She bailed.
She rowed.
And she was coming out on the losing side of the equation.
Dani was a stickler about water safety. Her grandfather had refused to let her step foot in a boat the first time without hands-on safety lessons. Every time they went out together—every time—he insisted they visually inspect the boat and all its gear. Dani had done this yesterday and again this morning, and she’d seen nothing that alarmed her, nothing to suggest the boat wasn’t watertight.
The water climbed above her ankles. Dani could see the widening hole now, as if it had been drilled and a plug was easing out. Dani released the oars to bail furiously. The pail filled as quickly as she dipped it into the bottom of the boat. Water was coming in faster.
As the rate of drift increased, Dani stared into the darkness once again to hang on to her bearings. Under the lapping sounds of the lake, Dani also heard the rush of moving water. The boat was headed toward the falls. Dani dropped the pail, ignoring the splash it created inside the boat, and reached into the storage space under the bench for a life jacket. She’d had to prove she could swim a quarter of a mile before her grandfather would even let her get in a boat without wearing a life jacket. Dani hadn’t used one in years, at least a decade, but this wasn’t the time to debate the necessity. She slipped her arms through the openings, pulled the straps together, and double-checked to be sure they latched completely.
Then she gripped the sides of the rowboat and sat as still as she could to judge the shifting sounds and sensations. Dani could neither bail nor row fast enough to avoid the impending catastrophe. Either the boat would sink or it would go over the falls.
The falls were not huge, but they were craggy. The boat would never withstand being lifted into the air for a terrifying moment before slamming against the rocks and dropping into the spot where the river that fed the lake continued its course. It wouldn’t matter that the river didn’t amount to much in that place. The fall, rather than the landing, would destroy the boat.
Dani didn’t intend to be in the boat when that happened, but if she didn’t get out soon the current would carry her toward the falls, boat or no boat. She fumbled for her water bottle and guzzled its contents.
Then she stood in the boat and, with water halfway up to her knees, kicked off her shoes before diving over the side.
She swam hard toward the only spot on the lake’s shore where she could still see lights, not daring to stop and tread water lest she forfeit even a foot of the progress she made.
Breathe. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke.
Only when the tug of the water subsided did Dani pause to assess her bearings, and only for two or three seconds at a time.
Breathe. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke.
The light on the shore brightened and enlarged steadily until Dani believed she was close enough to feel for the bottom of the lake with her feet. She stood and turned toward the place where she had left her boat, not knowing whether it had yet tumbled over the falls but certain of its destiny. Rapidly exchanging air in her lungs, Dani half walked and half swam to the edge of the water. She was a long way from her cabin, but at least she was on solid ground and no longer feared becoming disoriented about which direction to go.
Somebody had tampered with her boat. The hole that grew into this disastrous hazard was deliberate—and recent.
Sopping wet, Dani pulled herself upright and began the rugged walk back to her cabin. Her chest still heaved as she twisted her shirttail to wring it out. The night was bottomless by the time Dani, shivering, rounded the final curve and saw the cabin.
Something moved in the woods beyond her.
“Who’s there?”
Silence.
“Answer me!”
The ripple through the trees betrayed movement.
Dani filled her lungs. “I will find you!”
5
The Mayor’s Quandary
Tuesday
7:06 a.m.
Dani Roose turned over in bed, shoving against the weight of four quilts. The fire in the cabin had gone cold during the night, sometime after Dani’s teeth stopped clacking and she let go of her exhausted fury long enough to sleep a few hours. Behind her closed eyes now, she saw the rising water in the bottom of her boat and the shape of the hole that permitted its entry.
Her boat.
It was only a rowboat, but Dani had spent months of her spare time restoring it, and she couldn’t afford to replace it.
Not to mention her rage that someone had endangered her life.
Dani gripped all four quilts in her left fist and threw them off in one harsh gesture. The lake-drenched clothes she had peeled off last night still hung damp over a rack in front of the fireplace, but she had other jeans and sweaters in the battered armoire her grandmother had stored at the cabin four decades ago. She flung the fleece pants and sweatshirt she slept in onto the rumpled bed and yanked on fresh clothes. Not bothering with a brush, she moved through the movements of daily habit and rapidly braided her waist-length, silky black hair.
In less than nine minutes, Dani was in her Jeep and gunning the motor. Ethan Jordan never liked his parents much even in high school, so Dani’s hunch told her he’d checked into the old motel across the lake. He and Nicole Sandquist were poking around the lake Sunday afternoon, and Ethan was back on Monday afternoon, just yesterday. Chances were he hadn’t left town yet. Dani should have thought of it last night. The motel was no farther than her cabin was from the spot where she swam ashore, just in the opposite direction. She accelerated along the low bridge at the top of the falls and whizzed past the parking lot where tourists left their cars while they explored that end of the lake.
Dani leaned into the lobby door at the motel, rousing the overnight clerk from the chair where he had nodded off to the drone of a television behind the desk.
“Which room is Ethan Jordan registered in?”
The clerk, a gangly young man, unfolded himself from his chair. “The owner doesn’t like me to give out that kind of information.”
