Chapter 35 Daniel
It was the second time he’d woken to the sound of a woman in his lake, and for the second time, Daniel stepped outside and was startled by whom he found in the water.
He waited on the dock, his bare arms brushed by the cool night breeze as Annie angled the canoe in his direction and paddled forward.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was doing here, but why hadn’t she woken him first?
Asked for his help, or at least his permission, to hunt around for clues in the dark?
Stroke by stroke, she drew nearer, until at last she veered the vessel away from the dock and toward the gently sloped northern shore.
Daniel almost raised a hand, almost called out to her, but something stopped him short. It was the stiffness of her body as she paddled. The way she was avoiding looking at him where he stood on the dock. The way she wasn’t calling out to him first. It was all wrong.
The canoe drew near to the shore and Daniel walked to the edge of the dock, jumping down as she brought it up onto the bank.
“Here, let me.” He reached for the bow.
“I’ve got it,” Annie snapped, and Daniel took a step back, tensing at her tone.
She still wasn’t looking at him and said nothing else as she clambered out of the canoe, splashed around to the back of the log, and shoved it forward, straining against the weight.
Though it pulled against every one of his natural instincts, Daniel stood back at a distance and didn’t offer his help again.
It took Annie several minutes to beach the canoe, minutes during which she did not meet his eyes, but when it was properly aground and rolled over to drain, she blew out a long breath, looking up at him as drops of water fell from her sleeves and hair and the hem of her shirt.
Daniel shook his head. “Seriously, Annie, what were you thinking? You could have drowned taking the canoe out by yourself. I was right here, right inside the boathouse, why didn’t you wake me up? I could have gone with you. Helped you find whatever it was you were looking for.”
Annie stood silent as a statue while the lake lapped at her heels.
“Well?” he asked.
“I… needed to do this on my own.”
Daniel waited, but apparently it was all she had to say.
“That’s it?” he said, incredulous.
Daniel searched the eyes that had once looked into his with something close to love, but were now guarded and unreadable.
A night wind brushed the surface of the lake and met them onshore, and Annie’s hands flew to her arms. Even in the dark, he saw the trembling in her lower lip. She must be freezing.
“Come on.” He turned for the boathouse. “You can’t stay in those clothes.”
“Wait,” she called out behind him, and he stopped, turning back.
“Let’s build a fire.” She nodded toward the dark ring of stones on the ground. “I can hang my clothes on one of the chairs to dry.”
Daniel hesitated. She was watching him strangely, her face full of an anxious anticipation that didn’t match her words, and he had the distinct feeling that he was being tested, that whatever he said in response would be carefully weighed in the balance.
Slowly, he nodded once. “Okay. Let’s build a fire.”
She returned his nod, but her eyes did not clear as she said, “I’ll grab a few logs. You go get your lighter.”
Daniel half turned back toward the boathouse, his gaze lingering on hers for a moment. “Okay. You can wear something of mine in the meantime.”
Annie followed him inside, choosing clothes from his dresser and shutting herself in the bedroom to change while Daniel waited in the living room. When she emerged wearing his white T-shirt and boxer shorts, he stood from his seat on the couch, throat bobbing.
She looked angelic, straight out of a dream, and he couldn’t fight the surge of desire that flooded him at the sight of her wearing his clothes—hair loose and flowing over her shoulders like something from the Sistine Chapel. With effort, Daniel kept his eyes on hers.
“Are you going to tell me what you were looking for out there? Risking your neck in the dark.”
Annie held out the wet pile of clothes in her hands. “Let’s start that fire. Then we can talk.”
Daniel nodded and walked past her to the kitchen, where he pulled open the drawer beside the sink and grabbed the box of matches that lay inside.
“Let’s go.”
He walked to the door and pushed it open, but Annie did not follow him.
“Daniel…”
She had never said his name like that before, and it stopped him cold. Daniel turned to look at her, but Annie was staring at the box of matches in his hand like it was something venomous.
“Where’s your lighter?” she asked, her face oddly drawn. “Where’s the little orange lighter I’ve seen you use to start fires every time I’ve been up here?”
Daniel blinked at her in confusion as he held the box of matches in one hand and the open door with the other.
“What are you talking about?”
“Where is it?” she said, voice rising. “Where, Daniel?”
Something strange happened as he stared at her, something otherworldly.
