Page 6 of Vanished in the Mist (A Mystic Lake Mystery #2)

Kaden glanced through the cockpit window toward the prow of the boat, where Shanna was sitting.

Her complexion had been alarmingly pale when she’d emerged from the head earlier.

But after brushing her teeth with one of the guest sets he kept on board, and drinking down a bottle of water, she’d regained some of her color.

He’d tried to get her to lie down, no longer sure that her being outside, where she could see the water, was going to help her feel better.

But she’d insisted she’d feel trapped down in the cabin and would rather face whatever was coming.

Then she’d straightened her shoulders like any good soldier and marched to the prow, where she’d been ever since.

Anyone looking at her would think she was enjoying herself, unless they caught a glimpse of her hands.

She was clinging so tightly to the arms of her seat that her knuckles were white.

He wondered what had happened in her past to make her so afraid.

Seeing her physical reactions to the lake, and the fact that she still insisted on being part of the search for Tanya, he couldn’t help but be impressed that she refused to give in to her fears.

Most people he’d met would have made a beeline for her sister’s place rather than purposely place themselves in the position that she had.

Heck, he probably would have stayed there himself if he felt physically ill near water.

Shanna was courageous and full of determination—both traits he greatly admired.

It also didn’t hurt that she was as beautiful, or more, as any so-called beauty queen that she’d mentioned earlier.

But he had a feeling that comparison wouldn’t go over well with her. So he kept that thought to himself.

A flash of white off the starboard side had him turning the wheel to port and gunning the engines to get around yet another reckless boater.

That made three near misses in the last ten minutes.

As soon as the danger passed, he glanced at Shanna.

If she’d reacted, she wasn’t showing it.

He certainly didn’t want to scare her any more than she already was.

But it was hard to keep clear of all the wannabe captains around here who’d likely watched a required thirty-minute video on boating safety before being handed a key to a rental boat.

The lake finally began to widen, so he steered toward the middle, putting more of a buffer between him and the fools closer to shore as he passed the marina that had likely rented them those boats.

He’d researched this area before driving here.

From what he’d learned, the main tourist season would start in the summer, about two months from now.

But obviously, the people out on the river, or fishing from the shore, or just plain drinking and partying on the docks, didn’t care which season it was.

They were enjoying the mild weather and didn’t appear to be worried about the stories—both real and imagined—of all the accidents and disappearances on Mystic Lake.

Heck, knowing human nature, the mysteries surrounding this place likely increased tourism instead of putting a damper on it.

If he’d realized this many people would be out here, and how reckless they’d be, he’d have brought a smaller boat so he wouldn’t have to struggle to get this one’s thirty-three-foot length clear when a speedboat got too close.

Thankfully, where he was headed was a much more shallow section of the lake that was less frequented by boaters.

Just a few more turns and he’d be away from the crowd, assuming at least some of his online research was reliable.

He made the first turn, relieved to see a noticeable drop in the numbers of other boaters, just as he’d hoped.

Still, he kept in the middle of the channel and watched for the crazies and drunks.

When he made a second turn, the lake opened up, and was much wider and calmer with no other boats around.

There were houses here and there tucked up in the trees along both shores.

But most of the docks were empty, devoid of partiers and tourists.

Most likely these homes belonged to locals and weren’t being rented out to sightseers.

Those locals were most likely finishing up their day at work or even preparing to make the long trek home from neighboring Chattanooga.

That should make the search much safer, at least for a little while, which was always his primary concern.

There were a lot of potential dangers on the water and under the water, in Mystic Lake more than most.

He slowed to four knots and checked the depth-meter gauge.

Back by the marina, it had read close to fifty feet.

Here, it was reading twelve. But every once in a while it would bump down to four or five for several seconds before going back in the twelve-foot range.

Variations in the bottom of the lake bed were to be expected.

But jumps that sharp and fast indicated something else, likely debris beneath the surface.

It wasn’t unexpected, given the lake’s history.

There could be trees, automobiles, even crumbling buildings down there, all of which made the dangers significantly higher than one of his usual trips.

He’d have to be extremely careful, not just to protect his investment in the Discovery , but to look out for Shanna.

He didn’t want to add any trauma on top of what she was already experiencing by involving her in a boating accident.

The GPS meter showed he was close to his destination, the area where Tanya had told her parents she was going to sit and read at some picnic benches under the trees at the lakeshore the day she disappeared.

Looking at the bank off to starboard, he could understand why the bookish, smart sophomore, who was said to be a loner, would choose that area.

It was serene and beautiful, dotted with purple and yellow wildflowers this time of year, with a dozen picnic benches scattered under the trees.

The road that led here ended off to the right, a dead end.

This was where access to the lake ended by land.

The closest house he could see was a good hundred yards away, high up the mountain.

Still, if she’d been his daughter, he’d have been uneasy knowing she was out here all alone.

Not because of the myths and legends, but because of the very real dangers to young girls— other people , especially men.

The same things that attracted Tanya to this area could attract those who were up to no good.

The kind of men who might stumble across a lone female and suddenly become her worst nightmare.

He cut all but one of the four engines. Hopefully, what had happened to Tanya was much more benign.

It would be far better if she’d simply drowned, although that was tragic in itself.

But to learn she’d been taken by some stranger and likely had awful things done to her before being killed would be a much worse fate.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine the agony a parent would feel learning something like that.

It might be kinder for them to never know what had happened rather than to have the worst confirmed.

“Is something wrong with the boat? I think most of those massive engines off the back have quit running.”

He glanced to port, where Shanna was standing in the cockpit opening, clinging to the nearest railing. He offered her a reassuring smile.

“I cut most of the power. The water near that bank off to our starboard side, to our right, is our destination. I’ll use one engine to turn into the current while I drop anchor so we don’t run into the shallows.”

She looked confused, but nodded as if she understood. He wondered if she’d ever been on a boat before. If not, her fear of the water wasn’t because of a boating accident. Something else must have happened.

“We got here sooner than I expected,” she said. “I thought it would take a lot longer.”

“It would have by car. From what I saw on the maps I studied, the main road from town winds around these mountains quite a bit. By water it’s straighter, much shorter.

Even going slower than a car, a boat would beat them every time out here.

” He checked his depth gauge again, making sure they were clear of underwater hazards before slipping past her to take care of the anchor.

Once he was back at the helm, Shanna stood beside him, shaking her head in wonder.

“I had no idea they made boats this fancy and sophisticated. All of these huge screens and digital instruments look like something out of a sci-fi movie. One that has leather seats and white oak cabinetry everywhere. If I didn’t hate the water, I’d probably want something just like this. ”

“Thanks. I think. She’s a stunner for sure, quite the investment in my company. The luxurious features are a bonus, especially when we end up on an extended salvage operation. But it’s the horsepower, reliability and generous-sized scuba deck that sold me on her.”

“Scuba. You mentioned that before. Are you going to dive right here and search for—for signs of Tanya, assuming she went into the water as the police believe?”

“Yes and no. I won’t actually dive unless my scanner indicates a potential hit.”

She leaned past him, eyeing the twenty-four-inch Garmin navigation screen. “Scanner? You have cameras to see underwater?”

“Not a typical camera, no. Unless you’re in the Bahamas or some other tropical paradise, where the water is crystal clear, you won’t be able to see more than a few feet or a few yards.

A camera doesn’t do you much good under those conditions.

Discovery ’s scanners use sonar, like a bat, and draw a picture on the screen that’s similar to a topographical map. ”

“The kind that shows how high or low land is, like mountain elevations?”