by L. T. Vargus
And the glitter from the lake flickered over her. Blinding light that twitched and shook, constantly moving, making her squint.
Cold adrenaline surged through her. Numbed her hands.
But she remembered to steer into the skid. To go with the swerve and regain control.
She drifted all the way to one side of the road and then the other, leaving black streaks behind her.
The Focus fought back, the wheel forcing her to overpower it with sheer muscle, but she got it under control once more.
“Jesus, that was close,” Allie breathed.
The sports car raced forward again. Closer and closer.
Charlie jammed on the accelerator. Needed to outrun it or at least try.
The red car kept gaining, though. Drawing up on her.
Charlie strained to see the face behind the steering wheel in the rearview mirror, but there was a murk to the glass. A darkness. She could only make out the outline of shoulders hunched over the steering wheel.
The sports car veered for her again. Charlie managed to evade it, swerving and accelerating out of danger.
The next time the fenders collided, she wasn’t so lucky. Metal crunched, and the back of the car went weightless.
The world spun again. Faster this time. It felt like the wheels were lifting off. Betraying gravity. Leaving the road.
She plummeted over the edge of the cliff. Falling.
The shimmering top of the lake became a never-ending wall hurtling toward her.
The front end of the car hit the surface with a crack.
The impact snapped her neck forward, smothering her face first in the inflating airbag.
Something popped and went hot at the top of her spine. Pain flashed bright white inside her head.
All of reality seemed to suck away from her then. Muted. Distant.
Unconsciousness lurched up to swallow her. A spiraling darkness in her skull.
But she fought against it. Dragged her eyelids slowly open. Lifted her head.
She watched the world outside the car as though it were a movie projected on a screen. Quiet and far away. Everything a little blurry, shifting into that soft focus.
The displaced water heaved away from the hood, rolling outward, a receding bulge.
The vehicle drifted. Started to sink. Angled so the front end pointed straight down.
Charlie’s eyelids drooped again. The darkness closing in, pressing on her. She fought it. Strained to open her eyes again. Even managed to pull her chin back up from her chest for a moment.
But then the wet rushed back to surround the sedan. Enveloping it. Pouring over the hood. Spilling up onto the tilted windshield.
Charlie lost consciousness just as the car broke through to the dark water below.
FIFTY-FIVE
Water babbled in Charlie’s consciousness. Dripping. Gushing.
She opened her eyes. Confused. Blinking.
Her head throbbed as soon as the light hit, and she closed her eyes again. Brought a hand up, cold fingers brushing at her temple.
It felt like she’d been bludgeoned. The hurt beat along with her blood. The headache jabbing a box cutter into her skull behind her left eyeball—thrumming tendrils of pain outward from the epicenter.
She peeled open her eyelids a second time.
She was in a car. Did that make sense?
She blinked again. Squinted as though it might help her concentrate, might help her understand her surroundings.
Blood.
That was the first thing she saw. Blood smeared on the pillow before her. But it wasn’t a pillow. It was an airbag. Deflating now.
More blood trickled from her nose. Splattering into a pool of red on the wilting airbag.
She smeared her fingers across her nostrils.
The sound of running water seemed to grow louder. Stole her attention away.
The car leaned. Drifted in the water. Slowly submerging into the lake. It felt like it was floating, but it was sinking in slow motion.
The memory flashed in her head. The moment her car had struck that glittering surface. The wet rolling away and coming back.
Water lapped up onto the hood to touch the windshield. Soon it pressed at every window.
It was sinking faster now. The car tipping forward.
A spray of water came in through the cracked passenger-side window. Pattered onto the seat next to her. Puddled on the upholstery, turning it darker in a semicircle.
The pressure made the glass creak against itself. Sharp noises in time with the lapping of the water. Brittle and gritty. Glass scraping glass.
More cracks appeared all at once in a misshapen spiderweb, as though something solid had hit the window. Faint hairlines fanned out from the original crack.
Then the glass burst inward. Water spewed in. A steady flow laced with shards that just kept coming.
The surging wetness flopped onto Charlie’s lap. The cold of it so shocking she gasped as it tumbled over her legs to the floor.
Gallons and gallons and gallons. Endless wet ripping into the car.
Charlie fumbled to release her seatbelt. Jabbing two fingers into the button until the belt zipped past her. Retracting.
Her fingers found the door handle. Pushed.
The door didn’t budge.
She bashed her shoulder into it, but there was too much water. Too much pressure.
She needed another way out.
She swiveled in her seat, water splashing up from her lap with her movement. Her eyes snapped to the broken passenger window where the water rushed in.
A few shards of glass still jutted there, a jagged row of teeth.
She leaned back. Kicked through the gushing water to try to clear out more of the glass, widen the opening.
She cleared away the pointed bits piece by piece. Felt them snap away, cleaved like peanut brittle at the hammering of her heels.
The cold seeped into her flesh as she worked. The water’s icy grip tightened around her.
And her skin contracted little by little until it felt too tight for her body.
She needed to get out now, before the numbness became total, made swimming to shore impossible.
