she was in her pajamas. The fabric was summer-weight cotton. Sheer if the light hit her just right, but modesty was the least of her worries. She pulled a leaf from her hair and watched it swirl to the ground. “I don’t remember anything.”

“What about sounds?” he asked. “Did you hear any loud noises? A car engine maybe?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. But sleepwalking occurs in deep sleep. I never remember anything.”

He stared down at her for a moment. “Do you do this often?”

“No, not in years. I had a sleep disorder in my early teens, but I thought I’d outgrown it. Anyway, the point is, it’s like having amnesia. I don’t even know what awakened me.”

“Maybe you sensed my presence up there on the beam or felt my hand on your shoulder. I did my best not to startle you.”

“Thank you. That could have been disastrous for both of us.” Now that she was on solid ground and the danger was over she found herself growing curious about him. He still seemed familiar and very capable. “You said you and Nathan go back. Did you go to school together?”

“From kindergarten on.”

“Wait. I know you,” she blurted as recognition dawned. “You’re Jack King.”

She saw a frown fleet across his face. “My reputation precedes me, I guess.”

“It isn’t that. I remember you from the year my mother and I moved to Pine Lake. We stayed with Nathan and his dad until we got our own place. You used to come by the house with Tommy Driscoll and some of the other seniors. You’d hang out by the pool. I was invisible to most of Nathan’s friends, but you were always nice to me.”

“Was I?”

She gave an awkward laugh. “I guess I was invisible to you, too. You don’t remember me, do you?”

“I do now, but you’ve changed. No glasses, no braces.” He canted his head, peering down at her in the light. “I think I can still see some freckles, though.”

A thrill chased up Olive’s spine at his scrutiny. She’d never told anyone—had barely admitted it even to herself—that she’d had a crush on Jack King that year. Nathan’s other friends were rude and boisterous, but Jack was different. To a hopelessly romantic fourteen-year-old, he’d seemed deep and introspective. And devastatingly handsome. “You haven’t changed a bit,” she said.

“I’d wait for better lighting to make that assessment.”

“I can see you just fine.”

Car engines sounded on the road. Doors slammed and male voices carried in the dark.

“That’ll be the sheriff.” Jack turned toward the trees and called out to the newcomers. “Down here!”

Olive scanned the woods anxiously. “You called the police? Why didn’t you wait for their help to get me down?”

“I didn’t think it a good idea to leave you up there any longer than was necessary. Besides, I didn’t call the cops because of you.” He hesitated, his eyes going past her to the water. “No easy way to say this. I found a body in the lake before I saw you on the bridge.”

Olive’s hand crept to her throat. “A body?”

“A woman.”

“Do you know who she is?”

“No. But if she’s local, the sheriff or one of his deputies can likely identify her.”

Olive closed her eyes in dread. “If she’s local, she’s probably someone I know.” A former student perhaps or even a friend. “Pine Lake is small. Everyone knows everyone.”

“I remember.”

She turned to the lake in horror. Someone she knew could be out there in the water at that very moment, dead and drifting. It gave her the oddest feeling. Part fear, part sadness, part relief. If she’d fallen from the rafters, she’d likely be dead and drifting, too.

But she was safe and sound thanks to Jack King and this night was no longer about her.

She wrapped her arms around her middle. “Could you tell how she died? Was it a drowning accident?”

His gaze on her deepened. Olive shivered at the intensity of his stare. The scruff on his lower face made him look dangerously enigmatic. The way he towered over her made him seem just plain dangerous.

“You should wait and ask the sheriff those questions. I wouldn’t want to be accused of interfering in his investigation.”

“Of course. I understand. It’s just...what if it is someone I know?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he said with a nod as Tommy Driscoll and two of his deputies came crashing through the underbrush. The subordinates wore uniforms, but Tommy had on jeans, cowboy boots and a white dress shirt with pearl buttons. He looked as if he had been out dancing. Or up to no good.

He stopped dead when he spotted them. Then he said something over his shoulder to one of the deputies before he joined Olive and Jack on the bank.

