Pine Lake. Amanda Stevens
could see the silhouette of the man facing her.
“Follow me, Olive. Nice and slow. We’re in no hurry. We have all night.”
His voice flowed over her, so honeyed, so comforting in the dark. She could see the gleam of his eyes, the curve of his jaw. He seemed very steady on the rafter. Not the least bit afraid.
She drew a deep breath and released it. “I’m ready.”
They began to move slowly, inch by inch toward the end of the bridge. He had the more difficult job because he was maneuvering backward on the unsteady support. He didn’t look over his shoulder or down at the water. He kept his eyes trained on Olive. She tried to do the same. She didn’t dare look out over the lake. She didn’t dare peer down into that misty abyss.
“Almost there. You’re doing great, but I need you to stay focused, okay? I need you to stay calm.” He came to a halt and she did the same. His eyes gleamed in the dark as he held her gaze. “Now comes the tricky part.”
“The tricky part?” she echoed faintly.
“We’re going to lower ourselves over the side. The braces form a sort of ladder at the end of the horizontal beam. I imagine that’s how you got up here.”
“I don’t remember.”
“It’s not as hard as it sounds. I climbed this thing more times than I could count as a kid. Nathan did, too.”
“That doesn’t sound like Nathan,” she said.
“It took a lot of double-dog daring.”
She heard a smile in his voice and shivered. “I’m ready.”
He went over the side first, finding his footing and then clinging with one hand as he waited for her. Olive counted to ten and then eased into position, lowering her legs and grappling for a foothold. The movement must have put too much pressure on the rusty bolts. She heard a loud snap and then one end of the beam dropped out from under her. For one heart-stopping moment, she found herself in a free fall.
Then a hand clamped around her wrist. “Easy now. I’ve got you.”
“Don’t let go!” she pleaded.
“Not a chance,” he said as he tightened his grip.
He pulled her up to the ladder and then his arm came around her, holding her close as she found her footing. Now that one end of the beam had popped free, the integrity of the structure was even more compromised. The struts clanged ominously as Olive and her rescuer began their descent. At deck level, he climbed over the guardrail and helped her through. She clutched his arm, mindful of all those missing planks and the glisten of water far below.
“Let’s get off this thing,” he said and took her hand, leading her from the bridge. When they were safely on the bank, she stopped and bent double, catching her breath.
“Are you okay?”
She drew in air. “I just need a moment.”
“You did great,” he said.
She sucked in several more breaths before she straightened. She could see him more clearly now. He was tall and slim with broad shoulders and long legs. Dark hair, dark eyes. Tantalizingly familiar.
She could see him so well, in fact, she wondered if the moon was up, but then she realized the light came from a bobbing boat at the edge of the water.
“I don’t know how I can ever thank you. If you hadn’t found me when you did...” She trailed off on another shudder. “How did you even know to look for me up there?”
“I didn’t. It was just a lucky break.” He paused. “You really don’t remember how you got up there?”
“I don’t even know how I got to the lake. I have no memory of leaving my house.” She glanced down at her bare feet, realizing for the first time that she was in her pajamas. The fabric was summer-weight cotton. Sheer if the light hit her just right, but modesty was the least of her worries. She pulled a leaf from her hair and watched it swirl to the ground. “I don’t remember anything.”
“What about sounds?” he asked. “Did you hear any loud noises? A car engine maybe?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. But sleepwalking occurs in deep sleep. I never remember anything.”
He stared down at her for a moment. “Do you do this often?”
“No, not in years. I had a sleep disorder in my early teens, but I thought I’d outgrown it. Anyway, the point is, it’s like having amnesia. I don’t even know what awakened me.”
“Maybe you sensed my presence up there on the beam or felt my hand on your shoulder. I did my best not to startle you.”
“Thank you. That could have been disastrous for both of us.” Now that she was on solid ground and the danger was over she found herself growing curious about him. He still seemed familiar and very capable. “You said you and Nathan go back. Did you go to school together?”
“From kindergarten on.”
“Wait. I know you,” she blurted as recognition dawned. “You’re Jack King.”
She saw a frown fleet across his face. “My reputation precedes me, I guess.”
“It isn’t that. I remember you from the year my mother and I moved to Pine Lake. We stayed with Nathan and his dad until we got our own place. You used to come by the house with Tommy Driscoll and some of the other seniors. You’d hang out by the pool. I was invisible to most of Nathan’s friends, but you were always nice to me.”
“Was I?”
She gave an awkward laugh. “I guess I was invisible to you, too. You don’t remember me, do you?”
“I do now, but you’ve changed. No glasses, no braces.” He canted his head, peering down at her in the light. “I think I can still see some freckles, though.”
A thrill chased up Olive’s spine at his scrutiny. She’d never told anyone—had barely admitted it even to herself—that she’d had a crush on Jack King that year. Nathan’s other friends were rude and boisterous, but Jack was different. To a hopelessly romantic fourteen-year-old, he’d seemed deep and introspective. And devastatingly handsome. “You haven’t changed a bit,” she said.
“I’d wait for better lighting to make that assessment.”
“I can see you just fine.”
Car engines sounded on the road. Doors slammed and male voices carried in the dark.
“That’ll be the sheriff.” Jack turned toward the trees and called out to the newcomers. “Down here!”
Olive scanned the woods anxiously. “You called the police? Why didn’t you wait for their help to get me down?”
“I didn’t think it a good idea to leave you up there any longer than was necessary. Besides, I didn’t call the cops because of you.” He hesitated, his eyes going past her to the water. “No easy way to say this. I found a body in the lake before I saw you on the bridge.”
Olive’s hand crept to her throat. “A body?”
“A woman.”
“Do you know who she is?”
“No. But if she’s local, the sheriff or one of his deputies can likely identify her.”
Olive closed her eyes in dread. “If she’s local, she’s probably someone I know.” A former student perhaps or even a friend. “Pine Lake is small. Everyone knows everyone.”
“I remember.”
She