She sat up. Lurched over the center console. Took a deep breath. And threw herself into the opening.
She crawled into the place where the window should be. Gripped the frame and pulled herself toward the empty air between them.
The small nubs of remaining glass dug into her palms, fingers, the heels of her hands, breaking the skin, shredding her.
Water surged against her chest. Sloshed up onto her neck and chin. Tried to push her back.
The cold shuddered through her. Thrummed fresh tremors in her muscles. The numbness bloomed in her limbs first, spreading quickly to her core.
She fought through the current, shaky arms easing her forward. Her head poked out of the sinking car. Into the open. Into the light.
And her legs kicked behind her. Pushed off the seat and center console the best they could. Thrashed at the surface of the water overtaking the car.
Her shoulders, too, exited through the broken window. Almost there. Almost free.
The car tilted away from her as the water tugged it harder. Gulping noises vented from somewhere in the submerged part of the front end. Slurping. Sucking. Bubbles bursting to the surface all around her.
The car was going down fast now, and it wanted to take her with it.
The sinking ceiling slammed into her back. Bumped her hard enough to break her grip.
She fumbled to regain her grasp on the door. Numb fingers scrabbling over upholstery, over metal, over glass, over the rubber trim. She couldn’t get a hold of anything.
Her head dipped under the surface as the car plunged into the depths. Water stung her eyes.
The deep wanted her. Its suction drawing her downward, taking her, absorbing her into its cold and dark.
The top of the window frame pressed harder into her back, slicing at her, cold metal ca
tching just under the shoulder blades.
Her arms shook, the sensation draining from her fingers. Sucked out by the cold.
She couldn’t hold her breath much longer.
Her feet flailed at the churning water. She kicked harder, sought something solid to push herself off of, but she found only the empty wet.
She fought to get her shoulders upright. Angled her legs downward. One of those beating legs caught something solid. She pushed off.
That propelled her into the breach, jolted her rump past the threshold of the window opening, and then the car was behind her. Under her. A sinking thing growing blurry as the water took it.
She swam for the shore.
FIFTY-SIX
Charlie’s clothes dragged as she swam, and the shoes on her feet made her kicking feel pointless. It was a short swim, but her fingers and toes were completely numb by the time she finally felt the sole of her shoe kick against the sandy bottom. With hands like claws, Charlie dragged herself up on the beach and lay on her back.
She sucked in deep lungfuls of air, held them each for a fraction of a second before she let them out. Anything to slow her breathing, make the world around her stop spinning.
Her mind reeled. Shock not quite letting the reality of the situation sink in.
Someone had just tried to kill her.
Why? What for? How could any of this be real?
The questions only made panic well in her again, so she pushed them away. Focused on her breathing.
She stared at the sky, at the clouds scudding off toward the east. The wooziness died back, the world steadying around her.
She listened for cars out on the road above. Heard none. Just the breeze pushing off the water, scraping over the asphalt, whistling a little where it touched the rock face of the cliff between her and the road.
She pictured the red sports car again. Its sleek body was angular in places, rugged and thin in a way that reminded her of a praying mantis or an Apache helicopter. It was a model she didn’t recognize, which was uncommon. Even with Salem Island being as small as it was, the tourist trade brought all manner of vehicles around. Every luxury brand was represented on a regular basis, especially on the sporty side. Fleets of Lexuses, BMWs, Mercedes, and their ilk rolled through the strip. She saw Jaguars almost daily in the summer months.
Whatever make and model the car was, it was something exceedingly rare around here. Foreign. Probably expensive. She couldn’t be certain, but it was likely the same one that had killed Gloria. The color was right, the size, the speed, the growl of the engine.
She rolled onto her stomach to crawl further onto the shore. She passed the line where the sand gave way to the rockier stuff, which was drier, and then she lay back down. The sharp edges of the stony land jabbed into her lower back, but the prospect of drying off even a little made it seem worth it.
Slowly the feeling crept back into her body, each part of her coming to life one by one.
Again, she felt how taut her skin had become, all of it rumpled into goosebumps, pulled tight over her. And her body struck her as so strange just then. A weird skin sack housing these organs, and somehow that was who she was. What made her real. It seemed impossible.
The clouds kept racing past overhead. Unperturbed. Totally unaware of the crash, of the girl shivering on the edge of the water.
The image of the laptop flared in her head, that black mystery box resting on the passenger seat. The evidence. She’d lost it.
She sat up and looked out over the water, as though she expected the car to have bobbed to the surface at her convenience. But the choppy blue lake waved back empty-handed.
She needed to call Zoe. Maybe law enforcement could still salvage the hard drive. It seemed like a long shot, but she didn’t know.
Her fingers wriggled into her pocket. Pulled her phone free.
It was dead, of course. Water-logged. Fat beads of condensation glared out from behind the blank screen.
“Well, that’s a kick in the beanbag,” Allie said.
Charlie closed her eyes. Gritted her teeth. Listened to her heart knocking against her chest, the angry backbeat to her frustration.
She took a breath. Held it for several heartbeats before she let it out.
