Page 42 of Stranger in the Lake

“How? How is this baby a good thing? It’s going to live at the edge of a lake that’s sucking down women left and right, raised by what everybody says are gold-digging and maybe murdering parents. This baby is not exactly coming in on a winning streak.”

He shifts on the lounger. “That’s not... You always say not to pay any mind to what people are saying, and they’re not seeing what I see, that this baby will have two parents who actually like each other. Y’all eat meals together and hold hands on the couch and smile more when the other’s around. I’m no expert, but it seems like the biggest battle is already won.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“A little.” He gives me a sheepish shrug. “But I kinda mean it, too. I don’t know. I’m as confused as you are.”

I laugh. If nothing else, Chet is honest.

The doorbell rings, and I’m out of the chair in an instant, breath tingling in my lungs. I’m praying it’s Paul, who left in such a hurry he forgot his keys. First I’m going to hug him and then I’m going to strangle him, or maybe the other way around. Or maybe both at the same time.

I sprint into the foyer, and it’s not Paul’s face pressed to the window. It’s Micah’s.

Micah, who I’ve lied to now, what—three times? Four? I’ve lost count, and I know enough about lying to know that forgetting can’t be a good thing. You have to keep track of all the lies you tell and to whom. You have to tie up all the threads and not let a single one dangle. One good tug on mine and the whole thing unravels.

He waves, then points to the wall. “Alarm,” he mouths through the glass.

Chet steps up behind me, breathing hard. “Uh-oh,” he mutters.

My joints feel locked up like superglue, but what other choice do I have?

“Just a sec,” I shout through the glass. I smile brightly, hold up a finger and whirl around to face Chet. “Not a word,” I whisper. “You promised.”

Chet gives me awho, me?look.

I step to the panel, tick in the code and let Micah inside.

19

I gesture for Micah to follow me into the kitchen, where Chet is already popping open two Heinekens. On the island before him is what has kept him busy all afternoon—a thick wooden cutting board covered in onion peels and vegetable skins, surrounded by bottles and boxes and mixing bowls. Dinner, by the looks of things, a salad of broccoli and carrot and sliced almonds, thin strips of cucumber swimming in sour cream, two giant T-bones resting on a platter. Behind him, lined up like soldiers, two potatoes wrapped in silver foil sit on a rack in the upper oven.

“Wow, this is some spread,” Micah says, taking in the food, doing the math. Two of each means none for Paul.

“Chet’s practicing to be a chef. You should see what he does with pimento cheese. He makes it taste like dessert.” My words are too fast and my voice too bright, like a spotlight on the melting snow outside.

“Here you go, Sheriff,” Chet says, handing over the beer. “Got any news about Sienna?”

I widen my eyes at Chet—real subtle—but Micah doesn’t seem to mind the question. “Yep, but not anything I can tell the two of you. Dad’s holding a press conference tomorrow morning, though, so maybe give it a watch.” He tips the bottle at Chet, then me. “Cheers.”

I pour myself a glass of water, but I can’t drink. My stomach is in knots, my hand shaking the glass. I set it on the marble with a hard smack.

“I hear you took the boat to town.” Micah pauses to receive my nod. “Don’t do it again, okay? This entire end of the lake is an active crime scene. I put up no-entry signs at either side of the bend by Piney Creek, and if you see anybody out on the water between now and tomorrow morning, I want to know about it.”

“What happens tomorrow morning?”

“We’ll be back in the lake as soon as it’s light, looking at currents, trying to determine her trajectory from the moment she went in the water until we fished her out so we know where to point the sonar.” His eyes flash with excitement. For Micah, there’s no better day than one he gets to strap on his flippers and an oxygen tank and skim the lake bottom like a catfish, sifting through the silt for evidence. “We’ll be starting in the cove, though, so if anyone tries to sneak past us, we’ll see it.”

I nod, the tightness I’ve been carrying around all day releasing just a tiny bit in my chest. Micah and his divers will be out on the cove tomorrow, which means no more surprise visits from Jax, no more vile words carved into the snow.

Micah swivels his head to Chet, watching from the other side of the counter. “In the meantime, Dad says for you to stop harassing Piper.”

A red flush sprouts on Chet’s cheeks, and his gaze darts between me and Micah.His expression saysfuuuuuuuuuck.

“I wasn’t harassing her,” Chet says slowly, thinking about every word before it comes out of his mouth. “Piper and I were just...talking. About stuff.”

Micah gives him a knowing nod. “What kind of stuff?”

Chet coughs into a fist. “Basically, she told me to leave her alone because she doesn’t want to go to jail.”

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