The Lake

SEVENTY-THREE

“He’s got her, Sheena. I heard a crash, went to investigate, and she’d gone. It could only be Mace. Do you see anything out there?”

Sheena, mobile pressed to her ear, listened intently.

“I’m approaching the lake now, Mattie… Can’t see anything this end…” Her voice was hurried, breathy, as she jogged over uneven scrub and pebbles.

Drawing to a halt, she scanned the water. “There’s a guy in a rowboat. Dark hair, plaid shirt… Stroking like hell… He’s looking over his shoulder…”

She paused, then said quickly, “Mattie. It’s Mace. Travelin’ south. Heading for the pines out there.”

“You sure about that?”

“Sure as I’ll ever be. The guy’s in an awful hurry. Hey, didn’t Charlie have a hideout around here—like the place he died in? And yeah. There’s something in the boat, Mattie. Like a pile of clothing or…”

“Sheena, keep an eye on that boat. I’ll pull rank, requisition a launch. Rowboat. Inflatable. Whatever.”

Sheena kicked off her sneakers and waded into the lake till she was breast deep. Then, lifting her arms, she struck out after the rowboat.