Olive tried not to show her disdain for the Caddo County sheriff. She respected his position but not so much the man. If Jack King had been her favorite of Nathan’s friends, Tommy Driscoll had been her least. Even as a teenager, he’d been arrogant and overbearing and she’d seen no evidence of evolution.

Unlike Jack, the years hadn’t been kind to him physically. His muscles had softened as his features had hardened. He was still married to his high school sweetheart, but rumors about affairs had run rampant for years. Beth Driscoll taught science at Pine Lake High School. She was a lovely woman and a dedicated teacher. Olive would never understand why someone who had so much going for her would put up with a man like Tommy.

He and Jack eyed each other warily before Tommy gave a brief nod. “Jack.”

“Tommy.”

They didn’t shake hands, Olive noted.

“Good to see you, buddy. Sorry it has to be under these circumstances. When did you get into town?”

“A few hours ago.”

“Helluva homecoming.” Tommy’s gaze slid to Olive, taking in her pajamas and bare feet. “Olive? What are you doing down here?”

“She just got here,” Jack said.

Tommy frowned. “Got here from where?”

“From the road. She said she heard my boat.”

It was all Olive could do not to turn and gape at Jack. Somehow she managed to stifle her shock under Tommy’s narrow-eyed inspection.

“Let’s let Olive answer for herself,” he said.

She nodded. “I was out for a walk when I heard the boat. I came down here to see who was out on the lake so late. I thought someone might be dumping trash. You know what an environmental hazard that poses.”

“I know you like your causes,” Tommy said. “But you’re telling me you were out for a walk at this hour? In your pajamas? Without shoes?”

“I didn’t expect to end up so far from the house. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately and I only meant to get a bit of fresh air to clear my head. Next thing I knew, I’d walked all the way to the lake.”

Tommy’s gaze went from Olive to Jack and then back to Olive. He lowered his voice as he took a step toward her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

His implication couldn’t have been plainer and she resented it on Jack’s behalf. She told herself it was silly to feel so protective of a stranger, but she found herself pressing closer to him anyway. “Of course, I am,” she said coolly. “And I think you’ve more important things to worry about than me.”

He gave her another curious look before turning back to Jack. “Where’s the body?”

Jack gestured toward the lake. “I can take you out in the boat and show you.”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, let’s go have a look.”

The deputies still hovered a few feet away and Tommy went over to confer for a moment.

“What was that all about?” Olive whispered furiously.

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” Jack said.

“By lying to the police?”

“It’ll be okay,” he assured her.

Olive wasn’t as convinced, but it was a little too late for second thoughts. Not only had she gone along with Jack’s fabrication, she’d embellished his account. If she came clean now, it would make both of them look foolish and possibly suspect.

But those lies had flowed just a little too easily, from her and from Jack. Olive had never considered herself the subversive type, although as Tommy had pointed out, she supported causes near and dear to her heart and had never been shy about voicing an opinion. Deliberately misleading the police, though? That was a serious matter and one she shouldn’t have undertaken so lightly.

She watched nervously as the two men climbed into the boat and pushed off. When they’d cleared the bank, Jack started the engine and steered them across the channel to the shallow water on the other side. They sat with the motor idling as he angled the spotlight down through the lily pads.

It seemed to Olive they stayed out on the water for an awfully long time. What were they talking about?

Finally, they headed back. Jack tied off and they disembarked.

Tommy climbed up the bank to where Olive and the two deputies waited. “Be easier to get her out from the other side,” he said. “Hope you boys brought your waders.”

Jack came up the bank, too, and she found herself instinctively gravitating to his side even as she kept her focus on the sheriff. “Who is she, Tommy?”

He hesitated. “I guess you’ll find out soon enough. It’s Jamie Butaud.”

Olive felt sick. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty certain. The physical description matches up. And Jack here spotted a tattoo on her left arm. I remember seeing it on Jamie.”

“A mermaid,” Olive murmured.

“You knew her?” Jack inquired gently.

