Page 12 of It Happened on the Lake

Bam!

Her chin bounced on the edge of a step.

Pain exploded through her jaw.

“Oooh. God.” Stunned, Harper slid down the final two steps to the rain-soaked deck. She rolled onto her back. The warm ooze of blood mingled with cold raindrops to run down her chin and neck. She blinked to stay conscious. Thought she might be sick.

No! No! No!

Get up!

She took in a deep breath.Damn it all!

From the corner of her eye she caught a glimmer of orange. The flames. The boat afire. A woman—Cynthia Hunt—trapped on board. A woman who hated Harper’s guts.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Harper forced herself to her feet, swiped at her chin, and refused to feel the ache in her right leg as she ran across the deck, kicking off her shoes and peeling off her sweater.

Somewhere far off, she heard sirens wailing through the night.

Thank God!

Oh, please, please, hurry!

She sprang, diving deep.

Knifing into the water.

Feeling the lake’s icy embrace.

Swimming faster than she’d ever swum before.

Toward the torch in the middle of the lake.

Toward Cynthia Hunt.

Before it was too late.

If it wasn’t already.

Swim!

Swim, Harper, swim!

Faster!

Where the hell were the other neighbors?

As she swam, she thought she heard the motors of other boats.

Oh God, please . . .

And the cops. Could they hurry and show up?

Stroke!

Stroke, stroke, stroke!

The boat loomed nearer, a funeral pyre.

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