“So he is registered here.”
“Didn’t say that.”
“Fine. Then call his room, please.”
The clerk clicked a few keys on the computer. “No can do.”
“You don’t know how to use a phone?”
“Dr. Jordan has a DO NOT DISTURB until nine o’clock.” He laughed. “Must have had some night.”
“Whatever. Go back to sleep.”
Dani didn’t need his help. It wasn’t rocket science to look for a car with Ohio plates that seemed like a surgeon would drive. It was a one-story motel. Paying guests parked right outside their rooms. She strolled the parking lot across the front of the building, down one side, and around a back corner.
There it was. A black Lexus with Ohio plates.
Dani pounded on the door. She didn’t hear a voice calling out within a few seconds, so she pounded again. This time shuffling answered her call. Someone—Ethan, presumably—knocked against a piece of furniture, and after about half a minute, he opened the door.
“I need to see your pictures,” Dani said, “the ones you’ve been taking the last couple of days.”
Shirtless and wearing plaid flannel lounge pants, Ethan rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through unkempt hair. He really had still been asleep.
“What are you doing here?” He stood with one arm on each side of the door frame, oozing irritation. “I told the front desk I didn’t want to be disturbed.”
Dani ducked under one arm and pushed past him. “Where’s the camera?”
Ethan grabbed her arm. “You can’t just barge in here and go through my stuff.”
She shook him off. “Fine. Whatever. But I need to see those pictures. Somebody vandalized my boat. I nearly went over the falls, and you might have a picture of the perp.”
“The ‘perp’?”
“What, you think I don’t watch crime shows?”
“I’ll tell you
what,” Ethan said. “There’s a diner just down the road. Wait for me there.”
“How do I know you’re not blowing me off so you can go back to bed?”
“You don’t. I recommend the skillet omelets.”
“I know all about their skillet omelets.” Dani pivoted toward the door. “Bring a laptop, too.”
She didn’t believe anybody traveled without at least a decent tablet, but Ethan Jordan thought himself a photographer. He’d have a laptop, and it wouldn’t be a dinky thirteen-inch screen, either.
Once she was back in her Jeep parked outside the lobby entrance, Dani drove around the building to be sure she saw light through the drapes of Ethan’s room. She’d drag him out of bed a hundred times if that’s what it took to make him understand she meant business.
The diner was nearly deserted, which didn’t surprise Dani at seven thirty on a Tuesday morning. She preferred to make her own omelets over a fire at the cabin, but occasionally she went down the road when she wanted to fill a thermos with coffee to take out in the boat or down a trail.
Quinn hated the diner’s coffee, but Dani’s standard response to his objection was for him to bring his own. He scowled at her every time, but it stopped his protesting.
Dani judged Ethan to be a meat eater and ordered him a skillet omelet with extra ham, onions, and green peppers with hash browns on the side. Waiting for him to read the menu would only waste time. She was halfway through the first pot of coffee when Ethan showed up, showered and shaved.
Dani turned his mug open side up and poured. “Took your sweet time.”
“Look,” Ethan said, “I’m sorry about your boat, but I didn’t mess with it, so back off.”
“Let’s just look at the pictures.”
“I’ve taken close to three hundred,” he said. “Mostly landscapes. It’s absurd to think you’ll see anything.”
“Is that what you tell your patients when you scan their brains? That it’s not worth looking?”
Ethan set his camera on the table. “I haven’t even imported them yet.”
Dani rolled her eyes. “That’s why I told you to bring the laptop.”
“Can I order breakfast first?”
“Done. You took so long you’re lucky it’s not already cold.”
“Look, Danielle—”
“Dani.”
“Look, Dani, I’m here. I brought my camera and computer. Clearly I’m going to cooperate, so put on your party face.”
“Just hook things up.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “I want to see every single frame.”
Their skillets arrived. Impatient with Ethan’s pace and detailed interest in his breakfast, Dani swiveled the computer toward her and picked up his camera. She’d accurately assessed the age and models of the devices and correctly concluded that connecting them would require a cord—and now wasted no time finding the ports and spurring communication.
“Hey,” Ethan said as he took a bite, “don’t snoop around on my hard drive.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Dani deadpanned. She already had the photos importing from camera to computer and took advantage of the slow processing speed of his laptop to stab her omelet and tear off a piece of a biscuit. Did he have any idea how behind the times his technology was? For the sake of his patients, she hoped he didn’t practice medicine this far back into the dark ages.
“If you want to update your computer, I can give you some tips,” she said.
“I thought you did odd jobs.” Ethan slurped his coffee.
“Nothing odder than thinking like a computer.”
“Computers are supposed to think like people.”
“If you only had a Mac,” Dani said. “At least you have decent photo software.”
Ethan glared at her. “What exactly are you looking for?”
“I’ll know it when I see it.” Dani clicked through several dozen photos before pausing to capture a small section of an image and enlarge it. She leaned toward the screen to study the result.
“What?” Ethan said. “Why are you stopping?”
“There’s a person. A man.” Dani turned the laptop toward Ethan. “Do you recognize this guy?”
