“I looked. It wasn’t anywhere around. Let’s just go home. I’ll check the lost and found at school on Monday.”
“I seriously doubt that it’s going to turn up there. Come on. This is not something you can slink away from. That bat cost a fortune, and you need it.”
That started the tears. “I already looked, Mom. Geez. What else do you want me to do?”
“Not lose your stuff in the first place.”
Sniffing back tears, Harper curled forward.
“I don’t get any of this.” Jane slid into the seat and stared straight ahead. “It just doesn’t make sense for someone to steal it. That bat is so distinctive; no other player in Mirror Lake can get away with using it. And if someone did take it, how did they walk out of the park with it? You can’t exactly hide a softball bat under your shirt.”
“I don’t know. . . .” A small sob broke Harper’s voice.
“All right. I’ll go look for it.”
Walking at a brisk pace, Jane checked the snack shack, where the gates were rolled down over the counters, but the door was still open. Robin Murphy knew nothing about the softball team stowing their bags out back. Jane checked around the back door, but found nothing. Then she jogged down to the waterfront, where the two top administrators and a few teachers waited. When she asked Gray Tarkington about the bat he was apologetic but distracted. “I didn’t see anybody poking around behind the back door, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “Can we talk about it Monday? I just can’t wrap my brain around it right now.”
“Of course. I just wanted to check, but I know you’ve got a million things on your mind.” Jane thanked him and asked about the latest update on Olivia.
“She was conscious when she left here, but couldn’t tell us her name.” He shrugged. “The paramedic said that happened sometimes with a near drowning. They had her on pure oxygen when they left. That’s supposed to help.”
As Jane hurried back to the car, she wondered if it was possible that Olivia had been drinking or using drugs. Jane had discounted that theory, but how well did she really know the girl? If Olivia had fallen into the water, inebriated . . . well, that would put her on academic probation for a while. And off the softball team.
Wouldn’t that be convenient. Jane frowned, feeling a flicker of guilt for her selfish fantasy. Just a flicker.
“Did you find it?” Harper looked up from her cell phone, apparently in the middle of a text.
“I’m afraid not, but I talked to Mr. Tarkington. He’s going to keep an eye out for it. In the meantime . . .” Jane took out her cell and found the coach’s number. “Carrie? Hey, it’s Jane Ryan.” At first the coach thought she was calling about Olivia. “So you’ve heard already,” Jane said. She shared her limited information, and then told Carrie about the missing bat. “Is there a chance that Harper left it behind at practice?”
“Not today,” Carrie said. “I was the last one at the field, and the area was clean as a whistle. It’s been an issue lately, getting the girls to pick up after themselves. Those damned water bottles drive me crazy.”
Jane hung up with Carrie and started the car. “Coach Carrie says that you didn’t leave it at practice.”
“I knew that. Are we going home?” The high, chipmunk voice tugged at Jane’s maternal instincts.
“Yes.”
They drove in silence, moving past the fat trunks of trees and the broad red or pink flowers of rhododendrons.
“Would it be okay if Emma and Sydney came over?”
Jane bristled, annoyed that Harper wanted to squeeze some fun out of the rest of the day. Maybe it wasn’t fair of Jane to blame her. After all, the kids had been looking forward to the picnic, and what good would it do for them to sit around and worry about Olivia?
“I’m not up for a sleepover. But if they want to come over for dinner . . .” Jane considered the evening ahead. Maybe getting the girls together would be a welcome diversion for all of them, herself included. “I can make crispy cornflake chicken.” It was Harper’s favorite.
“Really? So you’re not mad at me?”
Jane had to swallow back a quick answer. “I’m not blaming you for how today went.” Well, maybe the bat, she amended in her mind. But it wasn’t worth bringing her daughter to tears again.
Emma and Sydney arrived with munchies and a few films on DVD. Emma set up the chips and salsa while the girls debated about which movie to watch first. They decided on a romantic comedy, which Jane was happy to watch as she finished preparing dinner at the kitchen island.
