Page 127 of Barinov

Knox continues, giving his glorious speech we all know so well. Talking all about tradition. About the mandatory Wexley school spirit and how they send their champions off with a bang like no other.

“…and I want all of you fuckers to hype our girl up so loud that Paris hears your asses from here!”

We’re already spilling over the rails, a human tide hitting the hardwood just as Pitbull’s “I Believe That We Will Win” detonates from the rafters. We swarm Ellie in a frantic, shouting circle. Briggs heaves her onto his shoulder like a trophy, her grin blinding under the gym lights as the chant turns the entire arena into a drum.

I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket when the second chorus hits.

@LucaWasHere

Cheer louder, boys. Make Paris believe,

That chanting her name is enough to retrieve.

Little Whitmore may glow under burgundy lights.

But don’t forget Lexie, you owe me some fights.

The lake was so pretty the first time she stayed,

Canvas and sunshine and futures remade.

They built her a sanctuary all fragile and stark,

But water runs deep and I swim in the dark.

So return to the dock where the past doesn’t drown.

Where pine shadows stretch when the sun settles down.

Cade’s next masterpiece waits by the shore,

In the house that was hers, but is not anymore.

Chapter 29

CADE

Fayetteville, Arkansas

36 days since Bella’s kidnapping.

Gravel crunches beneath the tires of the SUV as Tex pulls onto the long, winding drive. I stare out the tinted glass at the Harrington lakehouse and finally understand why she loved it here.

The house sits high on a hill overlooking a lake. It’s built out of warm cedar painted a deep navy with tall, white windows reflecting the afternoon light. The roof angles gently toward the water and hangs out over a massive screened in deck.

The cloud-like white canopies of waking Bradford pear trees fill the yard as the lake stretches out beyond it, blue-green and deceptively calm. The cool water gently ripples under the spring breeze. Along the banks, the birches are just beginning to bud. Their pale-green contrasting against the dark and peeling bark.

There’s a narrow wooden dock at the bottom of the hill. It’s withered and slightly tilted from years of a little girl running and jumping off of it.

“It’s beautiful here,” I whisper, taking it all in.

“I get what she meant,” Lex adds. “This place being her calm.”

Bella always described this place as if it was her childhood sanctuary. Henry and Elise sipping their morning coffee on the back deck. Her running around barefoot on the cold planks. The way the mist would run over the water before the sunrise.

She always said it was more than just her home. It was the one place where she ever really felt safe. The only place where she could breathe.

As we step out, the cool, spring air hits me, carrying the scent of water and pine sap with it. It brushes across my face, slides under my jacket, and for a split second I can almost imagine her standing here beside us. Her hair flowing loose over her shoulders as she laughs and tells us all about how the lake looks different in every season.