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Alex switched the music off and chatted with the last of the dancers in her Monday afternoon class as they filed out of the activity hall on the way to the lodge for dinner. Nerves were starting to get to her about the undercover operation scheduled for tomorrow. Sam had been in touch via text all day with updates, and she was expected at Sam and Sara’s this evening to go over the logistics and where backup would be if things went unexpectedly south.
It was too late to stop it now, not that she wanted to anyway, but the gravity of the mission was coming into sharp focus now that it was careening closer. According to Sam and Murphy, the SWAT backup and assigned officers from McCall and Boise were already in town and ready to go, and she was scheduled to be at the station tomorrow morning, a few hours before her meeting with Travis, to wire up and test the system.
Alex changed out of her dance shoes and into her leather flip-flops, pulling the wooden double doors shut
behind her as she made her way back to the cabin. The air was warmer than usual for a late mountain afternoon, and the chatter of retreat-goers buzzed in the background as she veered onto the lake path. The waterfront staff had long since secured the boats to the docks and put away the Jet Skis for the night, but the lazy sound of the lapping water and subtle thud of the ski boats against the bumpers made her glance down the docks.
Charlotte sat alone at the very end of the dock, her blond ponytail shimmering in the sunlight. Alex stopped in her tracks, thumbing through every excuse not to stop when she saw Charlotte drop her face into her hands.
This is a terrible idea. Alex turned slowly and walked down the path to the docks, willing Charlotte not to turn around so she still had the option to abandon ship as long as possible. Alex shook her head, glancing back up toward the lodge. This is exactly like the moment in every horror movie where a stupid white girl decides to wander outside at midnight to “look at the moon.”
There was something different about Charlotte this time, though, obvious even from the slope of her shoulders. The dock boards creaked under Alex’s feet as she walked and the cast-iron clang of the dinner bell from the lodge rang out over the water. Alex looked at her watch. She had exactly twenty minutes before she was in danger of missing Monday Night Manicotti, and that just wasn’t going to happen. It was on her calendar every week for a reason.
“Hey, there.”
Alex sat on the edge of the dock by Charlotte, who barely looked at her, then wiped her smudged mascara with both thumbs before she looked over the water in the opposite direction.
“I just came to see if you’re all right,” Alex said, softening when she saw Charlotte was genuinely upset. “But I can leave if you’d rather be alone.”
Charlotte didn’t say anything, just grabbed the sweatshirt beside her and dabbed at her face. Her white denim cutoffs had a smudge of dust along the thigh, and she was barefoot, her ankles disappearing into the deep green water lapping against the dock. Her tan was a perfect amber gold against her bright yellow triangle bikini top, and as usual, she looked like she’d walked right out of the glossy pages of Southern Living magazine, except for the dark mascara smudges still shadowing her eyes.
Alex took the continuing silence as a hint, but when she got up to go, Charlotte reached up and tugged on her shirt in a silent request for her to stay.
“Sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m just having a bad day.” She stopped, watching a passing Jet Ski as it sped by the dock. The wake had almost reached the shore by the time she spoke again. “Or a bad life. I can’t tell anymore.”
Alex nodded, confused. This was not energy she’d ever seen from Charlotte. So,” she said. “Tell me.”
It was only three words, but from the look on Charlotte’s face, it was the last thing she expected to hear. She looked back out over the water and her shoulders sank.
“Do you remember the other day when I came to one of your dance classes and stayed to dance with the woman whose wife had a sprained ankle?”
Alex nodded. “The retired cop with two left feet?”
Charlotte cracked a smile, but it faded quickly. “Well, when I was leaving, I heard the woman I was dancing with ask her wife if she was upset.”
Alex arched an eyebrow. “Because you were flirting your ass off?”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I may have flirted a little bit, but what are you supposed to do in that situation?”
Alex looked over and smiled. “Dance?”
“Damn, Alex.” Charlotte seemed to try and fail to quell the annoyance in her voice. “Can you at least try to focus here?”
“You’re right. Sorry.” Alex bumped Charlotte’s knee with her own as she stirred the water with her feet. A wide swath of sunlight caught the downy blond hair on Charlotte’s thighs, and Alex reminded herself to not be an idiot. “Seriously, go on. I’m listening.”
“Well, I pretended not to be listening as I walked past, but I heard her wife’s answer: ‘She needs the attention. It’s okay.’”
“Ouch.” Alex shook her head. “I get why you’re upset.”
“No,” Charlotte shot back, meeting Alex’s gaze with red-rimmed eyes. “You don’t. If she was just being rude, I could handle it. I’m used to jealous little potshots from partners. What bothers me is that she was…” She paused, rubbing the center of her palm with her thumb. “That she didn’t even sound mad. She sounded like she pitied me or something.”
Alex turned toward Charlotte, shading her eyes from the sun. “And how did that make you feel?”
“God. You sound like a shrink.”
“Yeah. I’ve heard that a time or two.” Alex smiled but kept the question out there between them. “How did it make you feel when you heard her say that?”
Charlotte shook her head. “At the time, I just shrugged it off, but it’s still bothering me, and it’s been days.” She caught a tear on the back of her hand. “I mean, am I really that pathetic? Does everyone see me that way?”