“She was in one of my classes a few years ago before she dropped out of school. I always worried about her. She seemed so lost.”

“She worked for Nathan, didn’t she?” Tommy asked.

Both men peered at Olive in the dark, but it was the fierceness of Jack’s sudden concentration that took her by surprise. “Yes, as a receptionist.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” Tommy asked.

Olive shrugged. “I don’t remember specifically. I rarely go to Nathan’s office, but I would see Jamie in town from time to time, usually with her boyfriend.”

“She was still seeing the Waller kid?”

“Marc? Yes, as far as I know.”

“Bad news, that boy. Comes from a long line of bad news.” Tommy ran a hand through his hair. “Look, here, you two. I need you to keep quiet about this, at least until we can notify next of kin. And I’d like the chance to speak with Waller before he tries to skip town.”

Olive glanced from Tommy to Jack. “You don’t think her death was an accident, do you?”

“That’s safe to assume,” Tommy said. “We’ll know more after the autopsy, but the first thing we have to do is get her out of the water. You don’t need to be here for that. I’ll have Hank run you home while we wait for the coroner.”

“I can take her,” Jack said.

Tommy didn’t look too pleased by the offer. “In your boat? How’s that going to work? Olive lives in town, last I heard.”

“We’ll go to my uncle’s cabin and get my car. Seems to me you’ll need all your manpower here, Sheriff.”

Tommy scowled down at her. “You okay with that arrangement, Olive?”

She resisted the urge to inform him that she’d much rather be alone with Jack King than any of the other men present. Instead, she nodded and turned to Jack. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Tommy was still frowning. “I’ll need to see each of you in my office first thing in the morning. And remember what I said about keeping this quiet.”

Jack took Olive’s arm and helped her navigate the slippery bank. Once they’d cast off, she averted her gaze from the spot where he’d taken Tommy to view the body. But she couldn’t help glancing back at the bridge. She let her gaze travel up the iron braces to the very top of the truss. If Jack hadn’t spotted her...if he hadn’t climbed up there beside her...

Something came to Olive as the bridge receded in the distance. Now she understood why Jack had asked her if she’d heard a loud noise or a car engine.

In all likelihood, she’d been asleep on that beam when Jamie Butaud’s killer had thrown her body off the bridge.

* * *

A LITTLE WHILE later Jack pulled his car into Olive’s driveway and parked. She’d been very quiet on the ride into town, staring out the window until she needed to give him directions to her house.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, just lost in thought.” Her voice had taken on a raspy edge, either from nerves or the night air.

Jack cut the engine and the headlights went out, but the street lamp on the corner cast a hazy glow inside the car. Her skin looked pale in that light, but her face was alive with color—the copper of her freckles and the bright blue of her eyes framed by the deep russet of her hair. She peered at him so steadily he had to shift his gaze to the window, instinctively taking stock of their surroundings.

She lived on a quiet street in the oldest part of town. The houses on her block were small with wide front porches and tidy fenced yards. Jack had grown up only a few blocks over in a sturdy old Craftsman that his mother had loved. It had pained her to leave the house of her dreams, but after everything that had happened to their family, Pine Lake no longer seemed like home.

“What an awful homecoming you’ve had,” Olive murmured, echoing his thoughts. “This night must bring back a lot of bad memories for you.”

“This town is nothing but a bad memory.” He glanced in the rearview mirror, scanning the street behind them.

“If you really feel that way, why did you come back?”

“My uncle’s estate has some loose ends that can’t be tied up over the phone or in an email.”

“Oh, of course. I was so sorry to hear about his passing. He was a nice man. I always enjoyed his stories.” Her regret sounded deep and genuine.

Jack turned in surprise. “His stories?”

“He took classes at the community college where I sometimes teach at night. He was one of my favorite students.”

Jack stared at her in astonishment. “Leon went to night school? I never knew him to be interested in anything but fishing.”

“Then it may surprise you to learn that your uncle was a very gifted writer.”

He cast her a doubtful glance. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same Leon King?”

