Page 60 of Summer Ever After
After telling the story to Max I realized that I needed to talk to a lawyer, and not trust the word of the woman who had basically just threatened to kill me for my inheritance. “Just like you hated to see something happen to my father.”
“That was an accident. Everybody knows that.”
My dad’s car accident hadn’t been regarded as suspicious and his death had been ruled accidental. Faulty brake lines could happen to anyone, but the odds of them happening to my dad’s prized Camaro were slim.
I lunged forward at Christina and shoved her as hard as I could. The shoes in my hand clacked as they came into contact with her skull, the heel jabbing her in the eye. Christina stumbled, clutching her face. “You bitch. You fucking bitch. My eye.” Her heel slipped in between the dock boards and she tumbled backward. While she was down, I crouched next to her and pulled the earring from her lobe.
I crab-walked away from her as fast as I could. Christina rolled onto her hands and knees, and when she looked up at me, a snarl ripped across her face, her eyes flashing with pure darkness. She lunged at me, her arms wrapping around my waist. She was surprisingly strong and we fell backwards together. The last thing I remember is seeing the steel dock cleat coming directly at my face.
SIXTEEN
MAX
Red sky in the morning,sailors take warning. The old saying ran through my mind as I sat on the rock watching for Rosie. My motorcycle was waiting, a spare helmet stashed in the saddlebag, the cat charm with the ruby tucked in my pocket.
The red sky turned pink, then gray, then finally blue as the sun fully rose above the horizon. The beach was empty and the lake was calm as glass. Every sound was amplified. Loons called, fish jumped, and cars beeped in the distance. But there was no Rosie.
She had promised. I felt like a fool. She had done it to me again.
I waited another hour for good measure, but by eight o’clock it became clear that I was getting stood up – again.
My bike’s tire made a huge rut in the dirt parking lot as I spun out of there. How could I have fallen for it again? I revved the engine and pushed the speed in the corners a little faster than I should. I didn’t want safe, I wanted reckless. I wanted adrenaline, fear, a near-death experience – something to take away the dull ache in the center of my chest.
As I reached the marina, an ambulance screamed past me, its sirens wailing. I had to admire the speed, whoever was driving would put a NASCAR driver to shame. By the time I parked my bike, Trey was waiting at the end of the dock, my wakeboard boat idling.
“Do you know why the ambulance was here?” I tossed my saddlebags into the boat.
“No idea.” Trey shrugged. “Some old guy probably had a heart attack on the golf course or something.”
That was the last I thought about it. “Move over.” I gestured for Trey to get into the passenger seat with my thumb.
“Sure, Boss.” Trey slid over and grabbed at his hat as I punched the throttle down. The owners of the marina hated it when people drove their boats fast, the wakes jostled the boats – but I didn’t give a shit. I dared the owner to come and give me shit for it. My body was tense, I felt like a shaken pop can, ready to explode.
When I docked the boat, Trey hopped out. “Are you going to park it?” he asked.
“I’m going to go for a ride.” The idea of sitting still seemed like torture, I needed to keep moving. I flicked on the radio and searched for the local station. “What’s the forecast?” My mind flashed back to the early morning pink sky. Getting caught out in a storm might actually feel better than heartbreak.
“The wind is going to pick up this afternoon, gusting to twenty knots. As long as you’re back by lunchtime you should be fine though. Or, you could take one of the bigger boats.”
Some country song about back roads was playing and then the radio announcers came on. “Let’s see what the forecasters say.”
Trey crossed his arms. He gathered his weather information from raw data and often complained about the local weather forecasters. The announcer made some lame joke about Windswan’s back roads being bumpy and not curvy, and then got serious.
An unidentified woman was found unconscious in Windswan Lake this morning. She has been transported to the Chance Rapids hospital in life-threatening condition. Police are working hard to identify the woman and are asking for the public’s help in identifying the young woman. She’s described as early twenties, five foot nine, with an athletic build and a shaved head.
I blinked. “You said you dropped Rosie off last night.”
“I did.” The blood looked like it had drained from Trey’s face. “I delivered her right to the main dock. She was fine, Max. I swear.”
“Unless there’s another woman with a shaved head on this lake, she is clearly NOT fine, Trey. Did you walk her to her car?”
Trey’s face went from white to a shade of red the same as the navigational markers on the channel in front of the cottage. “She told me to leave. She was waiting for her stepmom.”
I didn’t wait for any more information. I launched myself out of the boat. “Dock this thing.”
“Max. What are you going to do?” Trey shouted.
Ignoring him, I sprinted to the staircase at the boathouse. The Starling chopper was on the helipad, ready to go. I pulled on the headset, pushed the button to fire it up, and lifted off without any safety checks.
