Page 106 of Darkwater Lane

What the fuck happened? Where is Madison? Where’s Sam?

There’s something I’m missing. Some clue I overlooked.Think, Gwen, think!

Then it comes to me. The thing that’s been causing my internal alarms to spike: the engine I heard earlier. The unevenput-put-putof an old boat pulling away from the shore. It’s winter—dark and cold—and there’s absolutely no reason for anyone to be out on the water at this time of night. Not any good reason, at least.

I step outside and stare at the lake, a giant pool of darkness dominating the landscape. A small light flickers offshore—a boat slowly chugging away from the dock.

I think of Rowan, her body thrown into the water the night before. I think of the two women Lancel Graham killed four years ago, also tossed into the lake. I won’t let it happen again.

Sam may not be the one behind the Sicko Patrol murders, but that doesn’t mean he’s not willing to kill to protect us. I refuse to let him do it. I won’t let him kill her. Not to save Madison but to save our family.

No one else dies. Melvin’s legacy ends now.

28

GWEN

As I sprint down the hill toward the dock, I fumble with my phone, calling 911 again. The moment I hear a voice on the other end I start talking. “Tell Diakos they’re out on Stillhouse Lake. I’m going after them.”

At the dock, I don’t hesitate. The old boards tremble and groan under my feet as I race toward the ancient boats tied up at the end. I don’t take the time to untie one; instead, I toss the phone into the hull to free up my hands and grab the utility knife from my pocket, severing the rope tethering the sturdiest-looking one to the dock. I double-check the safety on the gun and slip it into my pocket.

Then, I jump aboard, bracing myself as the rickety boat lurches beneath me. I jam the knife in the ignition and turn. It takes several tries before the motor chugs to life. A sleek motorboat this thing is not. I open the throttle as much as I can, and the engine strains and protests, the boat pulling away at a painfully slow pace.

There’s no sneak approach out here on the lake. Sound carries over the water, and the moon hangs brightly in the sky overhead. I point the bow toward the other boat and urge it forward, my heartscreaming in my chest. As the engine warms, I pick up speed until I’m moving fast enough that wind tangles my hair.

The light on the other boat grows sharper as I approach. I can see two figures standing near the stern, one larger than the other, but both little more than shadows. Still, there’s no question it’s Madison and Sam. They tussle and grapple with each other as the boat heaves and tips underneath them. Just when I’m terrified it will tip, dumping both into the frigid water, I hear a gunshot.

The sudden sound of it echoes across the lake’s surface, shattering the night.

My insides seize with panic. I watch helplessly as Sam stumbles back, his hand grabbing for his arm. His foot must catch on something in the bottom of the boat because he’s suddenly teetering, one arm pinwheeling to regain his balance but failing.

He falls, and I hear another loud crack as his head slams against the gunwale. He disappears from view into the boat.

“Sam!” I throttle down and yank the wheel sharply, turning the boat and allowing momentum to carry me sideways toward the other craft, where Madison stands, gun clutched in her hands, the barrel pointed toward where Sam fell.

I pull my own gun, flipping off the safety as I raise it. “Drop it, Madison!”

She spins to face me, the boat teetering at her sudden shift in weight. Her hair is disheveled, and her clothes are dirty and torn. Her eyes go wide when she sees me, her mouth parting slightly in surprise. Then she notices the gun aimed at her chest.

She draws in a sharp breath and swings her arms wide, her gun still gripped in her hands but pointed away from me. “Oh, thank God! Gwen!” She’s practically sobbing.

All I can think about is Sam lying at the bottom of that boat. Shot. Bleeding. I need to get to him. My heart trips against my ribs, panic pressing against my lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

“H-he was trying to kill me,” Madison blubbers.

“Drop the fucking gun!” I scream. I can’t get to Sam while she’s still armed.

She jerks her head back as though she’s been hit. She opens her mouth, seems to think better of whatever she was about to say, and closes it. With a flick of her wrist, she tosses the gun overboard. It hits the water with a splash, and I let out small breath of relief that she didn’t resist.

“Get to the back of the boat,” I order her. “Hands on top of your head.”

“Gwen,” she starts. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not the enemy here. Sam came after me. I swear. He was trying to?—”

I don’t want to hear it. Not right now. “Move!” I growl at her.

She must see the terror and rage on my face because she swallows and nods. Without lowering her arms, she shuffles to the rear of the boat and sits.

It’s the best I’m going to get. Keeping my gun trained on her, I crouch and use my free arm to reach between the boats, grabbing the rail of the other and pulling us together. The sides collide with a screech of metal that sends both vessels tipping.

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