She smiled. “Yes, same man. He always spoke highly of you. He was very proud of the way you’d turned things around after everything you went through.” She paused thoughtfully. “For the record, I never believed you did it.”

“Why?”

His blunt challenge seemed to catch her off guard, but she recovered quickly. “Because of the way you would look at Anna. Anyone could see you were crazy about her. And why wouldn’t you be? She was a beautiful girl, inside and out.”

“She was,” he said quietly.

“And because it wasn’t in you. You weren’t capable of hurting anyone. I doubt you are now unless someone backs you into a corner.”

“You deduced all that in the space of one car ride?”

“I deduced all that a long time ago. You’re a good guy. Just like your uncle. Why else would you have climbed to the top of that bridge to rescue me?”

Her conviction caught him off guard. When Jack had decided to come back to Pine Lake, he’d braced himself for the whispers and gossip. The lingering suspicions. But he hadn’t prepared himself for Olive Belmont.

“I’ve been away from here for a long time,” he said. “I may not be the man you think I am.”

“I may not be the woman you think I am,” she countered. “If you think about me at all,” she added sheepishly.

“Hard to forget someone you meet on top of a bridge.”

He saw a shiver go through her as she turned to stare out the windshield. She looked very enticing with her hair all mussed and her lips slightly parted. Another time, another place and Jack might have responded to the subtle invitation in her smile. But a hookup was the last thing he needed, particularly with Nathan Bolt’s cousin. He’d come to town to poke a hornet’s nest. Depending on what he found, things could get ugly. Sides might have to be chosen. After all was said and done, he’d return to Houston while Olive would still have to live here. Jack knew only too well what it was like to be a pariah in Pine Lake.

She gave him another tentative smile and he tamped down the urge to tuck back her hair as he studied her face in the dim light.

“I know now why you told the sheriff I had just arrived at the lake,” she said. “I figured it out in the boat. You think I was on top of the bridge when the killer dumped Jamie’s body in the water.”

“Seems a safe bet. It couldn’t have taken more than five minutes for me to get to the bridge after I first heard a splash and you were already up there.”

“So you wanted to place me on the road rather than the bridge.”

He shifted his position, turning toward her as he relaxed his arm across the back of her seat. “I heard that splash and then a few minutes later, a car engine. The vehicle drove away on the other side of the lake. Even if you really had been on the road at the same time the body was dumped from the bridge, you wouldn’t have seen anything.”

She gave him an anxious look. “That explains why you asked if I’d heard a car engine. But I told you before—I never remember anything when I sleepwalk.”

“Jamie’s killer wouldn’t know that, though. He or she might not want to take the chance that something would eventually come back to you.”

That gave her pause. She cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder. “Do you really think I could be in danger?”

He wanted to reassure her that all would be well, but a false sense of security was never a good idea. She needed to watch her back. They weren’t out of the woods yet. The story they’d concocted for Tommy Driscoll was only a little more plausible than the actual truth. “As long as we don’t give the killer a reason to feel threatened, he’ll lay low. As far as anyone knows, I was the first to arrive on the scene. If he gets skittish, he’ll come after me.”

“That doesn’t give me much comfort,” she said with a frown.

“It should. I know how to handle myself.”

“Leon told me that you’d been a cop. And now you’re some sort of security consultant. With all your experience, you must have some idea of how Jamie died.”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

She swallowed. “I wasn’t. But now I think you have to tell me.”

“She has what appears to be a large exit wound between her eyes. I’m guessing she was shot at close range in the back of the head.”

“In the back of the head...” Olive repeated numbly.

“Without a closer examination of the body or a look at the autopsy report, I can only speculate. But I’ve seen the pattern of the wound before in execution-style murders.”

“Execution?” She stared at him in shock. “Who would do such a thing to poor Jamie?”

“You never heard talk about her involvement in any illegal activities?”

“She got into some trouble when she was younger. Drugs. Possession, I think. Her mother asked Nathan to represent her, but the family didn’t have any money. He agreed to take the case pro bono if Jamie agreed to go to night school and get her GED.”

