Lost Lake (Lost Lake Locators #4)

Chapter 1

She was missing—maybe dead—and it was all Gabe’s fault.

Kenna. His best friend for twenty-five years. Her four-year-old daughter, too. Gone.

Kenna. Lucy. Where are you?

He scanned the shoulder of the narrow winding road, headlights cutting through thick fog. One last attempt. His Lost Lake Locators team had already searched every route from Kenna’s house to Lost Lake.

Nothing. Not a trace.

The others had returned to the office, urging him to come with them. He couldn’t. Not after her voicemail around six p.m.—her voice shaking, whispering she was in danger. She’d said she was just leaving home, starting the one-hour drive.

That was nearly two and a half hours ago.

So where was she? Where was sweet little Lucy?

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Sweat slicked his palms despite the cold April air. “Get a grip, man. You’re no good to her like this.”

He reached the intersection for Lost Lake Road and forced his breathing to slow. She shouldn’t have taken this turn. It didn’t lead anywhere she needed to go. Unless Lucy had begged to see the lake.

No. The fear in Kenna’s voice hadn’t belonged to a woman stopping to sightsee.

Still, he and his team had no leads after searching for two hours. None. A quick loop around the lake would take fifteen minutes. That was all.

He crawled forward. Wind howled and buffeted the vehicle. He scanned both sides of the road through the thick mist.

Nothing.

Then—something.

A shadow in the ravine below. Large. Metallic.

His stomach sank. He coasted to a stop at the overlook and killed the engine.

Flashlight. He yanked it from the console and jumped out. Forty-degree air. Misty rain. He jogged to the edge. The beam sliced through fog, catching weeds and rock. The shape below was half-buried, indistinct in the shadows, impossible to make out.

He shifted the flashlight to his left hand and gripped a sapling, easing down the steep incline. Slow steps when every instinct screamed to run. His feet skittered down the slope. Brambles tore at his jeans. His heart pounded in his ears.

Closer. Closer he came.

The light caught a wave of turquoise.

Then cream trim.

No. Please no!

A vintage Volkswagen bus. License plate SUNSHN, the custom plate Kenna had added just last week.

Her bus.

“Oh, God. No. Please.” He let go of the sapling and slid the rest of the way down, landing hard beside the vehicle.

He scrambled to his feet and yanked open the driver’s door. Cream dashboard. A little flower charm hanging from the mirror. Every detail screamed Kenna. But maybe…

He lunged across the seat, ripped open the glove compartment, and jerked out the registration.

Confirmation. Kenna James.

“What were you doing on this road?”

Lucy’s freckled face flashed in his mind. Fiery red pigtails. Wide grin.

Air locked in his lungs.

Stop thinking. Move.

He bolted outside and wrenched open the sliding door. The child’s car seat was gone. Floofy Bear lay slumped on the bench seat, abandoned.

“No.” A sickening weight settled low in his gut. “She would never leave her favorite bear.”

He tore through the bus. Three suitcases. A box of toys. Too much for a short visit.

She’d been running.

From what?

Not Lucy’s father. He wasn’t in the picture. Never had been.

Sirens wailed in the distance. Too close.

Cold dread slid through him.

He pulled out his phone and called Nolan, their team leader, to ask if his fiancée, Mina Park, the local sheriff, found anything. “You hear anything from Mina?”

“No. You find them?”

“Not them, but Kenna’s bus crashed in a ravine. Sirens are closing in on the lake.”

“I’ll call Mina. She might know what’s going on. Hang tight.”

Gabe shoved the phone into his pocket and clawed his way back up the ravine. He charged to the overlook. Flashing lights painted the fog an eerie blue glow, and sirens wailed just down the road.

The sound of distress. Trouble needing intervention.

Patrol cars stopped near the beach. Deputies sprinted downhill, flashlights slashing across sand and water. Someone waved frantically then pointed at the water.

Gabe ran to the edge of the lot and zoomed in with his phone’s camera. The image blurred with fog and motion.

His phone rang. “Nolan.”

“Mina said they found a body floating in the lake. A man dragged it to shore. It’s too late.”

Something icy gripped Gabe from the inside. “Male or female?”

“She doesn’t know yet.”

He started toward the beach, every muscle shaking. “The child?”

A pause.

Nolan cleared his throat. “Empty car seat on the dock.”

Gabe’s legs gave out. He hit the ground, his palms striking dirt, lungs burning for air that wouldn’t come.

Kenna. Lucy.

He’d promised to protect them.

Now what?

