Page 34

Two weeks later…

D espite the shade of the massive umbrella shielding the lounges, the cement pool deck is sizzling hot beneath my feet as I take off my sandals. I look around and see people wearing brightly colored, rubber-soled water shoes and wonder if I will ever be the type of person to take that step. I doubt it. I like the feeling of the water cooling off my burning feet and my toes wiggling beneath the surface too much, even if that means having to bear the burn for a bit to get to it.

Sam didn’t learn any lessons the last time we were here and takes a tube of sunscreen out of my bag to slather it over his shoulders and chest. He hands me the tube and turns his back to me. I don’t mind rubbing the lotion into his skin, even if I am already well coated. I wipe my hands with one of the towels and let my cover-up fall from my shoulders so I can drape it on the back of the chair.

The community center pool opens early, and we’re there when the gate is unlocked. It’s a vibrantly sunny morning that I’m sure will lead to a day of everybody in town packing into the pool to try to find some relief. I wasn’t planning on coming out here today. The newspaper clipping is still sitting on my desk at home, the image taunting me as I try to make sense of it and the question I was asked just a few days ago.

Does anyone really know Terrence Brooks?

I can’t stop thinking about it, but Sam is actually taking a few hours away from both the sheriff’s office and his campaign this morning. The promise of some time with him and the draw of the pool finally brought me out of the house. I’m trying not to be distracted. I want to be present in this moment and enjoy the occasional soft breeze and the image of my husband preparing to dive into the deep end. He disappears beneath the surface and then breaks through again, shaking the water out of his hair and smiling over at me.

“Are you just going to sit over there the whole time?” he asks. “I thought we came here to swim.”

I stand up and take off my sunglasses, dropping them down onto the chair. Rather than going to the diving board, I walk down the steps of the ladder into the moderate-depth section of the pool.

Sam meets me at the bottom, sweeping me into his arms.

“I thought we just came here to relax,” I say.

“We could sprawl out in the shade at home,” he says. “I want to swim. And swimming is so much better with you.”

I smile. “Maybe a few laps.”

He knows it’s all teasing. The water is one of my favorite places to be. It might have been a while since I went down one of the giant slides at a water park, but if the occasion came up to haul a raft up to the top of one with Sam and the others so we could ride down together, I definitely wouldn’t turn it down. For now I’ll be satisfied with just slowly swirling around in the water in Sam’s arms.

We’ve been swimming long enough for my muscles to relax and the chill feeling to have set in when I climb out of the pool to stretch back out on the lounge. Sam comes with me, spreading out a towel on his own chair and plopping a large hat down over his face. I’m pretty sure he’s asleep within a few seconds. The sound of my phone ringing in my bag wakes him up.

“Tell him no, whatever it is,” Sam grumbles.

I take my phone out of the bag and see that it actually is Eric calling.

“Hey, Eric,” I say.

“Where are you?” he asks without greeting.

“You caught me at the pool again,” I tell him.

“You need to go home and make sure your house is secure, then see if you can stay at Xavier’s place in Harlan for a while,” he says.

There’s a sense of urgency and intensity in his voice that tells me he’s very serious about this.

“What’s going on, Eric?” I ask.

“A dangerous inmate that Greg put away escaped from prison last night. He’s accused of murdering a guard during the escape, and there’s reason to believe he’s on his way to you.”