“What about her boyfriend?”

“I don’t know him personally, but Tommy was right. Marc Waller is bad news. He was also arrested for possession but with the intent to sell. If convicted, he could have gone to prison for a very long time. But Nathan got the case dismissed because of an unlawful search. Needless to say, that didn’t go over well with local law enforcement.”

“Nathan Bolt seems to be the go-to attorney for drug charges,” Jack observed.

“Well, there aren’t a lot of choices in the area and my cousin is very good at what he does.” She sighed. “The news about Jamie will devastate him. If it turns out that Marc Waller had anything to do with her death, Nathan will never forgive himself.”

These revelations were all very interesting to Jack. On the night of his return, he’d stumbled across a murder victim who happened to be a young woman that Nathan Bolt had taken under his wing. The timing was a little more than Jack could swallow as happenstance.

“It’s late,” Olive said. “And we’re both expected at the police station first thing in the morning so...”

“Right. I’ll walk you to the door.”

“You don’t need to do that. I’m fine.”

Jack reached for the door handle. “For my own peace of mind, I’d like to have a look around before I go.”

“To be honest, it’s probably best for my peace of mind, too.”

They got out of the car and walked up the porch steps together. The front door stood ajar and Olive turned to him with a worried frown.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. I probably failed to close it earlier.”

Jack brushed past her, glancing over his shoulder to scan the street and all the shadowy corners of the yard before toeing open the door. “Where’s the light switch?”

“To your left.”

“Wait here.” He eased through the quiet house, giving each room a thorough search before returning to the foyer. “All clear.”

“Thanks for checking.” Olive stepped inside and followed his gaze to the bolt at the top of the door. “A precaution. Not that it did any good tonight.”

“You unlocked the deadbolt in your sleep?”

“Apparently.”

“You should get a security system, one with a loud enough alarm to wake you if a door or window is opened.”

“Yes, my mother had one put in when the episodes first started. As I said, I thought I’d outgrown them, but after tonight, I won’t take any chances. I’ll arrange for an installation as soon as possible.”

Jack took a last sweep of the small, but comfortable living area. The walls were white and the furniture gray, not unlike the nondescript color scheme in his apartment. But Olive had punctuated the space with pillows and throw rugs in bright shades of red and turquoise. He observed everything, not because her design aesthetic interested him, but because a house could reveal a lot about the person who lived there.

Olive Belmont seemed to be an open book. If her cousin was involved in something as shady as Tommy had implied, Jack doubted she knew anything about it. But then, he had been fooled before.

He stepped out on the porch and scoured the darkness. The breeze had picked up, fluttering through the trees in Olive’s front yard and unleashing the scent of jasmine from the bushes that grew up her fence. It was all very lush and homey and familiar and yet Jack felt strangely unmoored as if coming back here to his hometown had caused him to lose his bearings.

He turned back to Olive. “Are you sure you’ll be all right for the rest of the night?”

“I’ll be fine. If I sleep at all, it won’t be deeply enough to leave my bed.”

An image of that bed floated through Jack’s head—crisp white linens and soft, soft pillows.

“Well, good night, then.” He bent impulsively to kiss her cheek. The action took both of them by surprise and she jerked her head just enough so that his mouth brushed hers.

He didn’t pull away or offer an apology. Instead, he tangled his fingers in her hair and brought his mouth to hers, this time on purpose. She responded by parting her lips and kissing him back. When he pulled away, she looked disoriented, as if she had just awakened from another harrowing adventure.

“What a strange night this has been,” she murmured.

“Hasn’t it, though?” he said over his shoulder as he strode down the steps.


Chapter Four (#ue6b58201-9381-5980-ba81-7339b74a0793)

Olive was just coming out of the local coffee shop the next morning when she spotted Jack on his way in. He held the door for her and she stepped out on the sidewalk to join him, taking a moment to discreetly admire the fit of his faded jeans and the cotton shirt that he wore untucked and rolled up at the sleeves.

