The Lake

both.

Leigh assured Deana she’d be back in a couple of days. She hated going, but felt she needed to be on the spot to help Mattie catch Mace.

For the umpteenth time, she satisfied herself that Deana was in safe hands.

Until a small voice in her head whispered:

Oh yeah? Just how safe is safe?

Leigh felt cold and sick inside.

Nothing fazed Mace, she knew that.

If Deana or Warren was to be found, Mace’d do it…

Shit, Leigh. Pull yourself together—they’ll be okay. Go out there; do your thing. As in help Mattie nail Mace.

Between the three of them, she had every confidence they would.

Sheena alone was a one-woman army…

Mattie was also a pretty tough cookie.

And Ava assured us Mace’d be here.

Ava could be wrong, the voice piped up again.

No way, Leigh told herself. He is out here. Regressing. Reliving his childhood days. Thinking about God knows what.

She recalled Sorensson’s face, pale, intense. “Be convinced, Leigh,” she’d said. “Harrison’s moved on. The West Coast’s behind him now. He’s out there in Lake Country…”

“We get some sleep, then plan a course of action,” Mattie told them before Sheena left to go running. “We’re on a covert operation—and it’s a team effort. Leigh, if you think of anything, let us know. Such as likely places where Mace could be—and Sheena, you’re welcome to come up with your ideas. Any ‘feelings’ you may have…”

They parted.

With severe misgivings, Leigh went to her cabin. She turned on the shower and undressed. Easing out a little as she stepped under the shower, soaping herself, feeling the warm water sluice her body. It felt good and, for a short while, relaxing.

Toweling herself dry, she put on her only change of clothing—a loose navy sweatshirt and pants.

But as she lay on the bed, her former unease returned.

She tossed around, staring at the ceiling; all the while bad memories, fears about meeting up with Mace, and escalating concerns about Deana whirled through her mind.

She sighed.

One thing was for sure.

With all this going on in her head, she didn’t feel much like sleeping…

SEVENTY

A hand curved slowly around her neck.

“It can be like this again, Leigh,” he told her.

So tenderly, she almost believed him…

Wanted to believe him.

His eyes glittered down at her.

His mouth hung open.

Her heart hammered. She drew back, her hands flying to her face.

“I loved you,” he whispered. “Things just got a little mixed up, is all…”

Her eyes snapped open.

SEVENTY-ONE

“MACE!”

“I’m here, sugar. And y’came all this way to say hello? I’m touched, darlin’. I truly am.”

The late-noon sun dipped behind the trees, but it was still hot. The cabin was deep in shadow. Shafts of light from the open window pierced the semigloom.

A light breeze from the lake bellied the curtains.

Leigh gasped. How the hell had he gotten to her? The door was locked… and the windows…?

Shit!

Like a fool, she hadn’t checked the windows.

Her eyes darted back to Mace.

A different Mace now.

Plaid shirt. Combat pants—your average guy taking a well-earned summer break. A little fishing. A few beers… It figured, all right. Dressed like that, he’d pass unnoticed in a crowd.

His hair was darker, longer; the blond surfer streaks were gone.

He was a stranger.

A dangerous, unpredictable intruder.

Her blood chilled at the thought.

He swayed a little. A hunting knife hung loosely in his right hand.

“You shouldn’t’ve come, Leigh. Nosin’ around. Disturbin’ a man payin’ his respects to the place of his birth…”

His voice was flat, toneless.

Slowly, Leigh edged up the bed, flinching as her back caught the slatted rail behind. She pulled away from him.

Scarcely daring to breathe.

Sweat, slick and hot, flowed down her sides.

Mace leaned in, his knife making circles near her face. His eyes were deep pits. Grape-black. Glinting into hers.

Hypnotizing her.

Tearing her eyes from his, she thought, I’ve gotta break the silence—keep him talking…

“You did some awful bad things to Deana, Mace. Why did you do it?”

“She was a whorin’ little slut, that’s why. She deserved to die.” He spoke slowly, his voice slurring slightly. “She’s out of the way now. Yessir, where she is, little bitch won’t be causin’ no more grief.”

“Deana’s still alive, Mace.”

“Wrong, Leigh. I killed her. She had to die…”

He’s killed her! THE BASTARD’S KILLED HER… OH NO!

She shot upright, her heart racing.

Reaching out her left hand, edging it sideways toward the water glass on the nightstand, she extended a finger. Nudging the glass a little; cringing as it crashed to the floor.

In the silence, it sounded like a bomb going off.

Mace came in with his fist.

Mashing her jaw.

Whipping, cracking her head sideways.