Envy the Night

Renee’s voice finally tugged Frank’s eyes away from the spot where Vaughn had collapsed into the water, and he saw she was pointing the gun at him now.

“Let go of it and step back,” Renee said. “We’re leaving now. Just like you said.”

Frank opened his fingers and dropped the gun back onto the seat and stepped away.

“Turn off that engine, and go over there and help her in,” Renee said. “I’m not going to hurt either of you. Okay? But you’re taking me back to my husband now.”

Frank cut the engine and walked to the side of the boat and extended his hand for Nora’s. She just stared at him, and Renee said, “Girl, get in the damn boat,” and Nora took Frank’s hand and stepped out of one boat and into the next.

“Okay,” Renee said. “Now help me in. And, please, don’t try to take this gun. We don’t need that. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Frank didn’t move, didn’t speak. Renee stood there in the water holding the gun and staring at him with challenging eyes.

“He shot my husband,” she said. “Shot him, and then brought me up here. I don’t give a damn if you think I was wrong.”

“He deserved it,” Frank said. “Absolutely had earned it.”

She looked at him strangely, and finally nodded. “Yes.”

Her body looked incredibly small under those saturated clothes, her hair plastered against her face and neck, but her eyes were hard and her jaw was set. The gun looked comfortable in her hands, as if she’d held a few before.

“Help me into the boat,” she said. “Now.”

He walked into the bow, and she slogged through the water to get closer. He reached for her and she extended her free hand, grasped his, her palm smooth and slippery with lake water. When he had a firm hold he leaned back and pulled against her weight, not hard, just what was needed to give her an awkward lift and prove she’d need to use the other hand to help. She hesitated, looking once into his eyes as if searching for a sign of treachery, and then she put the gun down on the bow, still in her hand but temporarily useless as she tried to push off and get over the side.

Frank slid his foot over and placed it on her wrist, the fine bones trapped under his heel.

“Don’t,” she said, looking back at him. This time her face changed as she saw what was in his eyes now, what she’d missed in her first study.

“Let go,” he said.

“Stop. I told you I wasn’t going to hurt—”

He shifted his weight, pressed down on her wrist, and her words cut off in a gasp and then her fingers loosened and she released the gun and slid back off the bow. Frank leaned down and took the gun, worked it into his hand before lifting his foot and freeing her.

“Fine,” she said. “You want the damn gun, keep it. I just want to get back to my husband. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

She stretched her hands up to him again, like a child wanting to be held. He stood where he was and looked down into her face.

“You killed Vaughn in cold blood.”

“He deserved it. You said so yourself.”

“Yes, I did. And you believe that what you did was right.”

“Absolutely.” She’d dropped her hands again, was watching him with wary expression.

He nodded. “Good. You and I, we think alike.”

“Okay,” she said. “So let’s go.”

He turned from her and faced Nora, who was standing in the back of the boat watching this all unfold with a horrified expression. There were splatters of blood on her arm. Vaughn’s blood, probably.

“Nora,” Frank said, “I’m going to have to ask you to get back in the other boat.”

“What?”

“Please,” he said, voice gentle. “If you’d get back into the other boat, I’d like you to take Renee and go to the dam. You know how to get there? Good. There’s a bait shop right there, just down the road. Go there, and call the police.”

“Frank . . .”

“Take the other boat and go get help,” he repeated. “Please.”

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Frank, let’s all go get help together. Don’t go back for him. Let the police —”

“Nora.” He spoke with a stronger voice, and the emphasis made him move his gun hand, almost involuntarily. He hadn’t meant it as a threatening gesture, but her eyes went to the gun and fear rode through them, and when she looked at him again he felt sickened.

“It’s safer for you this way,” he said, but she was already moving, had stepped over the side and back into the smaller boat, moving out of fear. Fear of him, of the gun in his hand and what he might do with it.

“Where’s he going?” Renee said, her voice sharp with alarm. “What’s he talking about? Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer, just walked to the steering console and brought the motor to life and pulled away from them, trying not to see Nora, trying not to remember the way she’d looked when he’d moved the gun. He’d turn his mind elsewhere, to the things that needed remembering, things like Ezra’s body under the water and Devin waiting at the cabin.

37

__________

Ezra liked the trees. Loved the trees. They belonged on land, high above the water, but instead they were in it, supporting him, holding him to the surface. The trees didn’t want to let him sink.

He imagined the bottom was way down there, forty or fifty feet at least. Maybe more. The trees that held him were massive. Oaks probably, or maybe birch? They were big boys, that was for sure. He hadn’t realized how high the lake had risen this spring. All the years he’d been out here, the water had never covered fifty-foot trees. Lucky thing for Ezra this was the year. It must have been a hell of a flood. Strange he couldn’t remember it.

Consciousness was difficult to hold, and the sky swam above him, but the trees kept his head out of the water and kept him breathing. There were moments when he’d start to slip, and the water would lap at his chin, but then—and this was the damnedest thing—the trees would grow. Grow. Right then in the moment he needed them most, they’d strain skyward and lift him an inch or two, whatever he needed. They were amazing trees.

He’d tried to use the branches to pull himself farther away, toward the shore, but pulling set off wild bells of pain, so he stopped that and just hung on, floating and waiting. No sense in going anywhere. The trees would grow when he needed them.

Vaughn was gone. Ezra had seen him take the boat, had managed to focus on that and actually lift his head a bit. Then the boat had moved away from him, down the shore and into deeper water, and there had been more gunfire, and though Ezra had no idea where it was coming from or who was causing it, he knew it was bad.

For a while he was waiting to die and not afraid of it at all, patient as could be. This was where he wanted to end. He wanted to bleed his life out into this lake, this beautiful lake that had given that very life to him. It was fine to end out here. It was right. He’d broken the vow he’d made so many years ago when he’d first come to this place, had taken a man’s life once more, and the lake would not allow that. Had not allowed that, had sent Vaughn to punish him. All those years in the jungle with men who excelled at combat, and more years back in Detroit with some of the meanest sons of bitches ever walked the earth, and Ezra had gotten shot by someone like Vaughn? It was tough to get your head around a thing like that.