For a split second, bright light filled the living room like a silent streak of lightning, illuminating Annie where she stood, staring at him like he was holding a smoking gun instead of a box of matches—and then it was gone, and a horrible realization crashed over him like an ocean wave.
Headlights. Someone’s headlights had just swept across the clearing.
This was it, and he hadn’t even heard it coming.
Daniel whipped his head toward the open door and stared into the two bright lights of the vehicle that had just pulled up behind the gate, high beams, blindingly white, that stayed on as the driver stepped out and slammed the door.
A dark figure climbed over the gate and came striding across the clearing with quick steps.
“Jake,” Annie breathed behind him as the figure drew near, and Daniel shifted where he stood, closing the door halfway with some instinctive surge of protectiveness, blocking the view into the boathouse as Jake approached.
The shoulders Daniel had seen strain under the weight of a fish on the line were straight and squared now, the body of the only man in town he had ever called friend rigid with purpose as he marched straight to where Daniel stood in the doorway, the pair of handcuffs he held jangling with every step.
“Little late for fishing,” Daniel said, his voice low and humorless.
Jake came to a stop before him. “You know why I’m here.”
Daniel said nothing and Jake met his eyes steadily, the white light framing him like an eclipse.
“I don’t want to do this, brother, but it’s my duty.”
For a moment, Daniel did not move, and then, slowly, he dropped the box of matches and lifted his hands, presenting his bare wrists.
Jake slipped the cuffs on, the cold metal biting at Daniel’s skin, and slid them closed until they clicked into their locks. When they were secured, he gave each a stiff tug for good measure, and a hot surge of anger flooded Daniel.
He’d sworn he wouldn’t let it get the better of him, but it was rising, lifting its horned head and sniffing at the injustice in the air.
Jake cleared his throat. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Jamie Boyd. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you—”
“Anything I say can and will be used against me in a court of law,” Daniel snapped, cutting him off. “It’s me, Jake. Talk to me like a human being. Talk to me like the man you’ve known for five years.”
A tense moment passed between the two men, a flicker of something barely checked in each of their eyes, and then Jake said, “If I had any other choice, I’d take it, brother. My hand to God.”
All of the outrage Daniel hadn’t let himself feel, all of the resentment and anger he’d shoved deep down somewhere beneath his heart broke over him now in one terrible wave, and his fury outgrew him as he glowered at the man who had come bearing a warrant for his arrest.
“Don’t.” His voice was hard as iron behind gritted teeth. “For once in your life, Jake, don’t. God has nothing to do with this.”
Jake leaned in until their noses were an inch apart. “There’s an easy way to do this and a hard way. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t use force if I have to. I swear to you I will.”
There was a click at his waist, and Daniel looked down, eyes narrowing at the firearm Jake had silently removed from his holster.
Slowly, he looked into Jake’s face again.
“Why don’t you ask me outright if I murdered Jamie,” he said, voice deadly calm. “Go on, ask. Would it kill you to have a conversation without handcuffs or guns, or are you that afraid of what might happen without them?”
Jake’s entire body stiffened, and anger the likes of which Daniel had never seen in his friend’s eyes burned there now.
“Ask?” Jake shot back. “And then what, you’ll tell me the truth? Just like you’ve been telling me the truth all these years, Nico?”
The name was a slap across the face—swift and painful—and Daniel made a decision he knew was wrong, shifting where he stood, moving his foot to nudge the door open wide and give Jake a clear look at what was inside.
Jake’s gaze slid past him and caught Annie where she stood in the living room, wearing Daniel’s underwear and T-shirt. A brief flicker of confusion crossed his face, then something like distress. Behind Daniel the floor creaked as Annie took a step forward.
“Jake…” she said quietly, “I can explain.”
But Jake’s face had hardened, and he turned away, his blue eyes burning as they found Daniel’s again.
“Since you already know your rights, it’s time to go.”
Without waiting for a response, Jake closed his fingers around Daniel’s wrist and yanked him out of the doorway, pushing him into the clearing, where he wedged the cold barrel of the gun between his shoulder blades.
Daniel stumbled forward, feet scuffing on the gravel.
He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t prepared to say his farewell to this place, but farewell was upon him now.
This was the last time he would see his home.
The last time he would ever be beside the lake or hear the wind in the pines, but when he turned to look back over his shoulder, there was only one thing he latched on to.
As Jake led him away to meet his fate, Daniel held fast to the sight of the woman standing in the doorway.