1
RUE
They’re not goingto find him.
“Check the north end,” a voice calls out from the bank.
“Why the hell would we go to the other side of the lake?” a Marshal shouts back, the morning light sending a strange blue-pink glow across their boat.
“If bodies surface, that’s usually where they end up. Otherwise, I don’t think we’ll find him for months. If at all. We’re seven hours in without a damn sign. They either float to the top immediately, end up in the northern cove, or they don’t ever show up.”
I stare at the man in a Game Warden uniform, gesturing out across the murky waters, my chest feeling strangely tight. The guys in boats shake their heads at him, probably assuming he’s wrong—maybe they think he’s being overdramatic.
But he’s not.
Everyone around here knows what happens when someone slips beneath these black waters. They don’t usually resurface, and once Noah went under, he never came back.
A tear slips down my cheek, and I bat it away with numb fingers.
I don’t know how it happened. I can’t clearly recall the shots, the fall, and the barrage of law enforcement. I justknewthey had him then, but as it turns out, someone else got him first.
And her name is Moccasin Lake.
“This is so fucking wrong,” I whisper into the chaos, still seated next to my SUV. I can’t get any closer than what I am. Everything is taped off. There are men and dogs everywhere still. They pace the shore and keep the onlookers and media back.
Though no one has said a word to me.
I guess I’m invisible.
I push my damp hair from my face, and finally force myself to stand, a sharp pain shooting through my lower back. I wince at it, and the new icy breeze cuts through my sweater. I shiver, and then tense with frustration.
I bet Noah is even colder right now.
The thoughts swirl, and a sob threatens to rack my chest again as my eyes drift across the choppy waters.
Please just come back. Please.
“Miss?” a voice calls from somewhere to my left.
I ignore them and instead, peer out to the dock. The place I’ve causedtwomen to take a plunge against their will. My mind kicks back the image of Noah falling, and my knees start to feel weak again.
“Excuse me,” the same shrill voice says, followed by a light touch on my arm that startles me. “Have you been here long?”
I rip my gaze away from the search efforts and turn to see a woman with a media badge around her neck. There’s a fucking camera following her, and it immediately causes my stomach to roll.
Fucking vultures.
“Are you okay?” the woman with warm, dark eyes furrows her brow at me. She turns back to the cameraman, shaking her head and waving her hand. The man in black jeans drops hisarms, the lens pointing to the ground rather than at me. “Can I get you some water?”
My lips part, tearing the flesh that was seemingly welded together. I can’t find the words. I just watched my childhood best friend and the man I love get swallowed by the lake. I have no idea what words there are for that.
“Get her some water, Dan,” the reporter snaps at the man. “Now.”
“I don’t need water,” the words come out in a croak. “I just need a moment.”
She takes a step toward me, and I take a step back. “Have you taken anything?”
I blink twice at her, trying to process what the fuck she’s talking about. But then it hits me.Right. Drugs. She thinks I came down to the lake to shoot myself up.
