But they paled next to her new tattoo. The hospital had coated it with antibacterial lotion, so it gleamed and twinkled as she moved. She had to admit, it was intriguing and beautiful. But it was also, she thought bitterly, a form of rape.
AROUND MIDNIGHT, when she felt certain no more visitors would appear, Rachel begged the nurse to let her use a laptop, ostensibly to check her e-mail. When she was alone, she logged on to The Lady of the Lakes and began to write.
Mystery solved. Some scrawny old guy was keeping pretty girls in his basement and drawing pictures on them. The girl who died was an accident, and now the bad guy’s dead too. You can read all about it in the paper. So for a while, at least, the sidewalks and streetlights should be safe again.
She scowled. It was a pretty weak entry, all things considered. And she hated the thought of sending her readers to the Cap Jo. But she didn’t feel up to writing in any more detail and then checking to make sure she’d said nothing to give her identity away. This would have to do. She posted it, erased the cache from the browser, and shut down the laptop. The Lady of the Lakes was back in business.
THE NEXT MORNING Rachel was watching the local news when the door opened and Julie Schutes entered.
The reporter closed the door and stood with her back to it. Neither spoke for a long moment. Finally Rachel said, “May I help you?”
“We’ve met before. Julie Schutes, Wisconsin Capital Journal.”
Rachel calmly pushed the button to summon the nurse. “Oh, I remember you. And I have no comment. On anything.”
“I’m not here entirely as a reporter, Ms. Matre.”
“How did you get past the guard?”
She shrugged. “I know most of the cops. They like me.” She crossed the room and stood at the foot of Rachel’s bed. “So before I get tossed out, you should know that I dated Ethan Walker for a little over two years. We were very serious.”
Rachel kept her reaction to herself. “I’ll add that to Wikipedia.”
Julie spoke carefully, as if she’d practiced the speech. “He’s too good for you, Ms. Matre. Seriously. He needs someone who can help him in his world, not drag him down into theirs.”
“Like you?”
“I don’t know. I realize how harsh and selfish this sounds. I appreciate that you’re a business owner and local hero, but the first doesn’t really count and the second will fade in about a week. You’re from the proverbial different worlds. You run a diner for college kids and borderline transients; he’s a war hero who puts up buildings worth millions of dollars.”
“We only went out once,” Rachel said.
“Yes, well, for his sake, just remember that. Don’t hurt him, but don’t try to hang on to him either.”
The door opened, and a nurse entered. “Can I help you?” she asked Rachel.
Rachel nodded at Julie. “Toss this bitch out, will you?”
RACHEL AND ETHAN walked to the end of the pier that extended from the entrance to the Yahara River locks. The channel allowed boats to pass from one lake to the next along the straightened, deepened, and maintained stretch of river that cut across the isthmus. Birds danced in the wind, and waves cut through the water.
They stopped at the most isolated bench. Rachel sat gingerly, easing down around the bruises, splinters, and cuts. Her bandaged wrists made her look like a failed suicide. Ethan waited until she’d situated herself, then he joined her. They sat in silence.
“How long until you start the tattoo removal?” he said at last.
“About three weeks. They want everything else to heal up first. Less chance of infection that way.”
He nodded.
She turned to face him. She’d avoided his phone calls and e-mails while in the hospital and cut short his visits with claims of pain-medication drowsiness. She knew he was confused by her response, and in some ways so was she. He’d gone through hell for her, risked reliving the awful experience in Iraq by accompanying the police to Korbus’s house, and certainly deserved better than he’d gotten from her. Yet she felt essentially nothing. She was not angry or embarrassed, just… numb. Until her feelings returned to normal, she knew she’d find his presence in her life as much an irritant as a blessing. And that was completely unfair.
She licked her lips and said, “Ethan, I need to tell you something.”
Her tone made it obvious this wasn’t good news, and she saw the fear and disappointment in his eyes. He kept his voice neutral, though, and said, “I figured.”
“I owe you my life. And I like you a lot. But I don’t think I’ll be very good company for a while. I certainly won’t be good company in… that way.”
He nodded. “I can understand that.”
“I’m afraid if you stay around right now, every time I see you it’ll remind me of what happened. And I don’t want that. Not for me, not for you. So …”
He waited patiently.
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Goodbye, Ethan. At least for now.”
He looked down, then out at the lake, then up at the sky. She swore she heard the crack when his heart broke. “If you’re sure that’s what you need,” he said, “then I’ll honor it.”
“I’m sure,” she said, with a finality she didn’t feel but that she knew she needed to fake for everyone’s sake.
After another long moment he said, “I guess I should take you home, then.”
“No, I’ll walk. It’s not that far.” And she stood before she could change her mind.
He did as well. “Okay. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”
“I do.” She kissed him again, on the lips this time, but as chastely as the one on his cheek. Then she turned and walked away without saying another good-bye. The tears, born from the image of him in the arms of that leggy blond reporter, didn’t start until she was well out of sight.
What do you know? she thought ironically. I can still feel something after all.