The acoustics of the room bounced all sound back to the kitchen. That included the TV audio, as well as the girls’ voices. As Jane slathered honey on chicken drumsticks, she monitored the conversation.
“Some kids say she had it coming,” Sydney said.
“That’s not nice,” Emma objected.
“I’m just repeating what I heard.”
“Who said that?” asked Harper. When Sydney named a few names, the girls agreed that they were mean girls. “But Olivia could be pretty mean herself,” Harper added.
“You’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead,” Emma said in a soft voice that gave Jane goose bumps.
“She’s not dead,” Harper said.
“I know, but it might happen.”
The girls were silent for a while, and Jane began to tune in to the dialogue of the movie as she dipped the chicken pieces into smashed cornflakes.
With the chicken in the oven, Jane spread frozen tater tots onto a baking sheet.
“Isn’t it kind of funny that she can’t swim?” Harper said out of the blue. “I mean, she lives on the lake, plus she has an infinity pool. She could go swimming anytime, but she can’t swim. That’s ironic, right?”
“My mom says Olivia has a phobia. A fear of water. When she was little, her mom took her for swimming lessons, but she wouldn’t get in the pool.”
“Is that aquaphobia?” Emma asked.
“I don’t know,” Sydney said. “Look it up.”
Emma found a description on her phone. “Aquaphobia. Some call it hydrophobia, but that’s also the name for rabies.”
“What? Let me see.”
“Oh, it’s quite debilitating.” Emma read the profile, ending with the information that some aquaphobics avoided bathing or showering.
“That is so gross.” The three of them groaned together.
“Was Olivia stinky?” Sydney asked.
“Oh, yeah. She reeked.” Harper giggled, and the girls laughed together.
“But I still don’t get it,” Harper said. “If she hates water so much, why did her parents buy a house on the lake?”
“Yeah. Why even bother to live in Mirror Lake? I mean, we’re around water all the time.”
“It’s all about real estate values,” Emma said.
A wise girl.
After dinner the girls went up to Harper’s room to listen to some music. Jane was glad for some privacy; she needed to talk to Luke, the sane center of this crazy, spinning world.
“How’s it going over there?” he asked. “How’s Harper taking it?”
“Surprisingly well, but then again, we’re talking about the fall of her arch rival.”
“Yeah, well, she’s got to feel bad for the kid. Did you see a glimmer of compassion?”
“Barely. She was more concerned with getting to an impromptu party, which I put the kibosh on. But I’m sick about Olivia. Have you heard anything new?”
“They’ve got her stabilized. No visitors. Marcus stopped by and talked to Pete Ferguson. He didn’t see Linda, but Pete’s pretty broken up. Rightly so. Olivia’s suffered a serious contusion. The doctors are keeping an eye on it. If the swelling increases, she’ll need surgery to alleviate the pressure on the brain.”
“That’s awful.” Jane couldn’t imagine what Pete and Linda were going through. And Olivia. “Poor kid.”
“But it sounds like Pete is staying positive, and overall the prognosis is good.”
&nb
sp; Jane collapsed onto the corner of the sofa with a grateful sigh. “Well, at least she’s stable and in good hands. Did Olivia say how she ended up in the water?”
“She doesn’t seem to remember. Apparently she’s disoriented, which is normal for a concussion. I checked out the symptoms on WebMD. Olivia might have a clearer picture of what happened in a day or two.”
“So we don’t know . . .”
“We don’t know if it was an accident or an attack.”
A shiver skittered along Jane’s spine, and she slid down until her head nestled against the armrest. “That is positively creepy. I wish you were here.”
“I wish I could be there to protect. And devour.”
She smiled. “Easy there. I’ve got kids in the house. I don’t want to scare them, but I can’t stop thinking about Olivia. Did you know she has a fear of water? I keep thinking of the panic she must have felt, and somehow it’s worse to think that someone might have deliberately pushed her into the water.”
“I want to think that this was all an accident,” Luke agreed. “That Olivia tripped and fell into the water. That she was stoned.” He gave a heavy sigh. “I want to think that because the alternative might compromise my faith in humanity.”
