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Chapter Forty-Two

Logan rode slowly along the paths in the cemetery. He didn’t see anything. He parked his bike as close to Bree’s grave as he could and jogged toward the tombstone with his daughter’s name.

The light of his flashlight caught the wilting flowers AJ had left there only a little more than a week ago. Emotions washed over him, but he wouldn’t let them take control. Holding them in check, he looked around. Nothing.

“Guys, there’s nothing here.”

Will’s voice came across Logan’s earpiece. “I’m not surprised. The more I think about it, the more I think he’s indicating something else. Capture. Madness. Do you think he’s referring to the asylum and Capture the Flag?”

“Oh, duh. Why didn’t I think of that first?” A memory rushed into Logan’s mind. “One time when we were playing, Miles was looking for AJ, hoping to get a kiss out of her. It was right after homecoming.”

“Didn’t you kiss her that night instead?”

“Yep. Do you think he knew?”

“I remember that night; you two were awfully cozy after the game. So there’s a good chance. That’s got to be it. It’s not like you didn’t associate it earlier today too.”

“Indeed. That place is huge. It’s going to take forever to find the clue unless it’s on the front steps.”

“Maybe dead is the clue. Try the asylum’s morgue.”

“Will do.”

Logan stared at Bree’s tombstone, kissed his fingertips, and laid them on top of the marker. “I’ll find your momma and save her. I promise.”

He ran to his motorcycle. Time was ticking.

AJ shivered as the cool September night air rushed across her body. Miles had plopped her inside the bottom of the small boat and tied her legs together. She was half tempted to fling herself over the side of the boat and take the risk with the water, but with her hands and feet bound, she’d never make it to shore.

He drove the boat upstream from the house for about a mile but slowed as they approached a bridge that took a road across the river. He stopped beneath the center of the bridge and went to the side of the boat and clipped the boat to a rope wrapped around the concrete column that came out of the dark water.

Whatever he was planning, he had already prepared for it.

Grabbing a second rope hanging from the bridge towering so high above them, he tugged on it. “Perfect. Come here, dear.”

She didn’t budge. Not that she could. She glared at his shadowy figure, unable to process what his plan was.

“Oh right. You can’t.” Miles crossed the boat to her and lifted her to her feet. “Now it’s not too cold, so that won’t kill you. As long as you stay above water, you’ll live. It’s that simple.”

Was he going to put her in the water somehow? Her insides quaked at the idea. Ever since Bree had drowned in this very river, she had vowed to avoid it at all costs. She loved swimming, but she hated this body of water.

He tugged her to the front of the boat and wove the rope under one arm, around her front and under the other arm. “I’m very skilled at tying knots, so this will hold just fine.” He tied what seemed like an intricate knot behind her back.

“What are you doing?” She couldn’t keep her voice from cracking.

“You’ll figure it out.” He turned her around to face him and gripped her arms. “I’ll be back for you in about an hour.” He looked up. “Unless of course that stupid husband of yours takes too long to figure out these simple clues. But either way, as long as nothing happens to me, you’ll be safe.”

With one hand still tightly gripping her arm, he cupped the side of her head with the other. She tried to squirm away, but his hold was too strong.

He leaned his face in toward hers. His hand on the side of her face prevented her from headbutting him again. “Stop looking so scared. You’ll be fine. You just have to hang in there. Now for something I’ve waited for since I was fifteen years old.”

He closed the distance and planted his lips on hers.

She scrunched hers up and tried to pull away.

He backed off and once more she spit in his face. He swore and shoved her off the side of the boat.

AJ splashed into the water. The inky darkness swallowed her whole. Her lungs screamed for air, but she couldn’t do much of anything to get to the surface. She wriggled her body like a mermaid as best she could.

But the rope under her arms became taut and raised her out of the water. She spit the river water out of her mouth and gasped for air.

Miles stood in the boat with his phone glowing in his hand. “Now you understand. You’ll slowly sink into the water, but every ten minutes I will press this button”—he pressed a button, and she rose another foot, putting the water line at her waist—“and you’ll come up, but if I don’t push the button, you’ll sink farther. Better hope Logan doesn’t distract me too long.”

He unhooked the boat and drove away.

The current of the river pulled on her legs. Her shoes were already waterlogged, weighing her feet down.

The Catawba River was big and broad. It looked quiet here; however, it was anything but. The current was strong and the water cool.

Thankfully, it was probably in the upper seventies as far as temperature, although the air was only in the sixties. Cool enough in her short-sleeve polo to make her uncomfortable when dry, yet now that she was wet, she began to shiver.

She tried to push away the thoughts about how little Bree had breathed her last in this very water. She couldn’t think about it. Yet thoughts that she was going to meet the same fate as her daughter bombarded her mind, attempting to squash her hope completely.

God, help.