AMBIKA PEEKED into Ethan’s office. He sat looking out the window at the state capitol building, hands behind his head. The bronze statue atop the dome glowed in the afternoon sun. “Can I get you something before I leave, Ethan?”
“Hmm? Oh. No, thanks.”
“Did you see the bid on that community center?”
“I saw it, but I haven’t looked at it. I will, though.”
She nodded, turned, and left. He heard the outer door close, then lock. He glanced at the clock on his computer screen. It was four o’clock.
He took out his cell phone and scrolled through recent calls until he found Julie’s number. He ran his thumb over the call button.
Then he closed his phone and put it back in his pocket. He could hold off. What had happened between Rachel and him was worth the effort, even if she never knew what the waiting cost him.
THREE WEEKS after Rachel left the hospital, Patty Patilia stood in the diner’s doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Clara, the new waitress, said, “You can sit anywhere. I’ll be right with you.”
Rachel looked out of the kitchen, saw Patty, and came around the end of the counter. The two women hugged very gingerly, careful of each other’s wounds. They sported matching wrist scabs.
“How have you been?” Rachel asked, and took the stool beside Patty.
“Sore but productive,” she said. “Apparently a near-death trauma does wonders for your creativity. I’ve been writing songs like a madman, and I’ve got gigs booked through December. Paying gigs, even.”
“Some silver lining,” Rachel said.
“Yes, but I’d just as soon have skipped the cloud.”
Clara brought them coffee, trailed by a watchful Helena. The new waitress spilled a little on the counter, which made Helena cluck in disapproval. Rachel said, “Helena, Clara, this is Patty.”
“Hi,” Helena said.
“I saw you on the news,” Clara added. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
Helena leaned close and whispered, “Don’t banter, you have a counte
r full of people waiting for refills.”
“I’ve been a waitress before,” Clara snapped softly.
“Not here, you haven’t.”
The two women moved away. Rachel shook her head. She liked Clara a lot and would have to tell Helena to lay off pretty soon. To Patty she said, “I’m glad you’re feeling better too.”
Patty scowled. “Yes, except that everything itches. How about you?”
“I start the tattoo removal next Monday. Apparently blue and black are the easiest colors to remove, and those were mainly the ones he used on me.”
“Your own silver lining?” Patty said.
Rachel shrugged. “It’s still going to be no picnic.”
“That’s actually what I came in here to talk to you about. Carrie Kimmell doesn’t have insurance, and she can’t afford to get her tattoos removed. I’m doing a benefit for her this Saturday, and I wondered if I could post a flyer about it.”
“Of course.”
“And you’d be more than welcome to attend. I invited Faith, but she’s trying to, ahem, distance herself from the events.”
Rachel nodded. She’d seen Faith’s parents on TV and doubted they’d let their daughter out of their sight again until she was forty.
“There’s one more thing.” Patty looked down at the counter for a moment, then said softly, “That day in the basement, you … you promised to tell me why you did what you did. You know, when you… you know.”
Rachel blushed. “Yeah.” She looked up and said, “Helena? Patty and I are going for a walk. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Sure,” Helena said. “Clara and I can handle it until the lunch rush.”
“If she’ll let me off the leash,” Clara added.
“I think it’s time for Clara to fly solo,” Rachel said. Helena started to protest, then nodded. Clara beamed.
Rachel held the door for Patty. “It’s one of those stories that’s easier to believe if you’re actually there.”
Patty shrugged. “Okay.” When they were outside, she asked, “Where are we going?”
“To the lake,” Rachel said.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALEX PRENTISS left the South and was delighted to find Madison, Wisconsin, waiting. One marriage and two kids later, Prentiss is still glad to be living, and writing, in Madison. Night Tides is Alex Prentiss’s first novel.
A lake filled with memory…
A woman drawn to the spirits…
A murder that severs that connection …
When you’re in over your head, all you see is
DARK WATERS
A new Lady of the Lakes novel by Alex Prentiss
Usually when you help capture a serial killer, your job as a good citizen is done. But Rachel Matre, a diner owner by day, is also the Lady of the Lakes—which means she’s connected to the lake spirits of Madison … and therefore to the city itself.
When a community-center development becomes the source of controversy—and murder—Rachel finds herself once again in the middle. For not only is her sister the prime suspect, but the construction company is owned by Ethan, the man she is powerfully attracted to.
And when the spirits she has always counted on, for both information and pleasure, go silent, Rachel is forced to find answers on her own—answers about the spirits, her sister, and, perhaps most important, Ethan.
DARK WATERS
The follow-up to Alex Prentiss’s debut novel, Night Tides
A Bantam Book coming in Fall 2010
Night Tides is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
A Bantam Books Mass Market Original
Copyright © 2009 by Alex Prentiss
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Bantam Books,
an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group,
a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
BANTAM BOOKS and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-553-90702-5
Retouching: Steven Youll
Lettering: Carol Russo
www.bantamdell.com
v3.0
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
About the Author
Copyright
Night Tides Page 23