Either there was still a chance or this was a nightmare he’d never escape.

The callout proved accurate, and Detective Elaina Lyons swallowed hard, her pulse stuttering as she took in the scene on the beach below. A woman’s drenched body lay face down on the sand and an empty child’s car seat rested on the dock.

Her world narrowed to one desperate thought. A child could’ve wandered off after her mother drowned, lost in the dark.

Then a darker possibility came to mind.

No one swam in Lost Lake in March.

The woman could’ve been murdered. And the child?

El tried to shut the thought down, but it was as if a neon sign flashed in front of her.

Another missing child.

Victoria’s name echoed through her from the past.

No! Focus.

Hurry. Beat the threatening rain. Evidence would vanish if the weather turned.

She pulled on gloves and crossed the nearly empty parking lot. She joined Deputy Ewing at the taped-off stairway leading to the beach. “Did you call this in immediately?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He straightened, his expression turning uncertain. “After interviewing the witness. Deputy Massey is with him now.”

“Beach secure?”

“Yes. Trails on both sides are cordoned off.”

“Keep it that way. Give the ME access. No one else without my say.” She looked back at the scene below. “Any witnesses, besides the dog walker who found the woman?”

“No one else. Beach is officially closed this time of year. Sign on the chain strung at the opening warns people off.”

A thick chain dangled between two substantial metal posts at the head of the stairway, the sign stating the beach closure from October through May. A deterrent for most people, but anyone determined to access the beach could easily circumvent it.

She faced Ewing again. “Remember, no one other than the ME and her team enters the scene unless authorized by me.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Not even Sheriff Parks?”

“That won’t be a problem. She’s standing by in her office for a report.”

He nodded.

El slipped under the tape. Hand over her eyes to block the blowing sand, she quickly assessed the scene unfolding before her on a night when the moon had taken refuge behind thick clouds still threatening to drench the evidence.

One weak light mounted on the changing room wall illuminated the immediate area but left the remaining space dark and quiet.

Deputy Massey stood near an older man wrapped in an emergency blanket and seated on a concrete bench, a dog straining at the leash.

The witness.

Moonlight broke through the clouds. She’d check the victim first, document the scene, then talk to him.

She couldn’t miss a thing. Every detail mattered.

Footprints near the water. Drag marks. A phone. A half-empty water bottle. A child’s toy rocking in the ripples.

She crossed the sand. The lake reflected the moon in glints, deceptively peaceful as the water lapped against the shore. The wind carried the faint smell of algae and something sharper, metallic. Blood or mud, she couldn’t tell yet.

She knelt beside the woman and began snapping pictures.

Her camera flash revealed the victim’s pale skin, her forehead, an ugly purple bruise.

Weeds tangled in her soaked red hair. Clothes clinging like rags.

Wrists and ankles, raw and red, as if they’d been restrained.

Dark staining on the woman’s knit top, made lighter by her time in the water.

Blood. Help me find who did such an awful thing to this defenseless woman.

El narrowed her focus to the blood. No tear in the fabric or obvious wound, so where had the blood come from? Her killer?

El turned to the drag marks. One line, coming from the lake. Probably from the witness who’d rescued her. Not the person who’d put her in the water. Did they drop her from the dock or were they strong enough to carry her?

“What happened to you?” El said under her breath.

“Obviously she drowned,” Massey said behind her.

El turned slowly. “Did you look at her?”

He hesitated. “Our witness said he found her floating.”

El bit back the sharp reply rising to her tongue. “Come here.”

She angled her flashlight at the victim’s throat. Raised, reddish welts bloomed under the light. “Tell me what you see.”

Massey squatted beside her and went still. “Strangulation?”

“Likely.” El stood. “Checking for petechiae in her eyes would help confirm it, but we’re hands-off until the ME does her preliminary examination.”

Massey nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Right. Burst capillaries, red and purple dots in her eyes. Classic sign.”

“ME’s on her way. Hopefully she’ll check that out and find some ID.”

He scanned the shoreline. “Cell phone’s over there but no purse. Might’ve gone under.”

“As could the child. We need a dive team.” El shot another look at the empty car seat and nausea rolled through her. “Sheriff Ryder’s county is the closest one with divers. I’ll get Mina on the line and get them over here.”

“And what do you want me to do?”

“Bring some lights down here so you can photograph the entire scene then watch the trails. Make sure no one tries to access the scene and contaminate evidence.”

He glanced at the water as if he wanted to say something else. She followed his gaze. This was a real circus. One where she was the ringmaster and everything depended on her direction.