“I know. The prospect of a girl’s being attacked in Mirror Lake—I mean, in broad daylight, with all those people around—it’s awful.”
“The logical explanation would be an accident,” he said.
“That’s what I’m hoping for.”
Her worries were eased by her conversation with Luke. At the very least it was a relief to hear that Olivia was holding her own. Still, the prospect of an attack pressed on Jane’s thoughts. When Trish and Keiko arrived to pick up their girls, the quick, murmured exchange among mothers told her that they shared the same worries. What if it had been an attack? Were their daughters safe?
No one is safe, Jane thought that night as she stared out into the black night beyond her bedroom window. Danger crosses your path and strikes you down. Sometimes the attack is sudden; other times it’s slow and subtle, a seduction of sorts, a slowly turning vortex that sucks you in. One wrong move, one poor choice, and you’re caught in the trap. No turning back. No chance.
As she lowered the shade she caught a startling reflection of herself, jaw clenched in a grimace, eyes wild.
Whoa. Slow down; take a breath. She had to stop slipping back to panic mode, back to that numb state of mind that had consumed her in the dark days of her imprisonment with Frank.
The sheets were blessedly soft as she stretched out and pulled back her tight shoulders. Although her nerves were all gummed up, she smoothed back the pages of the cheerful though improbable cozy mystery she’d been reading and gave it a try. The steely nerve of the sleuth was encouraging somehow.
The next thing she knew, the book was flopped onto her chest and Harper stood by her bed. In her boxer shorts and T-shirt, with Hoppy the bunny pressed in the crook of her neck, Harper could have been five years old again.
“I can’t sleep.”
Jane lifted the covers. “Come on in.”
Harper slid in and huddled on her side, facing Jane. The stuffed bunny was tucked under her chin so that Harper’s fingers could worry the worn ribbon around the animal’s neck, a gesture that had soothed Harper since she was a toddler. That ribbon had been replaced at least three times.
“Do you feel sick?” Jane asked, grateful that her daughter still came to her in the middle of the night. She had never minded the late-night visits when nightmares or charley horses had awakened her girl.
“No, just... I don’t know.”
The light from the bedside lamp cast a glossy glow over Harper’s features, and for a moment Jane glimpsed a sliver of both herself and Frank. Could their daughter possess the best of them? Forget about genetic probability, the chromosome for blue eyes or a propensity for evil. Wasn’t there some wondrous, creative magic in the emerging form of a human being?
“I can hear my heart beating in my ears,” Harper said. “Is that normal? It’s beating so hard. I just . . . I feel kind of breathless and rattled.”
“That’s happened to me before. I hate that feeling. If you let it take over, it will become a full-fledged panic attack.” Jane smoothed the dark hair from her daughter’s forehead. “You know, fear and anxiety can have a strong effect on a person’s body.”
“Like what?”
Jane tried to explain the terrifying anxiety that could overcome a person. “I’m not saying you’re having a panic attack, but we’re all a little freaked out tonight. It’s been a tough day. Those were some scary moments when they found Olivia in the lake.”
Harper’s mouth twisted. “I know. Now I feel bad for her.”
At last, a scintilla of compassion. “A lot of people are worried about Olivia tonight, thinking good thoughts and praying. That’s what a community does when someone gets hurt. That’s one of the reasons I’m grateful to live in Mirror Lake. I know we’ve got our share of nosy moms and spoiled kids.” Ourselves included, Jane thought. “But when someone needs help, the people around here do what needs to be done. Good neighbors and friends.” She was prattling on, filling the space with fluff to distract Harper, who yawned. It seemed to be working.
“I know. Is Olivia going to die?”
“No.” The blunt question was unsettling, but Harper deserved an answer. “It sounds like she’s going to survive.”
“That’s good. I feel kind of bad about how much I’ve hated her. I’m going to try to be a better person from now on. I mean, I’m not just going to try; I’m going to do it. I’m going to be nice to people. Even obnoxious people like Olivia. Like you always say, I’m going to take the high road and just, like, look the other way when someone annoys me.”
