Someone like her.
Another reporter?
Someone who had been held at bay at the main gate and had circumvented the police by boat?
For the briefest of seconds, the image of Norm Metzger with his neatly trimmed goatee and sneering disapproval flashed before her eyes. Wouldn’t it be just like him . . . but no, he was too damned lazy.
Maybe some other reporter, or perhaps a nosy neighbor.
Or the boat could be abandoned, tied to the tree and moving with the current that flowed more swiftly here where the water was deeper.
That was more likely.
You don’t know anyone’s there. The boat could be empty. And it could have been there for days or weeks for that matter.
But would it have survived the hurricane?
And if she squinted, she could almost make out a shadowy figure inside, some white illegible wording near the stern.
Or was that all part of her imagination?
No matter what, she had to check it out and she needed the cover of the tree for a few more minutes. The evening was falling fast now, dark shadows creeping over the river’s surface, the air thick with insects, but she could still be spotted. And that would be a disaster. The plain hard truth was, she didn’t have much of a choice. Not unless she wanted to be found out by her husband’s partner, which she definitely did not!
Hurriedly, she took a step.
Her boot slid.
She tried to right herself. Frantically scrabbled for something to hang on to, but no.
Too late!
Her other foot slipped.
No!
Oh, God—no!
Frantically she searched again for some kind of purchase.
Nothing!
A second later, she splashed into the deep water.
Gasping, Nikki caught a mouthful of water as the river converged over her and the current tugged her violently away from the shore. Automatically, she kicked, her feet weighted by her boots, air bubbles escaping from her lungs. She’d been in this river a hundred times as a kid, so she didn’t panic, just swam upward, toward a dusky sky visible through the swirling water. Up, up from the depths to break the surface, twenty feet from the shore. Coughing and sputtering, she tried to tread water but was dragged farther downstream, along with branches and boards, bits of plastic, even a doll bobbing past, all churned up from the recent storm. She shoved a branch out of the way, saw that she was getting farther from the house.
Don’t panic! You can do this! You’re a strong swimmer. The shoreline isn’t that far. Just swim, Nikki.
She saw the house; now, if she could just—from the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the edge of something big and round and black and—Bam!
An old tire slammed into her head. Pushed her under again. She gasped. Gulped more foul-tasting water. Blinked to stay conscious. Was pulled deeper into the murky depths. She tried to grab on to the slick rubber tire as it bounced, but it slipped away, floating far overhead as she sank.
Darkness tugged at the edge of her consciousness.
Her eyes closed.
The rush of the river seemed to disappear and she felt as if she were floating, being carried softly away.
Don’t black out. Don’t!
Her lungs were tight, starting to burn.
She wanted to let go. So badly . . .
Nikki, don’t! Think of the baby! Think of Reed! Nikki, for God’s sake, do NOT let go!
Her eyes flew open, still submerged far below the river’s surface. She blinked and kicked. Forcing herself upward. Ignoring the fire in her lungs. Refusing to give in to the dizzying feeling of weightlessness.
Don’t even go there!
With one strong kick she shot upward, one of her boots falling free. She broke through the surface and gasped, blinking, still being swept downstream. Toward the willow, where through drops on her lashes she saw a shadow, movement between the long tendrils of branches. Another streak of red, the side of the boat visible, white lettering she couldn’t decipher from this distance. Whoever was in the boat was guiding it away. If she could let the river carry her downstream—
“Holy shit! Someone’s in the water!” a woman yelled from the bank. The voice was sharp, edged in concern. Morrisette. Reed’s partner.
Nikki’s heart sank as she saw Morrisette rushing toward the bank as if she was planning to jump into the water. “No, no, I’m fine,” Nikki tried to yell, but her voice was strangled and she was coughing, but she was okay.
Too late!
The detective launched herself, diving into the swiftly moving current.
No, no, no! This is no good.
From the back, more people began to shout.
“What the—?” A deep male voice.
“Is that Morrisette, what the fuck does she think she’s doing?” A different man was speaking, and she spied a deputy running to the shore. “Hey, we need some help here! Christ, there’s another one in the water.”
“She’s going to drown!” A woman’s voice this time as Morrisette appeared, bobbing up from beneath the surface. She flipped her short hair from her eyes and got a bead on Nikki. “You!” she sputtered, focusing as she started to swim closer. “For the love of God, what the hell are you doing here?”
There were more excited shouts from the bank. Deep Voice yelled to someone, “Get a rope! Or something.”
“What’s that gonna do?” the woman demanded.
“You got a better idea?” Deep Voice again. “Yeah, right! I didn’t think so. Just get the fucking rope!”
And then, over it all, another almost-angry voice, “What the hell got into her?”
Reed! She’d recognize her husband’s voice anywhere. She turned her head and spied him. “Nikki?” Reed yelled. “Nikki? Oh, Jesus. What—?” He was already sprinting toward the bank as if he, too, was going to dive in, just as Morrisette, spitting water and blinking, surfaced about twenty feet from her.
The detective’s eyes were like lasers as they focused on Nikki. “Why am I not surprised?” She was trying to swim toward Nikki but fighting a losing battle with the swift river. “What the fuck do you think you’re—? Oh, shit!”
From the corner of her eye Nikki caught sight of a small boat, unmoored and swirling wildly in the current. The same boat? Or another craft? She didn’t have time to think. It spun crazily, heading straight toward her.
Her heart turned to ice and she started frantically swimming.
“Move!” Morrisette ordered, eyes round.
Upstream, Reed surfaced and he, too, saw the impending disaster.
The boat was spinning crazily, careening faster and faster, closer and closer.
“Nikki!” he yelled, his eyes round in horror. He was already swimming toward her. “Watch out!”
Nikki cut to one side and dove deep.
Too late!
Thud!
The side of the boat slammed into her shoulder. Hard.
Pain jarred her, radiated from her shoulder.
Her arm went slack.
Stunned, she nearly blacked out. Felt something break deep inside of her. The water—so much damned water—swirled and danced around while a dull, throbbing ache crawled up her neck.
Swim! an inner voice yelled at her and she blinked, then with one arm forced herself upward, making her legs kick, breaking the surface in time to see the boat—red and white in the gathering darkness—careening wildly toward Morrisette.