Page 14 of It Happened on the Lake

Harper ducked.

Too late!

Bam!

The thick book smacked into her face, a corner jabbing into Harper’s eye socket. Knocked backward, she started to sink, the water a cool, soothing blanket. For a second the world swam before her eyes, orange and gold shimmering. Pages from the album floated downward. Photos swirled around her, old pictures of the boys she’d known.

Boys she’d loved.

Boys she’d touched.

Chase . . .

Levi . . .

Chase again . . .

Rand and Chase . . .

Stunned, blood whirling around her, she was lost . . .

“Harper,” Gram said as surely as if she was whispering in her ear, “Harper, you wake up! You wake up right now!”

Harper blinked, floating as if in slow motion, the world spinning.

Her eyes opened and for a few seconds she couldn’t determine what was up or down or remember where she was . . . and then she caught a glimpse of the orange glow seeming to float in the sky above her.

She blinked.

In a second, she was alert again.

Realized where she was.

She kicked upward.

She needed air.

Now!

As she broke the surface, she gulped water along with air. Coughing and sputtering, pain ricocheting through her face, the horrible night came into clear, sharp focus.

Cynthia Hunt’s clothes were aflame, and she shrieked in agony, falling to her knees as another swimmer, a balding man, nearly reached the craft.

It was too late.

Gas had spilled onto the debris-strewn water. Flames surrounded the small craft. Burning, cracking, sending up a cloud of black smoke. The man kept trying to get to the Hunts’ boat but was driven back.

Dazed, Harper floated.

Sirens screamed, closer now, echoing over the water.

Did she hear shouts?

The sound of another boat engine?

A large craft tearing across the water, a spotlight trained on the horror in the smaller craft?

She couldn’t tell.

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