His hair was even darker than she remembered, his eyes a deep, rich chocolate. Despite what she’d said the night before, he had most definitely changed since their high school years. The harsh light of day emphasized the fine lines around his eyes, the resolved set of his jaw and a chiseled chin. The changes didn’t so much age him as harden him. He was a man in his prime rather than the seventeen-year-old boy who had been driven out of town by both his elders and his peers.

“Good morning,” she said in a tone far too bright for the circumstances. “Looks like we had the same idea.”

“It would seem so.” He stood with one hand still on the door as he gave her a long assessment.

His scrutiny was only fair, she supposed, since she’d done the same to him. Still, she was secretly relieved that she’d taken time with her appearance even though the sleeveless white dress and caged heels were for work and not for Jack King. Normally, she wouldn’t have been so formally turned out during summer break, but she had a faculty meeting later that morning, the first of the new school year, and she wanted to make a good impression. That Jack seemed to appreciate her fine-tuning was merely icing on the cake.

“Are you headed over to the sheriff’s office?” he asked.

“I’ve already been in.” They moved away from the door to the edge of the street so as not to block customer traffic. “We spoke briefly. I really couldn’t add much to my previous statement and Tommy revealed very little about the investigation. Although I gather word has already gotten out about Jamie’s death. That’s not surprising. Secrets are hard to keep in a town this small.”

“That hasn’t been my experience.” His tone was enigmatic. “You repeated what you’d already told him last night?”

“I stuck to our story if that’s what you mean.” She shot a quick glance over her shoulder and then leaned in. “Lying to the police before breakfast, let alone my first cup of coffee, is a lot more stressful than I would have imagined. I don’t know how career criminals do it.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you ad-libbed like a champ last night.”

She winced. “That doesn’t make me feel better. Worse, in fact. I work with kids. I take my responsibility as a role model very seriously. What does it say about my character that I could so easily withhold the truth in a murder investigation?”

“You have every right to protect yourself. Nothing you could have told him would change the course of his investigation. You didn’t see or hear anything. Why put yourself needlessly at risk?”

“I guess.”

He glanced back at the shop door. “I should grab my coffee and go. Tommy will be expecting me.”

“And I need to get to work. Good luck with your interview.” She paused. “Should we get together later to compare notes? I have a meeting at ten, but I’ll be in my office all afternoon.”

“I’ll try to give you a call.”

A noncommittal answer if Olive had ever heard one, but she decided not to take it personally. She’d enjoyed their good-night kiss—had been quite stunned by it, in fact—but she didn’t attach too much importance to the gesture. Jack had acted on impulse and she’d responded in kind. Blame it on the lingering adrenaline from her rescue. Olive freely acknowledged an attraction to him, but really, wasn’t his allure little more than an old memory?

Besides, it was probably for the best to keep some distance. After last night, there would undoubtedly be talk. Olive wasn’t one to live her life in fear of gossip, but like it or not, reputation mattered in a small town, especially for someone in her position. The next few weeks were crucial. They could well set the tone for the whole school year, if not the rest of her career. She would be foolish to invite distraction and controversy when everything she’d worked so hard for was at stake.

She murmured a goodbye and then turned to cross the street only to have Jack grab her arm and yank her back to the curb as a black pickup truck roared through the intersection. Her heel caught in a crack and she went down in an ungainly sprawl. The coffee cup flew out of her hand, exploding on impact with the pavement. Mortified, Olive could only stare helplessly at the spreading brown splotches on her white dress.

Jack was instantly at her side. “You okay?”

“I think so.” She took his hand and quickly scrambled to her feet. A small group had already started to gather and Olive would have liked nothing more than to sink right through the sidewalk.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, fine.” She dusted her hands and tried to salvage her poise. If anything could be more embarrassing than taking a spill in public, it was doing so in the presence of a high school crush. “That’s the second time you’ve had to come to my rescue in as many days. And the second time in less than a week that I almost got hit stepping off a curb. I really should pay more attention.”




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