Then she picked herself up off the ground. The cool breeze pushed her wet clothes snug against her body, and the renewed chill sent another shudder through her.
She’d have to walk to one of the houses down the road. Ask to use the phone. Maybe get a towel, if she was lucky.
She started her way up the rocky bank, shivering all the while.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Dusk was descending by the time the police diving team arrived. Charlie watched them suit up as the sun set over the lake, staining the surface orange. Police lights twirled around her, adding splashes of red and blue to the puddling sunset.
Charlie glanced over her shoulder at the cop cars parked at angles up on the edge of the cliff above. It looked like they had all parked as dramatically as possible, jackknifing into place, which Charlie found funny. Maybe it made sense.
Even before all of this, the Dutch and Gloria Carmichael cases had to be the most excitement local law enforcement had had in months. Throw in the prospect of a car getting purposefully run off the road? Attempted murder? Precious evidence trapped at the bottom of the lake, possibly destroyed?
“It’s a small-town cop cream dream, so hold nothing back,” Allie said. “Roll up on the scene with the lights flashing and the siren blaring. Park like a maniac. Treat yourself.”
Charlie huddled on the small scrap of beach, a blanket from the ambulance draped over her shoulders. She squeezed the thick fabric together at the front of her neck, clasping it there like a shawl.
She was still wet, and her legs were cold as hell. Wet denim clung to the backs of her knees, pressing its chill into her every time the wind blew.
Many sets of feet crunched over the rocky part of the shore and down into the sand. Some moved all the way to the mesh point where the waves lapped up onto the shore. Probably most of the Salem Island sheriff’s department was swarming the narrow beach right now, anxious to be part of the action.
All eyes locked on the divers as they waded into the shallows and swam out to where the car had gone down. They treaded water there for a moment, and then they disappeared beneath the surface, one and then the other.
Everyone on the beach fell quiet. Waiting. Watching.
Charlie swallowed. Nervous. Her throat suddenly felt dry, slightly sticky.
A few minutes later the divers bobbed up to the surface, and each one gave a thumbs up to the men standing next to the machinery on the shore.
There was a bit of hollering near the tow truck, and then the winch started up with a metallic groan. Spools wound. The cable slowly pulled taut and then started reeling in Charlie’s car.
The surface of the lake shifted. Disturbed circles rippled outward from where the cables entered the water. Bubbles roiled in the center of them.
After several seconds, the rear bumper appeared. It sloshed up and out, the trunk and rear tires following its lead into the open.
The back half of the car lifted out of the murky water at an angle. Runnels of water sluiced down everywhere, little streaks following after the bigger rivulets.
The coils kept winding, and the car glided the rest of the way out of the murk, moving toward the shore. A bulge of water surged along with the vehicle, a wave created by the displacing of the large object.
When the car reached the shore, four of the uniformed officers swarmed the vehicle. Charlie focused on one of them as he moved to the passenger-side door, realizing only after that it was the burly officer that she’d been standing next to moments ago. He reached out, his gloved hand squeaking on the wet door handle. Then he ripped it open and jumped back.
Water spilled out of the door. Everything below window level held water, the cabin of the car absolutely full, though that was changing rapidly before her eyes. Da
rk lake water gushed out and slapped at the sand and pebbles below, somehow smooth and violent at the same time.
As the water drained, Charlie spotted the laptop. It’d gotten knocked around some, the jostling of the crash wedging it between the seat and center console, one side of the black box jutting up from the gap there.
Charlie sucked her teeth at the sight of it. The slightest twinge of nausea wormed in her gut. Some bodily instinct told her, rather forcefully, that Dutch’s laptop was beyond salvation, but she knew she shouldn’t think that. Between law enforcement and Mason, maybe they could still figure something out. In any case, they had more information to go on now, a place to keep looking. Emails could be subpoenaed, after all. And it couldn’t be easy to conceal a billion-dollar lie once people knew what to look for.
Gravel crunched somewhere behind Charlie, footsteps crossing the beach and drawing up on her. She turned to find Zoe striding over, thumbs looped in her belt, a faint smile on her face.
She handed Charlie a pile of dry clothes.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?” Zoe asked for probably the tenth time. “You’ve gotta be freezing your ass off.”
“I told you, I’m OK. Thanks for the clothes, though. Changing into something dry will make it that much better. Anyway, this is more excitement than I usually get on a Saturday night. I don’t want to miss out.” Mentioning what day it was suddenly jarred something loose in Charlie’s memory. “Hey… wasn’t today the day you were meeting your sister?”
“That’s correct. Your call interrupted dessert.”
“Oh crap,” Charlie said. “I’m sorry, Zoe.”
Zoe waved her away.
“Don’t worry about it. If anything, I think Rebecca was kind of impressed. Now she can go back home and tell all her friends what a hero her little sister is.” Zoe pulled her phone from her pocket and swiped at the screen. “Check this out, though. We took our first selfie together.”
Charlie took the phone Zoe held out to her and studied the photo.
“Oh my God. She looks exactly like you,” Charlie said. “Same smile. Same nose. Same freckles.”
Zoe beamed.