Chapter 42 Jake
The tires spun over gravel, spitting sharp pebbles out behind the car with a sound like falling rain as Jake sped up the hills of Lake Lumin Road.
“Come on, come on, come on,” he urged the cruiser, foot hard on the gas.
It had never taken so long to reach home, and the twisting fear in his gut told him he was running out of time.
Annie was smart. And fiery. And impulsive.
If she had managed to put it all together, she would confront Walt by herself, Jake had no doubt of that, and there was no telling how his father would respond.
Jake knew better than anyone else that Walt was stronger than he looked, ex-military, and if backed into a corner, he was capable of anything.
If Annie had figured it out, then she was in danger.
The Proudy house appeared on the left, the home of his childhood, serene and lovely where it sat in dappled sunlight beneath the pines, the place where his best and earliest memories had been formed.
It would not register. It would not sink in, and Jake had sense enough to know that he was probably in shock, but he would deal with the emotional fallout later. There was no time to think, only to act.
As he whipped the cruiser left into the driveway, he slammed the heel of his hand into the center of the steering wheel, blaring the horn until the front door opened.
His mother appeared, her face lined with confusion as she took in the sight of the police car, lights whirling as it skidded to a halt in front of the house.
Jake jammed the cruiser into park and threw open the door, stepping out with one foot on the ground.
“Where is he?” he shouted. “Where’s Dad?”
She pointed an arm up the road. “He went for a walk with Annie. I saw them heading that way about an hour ago. What’s wrong?”
Jake allowed himself one more breath before delivering the news no one should ever have to receive.
“He killed Jamie, Mom. Dad killed her.”
Laura’s face went blank as stone, completely expressionless, and with everything in him, Jake wanted to go to her, to wrap her in his arms and offer her the comfort that they both needed, but there was no time.
“Stay inside,” he shouted, pointing at the house. “Lock the doors and windows and don’t let Dad in if he comes back, no matter what he says, understand? I called Austin and he’s on the way with backup.”
Jake left her where she was, wide-eyed on the stoop, and tore out of the driveway.
The woods blurred past as the cruiser shot uphill toward the clearing, every passing second ratcheting up his urgency, and when the first NO TRESPASSING sign appeared, he reached for the loaded Glock waiting on the passenger seat and flipped off the safety.
Ahead through the trees, the lake waited, bathed in sunlight and sparkling blue, but Jake’s eyes were on the boathouse—on the flash of movement there on the dock.
The gate was rising up to meet him, but it was his father that Jake watched, his heart stuttering in his chest as Walt rolled Annie’s limp body over the edge of the boards and into the water.
Jake floored the gas and smashed through the gate. Free from its hinges, it flew end over end through the air.
Walt’s head whipped toward him, and Jake slammed on the brakes, watching in horror as his father kicked the heavy propane tank he had tied to Annie’s ankle over the edge of the dock and into the water, dragging her body down beneath the surface with it.
Jake jammed the cruiser into park, leapt out, and charged.
“Get down!” he shouted.
Walt turned and jumped easily off the dock, striding across the clearing with his eyes on his son.
“Put that gun away, Jake,” he called, lifting a hand in front of him.
“I said get down!”
Walt did not break stride, and a part of Jake seemed to float up and away, looking down with mild surprise as he aimed the gun and fired.
Walt jerked backward, spinning on his feet before he fell to the ground. A rosebud of blood blossomed at his shoulder, and he clawed at it as Jake sprinted past and threw himself into the water in a splashing dive.
The lake swallowed him whole, and for a moment, he could see nothing, only pale green water and translucent bubbles as he kicked downward, and downward again, in what he hoped was the right direction.
He was certain he had less than a minute to reach Annie before she drowned, but where was she? The shore fell off steeply behind the dock, a natural shelf, and the water around him grew dark as he descended, lungs already begging for breath.
Please, he prayed. Please!
In the corner of his eye, there was a glint of copper where a lance of sunlight caught floating hair, and Jake kicked toward it furiously.
Annie was floating beneath the water as though standing upright, her face serene as her hair swirled around it, eyes closed, lips parted, and Jake prayed with everything in him that she was just unconscious, not dead. Please, God, not dead.
The rope joining her to the sunken propane tank was knotted tightly around her ankle. Lungs burning, Jake swam down to untie it.
He tore at it with his fingers, but couldn’t loosen it fast enough.
The thin rope was triple knotted, and it slid beneath his fingers as every alarm bell in his head went off at the same time.
Second by second, he fought against the growing urge to kick to the surface for air as he struggled with the rope.
The first knot gave, and the second, and his body began to convulse.
Come on! he screamed inside his head.
The third knot slipped beneath his fingers, his vision darkening at the edges.
No!
And then he had it, Annie was free, and he kicked upward with what little strength he had left, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist and dragging her with him as he moved toward the light.
For a desperate moment, it seemed he would never breach the surface, and then air broke against his face at last and he took a great, heaving gasp of it as he swam toward the shore, encumbered by the weight of the woman in his arms.
He dragged her up onto the dirt, still gasping, and spared his father a half-second glance to find that Walt had lost consciousness. The sleeve of his shirt was soaked through with blood, but Jake had seen worse. He’d live.
Quickly, Jake tilted Annie’s head back and covered her mouth with his, giving her the breath in his lungs, once, twice. He placed the heels of his hands on her sternum and pushed hard, counting thirty compressions.
“Come on, Annie,” he rasped. “Breathe… Breathe!”
He pinched her nose and blew into her mouth twice more, but she stayed motionless, utterly still.
“Come on!” Tears blurred his vision as he jammed the heels of his hands into her sternum and pumped over and over. “Come on, Annie!”
Water, cold and violent, shot out of her mouth and into his face as she coughed. Her eyes flew open, locking on his with raw terror, and Jake gathered her into his arms.
“You’re okay,” he said into her wet hair. “You’re okay now.”
Annie sagged in his arms, losing consciousness again, but her chest was rising and falling without his help. She was breathing on her own, and a sound Jake had not made since he was a boy escaped his lips.
In the distance, he heard it, faint but growing—a song on the wind. The high and mournful wail of sirens.
Jake blew out a breath of relief, leaning forward until his forehead rested against hers.
“Thank God,” he breathed.