“That sounds like a wise plan.” Jane had to keep herself from gushing over Harper’s epiphany. This was an enormous step in the right direction. “How’s that heartbeat doing?”
Harper stopped twirling Hoppy’s bow to press a hand to her ear. “It’s gone. I can’t hear it anymore.” She smiled at Jane. “Thanks, Mama-dish. You calmed me down.”
“You’re welcome.”
Harper resettled with Hoppy and closed her eyes. “I’m so tired. Are you going to turn off the light?”
“Yup.” Jane reached for the bedside lamp, catching a last glimpse at the tempestuous light of her life before darkness fell over them. Harper had her bad moments—and indefensible, inappropriate actions. But deep inside she had a good heart. Of course, Jane was biased; she would never stop loving her daughter. And if the legend of love was true, eventually it would transform them both.
Chapter 15
The next morning Jane slipped out of bed, trying not to wake up the sleeping girl with dark hair spread over the pillow and an aura of peace settled over her. Jane grabbed her book and headed downstairs for coffee.
“Good morning, Phee-Phee.” She opened the back door for Phoenix, who sniffed the grass with little enthusiasm. “We’ll go for a walk in a few minutes,” she promised. The sky was overcast—a pallid pearl gray that promised rain—but Jane knocked the webs from one of the chairs on the back deck and sat down with her coffee and book. Some mornings in the small yard she fantasized that she was weekending at a country resort. Funny, what a few flowering plants could do for your morale. Privacy, too. The tiger lilies between her deck and Nancy’s fence were splendid and dense, a profusion of green dotted with orange flowers, each as fat as a melon.
In the rear corner of the yard were two small flowering pear trees that hosted native birds year round. When Harper had been in grade school, one of the science units that focused on local birds had required Harper to keep a birding journal. Together she and Jane had set up a small birdhouse and hung a suet seed cake from the fence. “When are the birds coming to eat?” Harper had asked. “Aren’t they hungry?” It had taken a week or so, but they had arrived in flocks and pairs. Nuthatches and house finches. Tiny black-capped chickadees that see
med to be wearing black hoods. Long-tailed balls of gray fluff that Harper identified as bushtits. What fun that project had been. She had helped Harper with the illustrations, but Hoppy had handled the journals and bird sightings herself. Learning the bird names and characteristics, Harper had realized that memorization was one of her strengths. “All this time, I didn’t think I had a strength besides sports,” she had told Jane, who now sighed at the memory. She loved that kid.
This morning Jane could hear birdsong, but the only sighting was of a pair of bossy scrub jays. Probably scaring all the other birds off.
Phoenix returned to the deck, circled, and then plopped down at Jane’s feet. Over her first cup, Jane organized the day ahead. Harper had a game in the afternoon, but the morning was free. Well, sort of. Harper probably had some homework to do, and Jane had brought home a batch of letters to grade. The proverbial “What I did over my summer vacation” in letter form. As Jane had told the class that they could fictionalize, she looked forward to some outlandish reading.
She was in the kitchen refilling her coffee cup when the phone rang. When she heard Gray Tarkington’s voice, a flicker of surprise made her straighten.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said. “Sunday morning and all.”
“No problem.” She took the steaming mug back out to the deck. “What’s up?”
“I’m calling about Harper’s bat.”
“You found it?”
“Actually, the police did, just before dark last night. It’s an alloy bat with Blue Lightning emblazoned on it, right?”
“That’s it.” Jane was almost afraid to admit it. “But the police . . . Where did they find it?”
“In the bushes by the boat cabana. So . . . you haven’t heard from the cops yet?”
“No.” Suddenly, her coffee seemed too acidic to handle. She put the mug on the table. “Gray, what’s going on?”
“Look, Jane, I’m probably not supposed to be telling you this, but the cops want to talk to Harper about how her bat found its way to the scene of the crime.”
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