Ethan looked carefully enough to persuade Dani he was at least trying to be helpful. Somebody trained to read X-rays and scans ought to be able to see what she saw.
“No,” he said. “Should I? You can hardly tell it’s a person. It’s just a shape in the trees.”
He probably said that about tumors. “It’s a person, all right.”
“You think it might be the person who wrecked your boat?” Ethan scooped hash browns into his mouth. “What if it’s somebody who had something to do with Quinn’s disappearance?”
“You all need to relax and give Quinn some space.” She was getting tired of stating the obvious. These people were like a brick wall. Dani clicked the next photo, another shot of the same scene. “He does sort of look like the guy who visits Quinn.”
Ethan dropped his fork. “A guy visits Quinn?”
Dani shrugged. “About once a year, usually in the late fall. They meet out on the lake and pretend to fish, but they never come back with anything.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Don’t know. It’s been the same dude for about fifteen years. Before that I was too young to notice.”
“What does Quinn say when you ask him about it?”
“Why would I ask him? It’s not my business. If he wants to borrow my boat, I trust him.”
“Dani,” Ethan said, “this could mean something. Who is this guy?”
“I told you, I don’t know.” She enlarged another segment of a photo. “Besides, I don’t think this is Quinn’s friend after all. He’s not old enough.”
Dani opened up her own Dropbox account and moved copies of twenty photos to it. She would enhance them later. This might not be Quinn’s friend, but it could be her vandal. She needed a better look at his face.
9:16 a.m.
Sylvia Alexander wished she had dropped a charging cord for her cell phone into her purse that morning. She had a feeling she was going to need it. The phone, sitting squarely in its holder affixed to the dash in her car, rang and she reached to push ANSWER and SPEAKER.
“Good morning, Marianne,” she said.
“I wish it were a good morning, Mayor,” her assistant at Town Hall responded. “I’m just calling to give you a heads-up that things are already crazy around here.”
Sylvia thought she’d done a reasonable job calming everyone the day before. Yes, Quinn was still missing, and yes, her shop had been vandalized, but the sheriff’s department was on top of both situations.
“We need to continue to communicate our confidence that the proper authorities will lead the search for Quinn and my store will be open again soon.”
“No, Mayor, it’s not that. Something else happened.”
Sylvia pulled out of her subdivision and onto the highway. “I didn’t get a call about anything else.”
“Someone just called Cooper Elliott a few minutes ago. It’s about Dani’s boat.”
Sylvia clenched the knuckles of both hands around the steering wheel. “What about Dani’s boat?”
“George Kopp found it at the bottom of the falls this morning. Or at least he found pieces of it. He’s sure it was Dani’s because of the green stripe. She painted it that way herself.”
“Back up,” Sylvia said. The boat didn’t matter. “Is Dani all right?”
“George didn’t see her. He went to her cabin, but she wasn’t there, and she’s not at her house in town, either. That’s why he called the sheriff.”
Sylvia refused to panic. When she wasn’t fishing, Dani often hiked, or someone could have called her to fix a broken pipe. Not being able to reach Dani immediately meant precisely nothing.
“Keep trying to call her, will you?” Sylvia said.
“I’ll try,
but what should I do about all the people here to see you?”
“I only have one appointment this morning.” Jack Parker was due in at about ten. After that meeting—which Sylvia hoped would be blessedly short—she planned to spend the day cleaning up the shop, whether or not she got hold of Dani to help. Dressed in jeans and a cabled sweater Quinn had given her for her birthday years ago, she wanted to feel close to him today.
“I keep telling everybody that,” Marianne said. “They all say they have to talk to you.”
Sylvia blew out her breath. “I’m almost there. I need to call Lizzie before I come in.”
She ended the call and at the next stop sign pushed Lizzie Stanford’s number on her speed dial.
“I’m going to be a little later than I thought.” Sylvia spoke with practiced calm to Lizzie’s voice mail. “You can either go in by yourself and get started on cleanup or wait for me later. I’ll call when I’m on my way.”
Lizzie would prefer to wait, but Sylvia always liked to give her the option to take initiative.
At the edge of town, Sylvia turned off of Main Street and steered toward the street two blocks south where Town Hall was situated. The two-story limestone building was compact but pillared in a manner no doubt meant to make an authoritative statement seventy-five years ago. It housed the chamber of commerce, the mayor’s office, the town council chambers, and the Hidden Falls Historical Society. Because it was two blocks off of Main Street and not an immediate neighbor to any business more exciting than the mortuary, normally Town Hall was a quiet place. Governing a town of ten thousand people wasn’t time-consuming. The mayor didn’t even receive a stipend worth accepting, and the administrative assistant only worked three hours each morning.
Today, though, people loitered on the sidewalk. They ought to have been tending their own businesses or getting on with their errands. Sylvia parked her car, knowing she had approximately twelve seconds before someone would realize she had arrived.
It was Betty Pullman who spotted her first. She lurched from her huddle outside Town Hall and toward Sylvia.
“I always thought Hidden Falls was a safe place to live,” Betty said. “I’m starting to wonder if we ought to move to Birch Bend.”
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