Page 96 of Whispers

“Randa—no!”

Faster and faster the Camaro tore over the road, windshield wipers slapping away the rain, tires singing on the pavement.

“Come on, Claire, you’re with me on this, aren’t you?” Miranda trod hard on the accelerator as the trees gave way to a grassy stretch of beach.

“What about Tessa?” Claire asked, panicking.

“She’s agreed.”

“She hasn’t said a damned word.”

“She’s in!”

“Okay, okay!”

“Hang on!” Miranda cranked on the wheel.

The Camaro jerked. Tires slid as they hit the gravel of the shoulder.

“For the love of God—”

The car bounced over stones, grass and boulders, driving faster and faster as the lake, a yawning black hole rushed at them.

“God help me.” Miranda stood on the brakes, causing deep ruts in the sand where the tires tried to grab hold. The car hit the water. Hard. Claire hit her head on the roof. Her scream nearly shattered her eardrums as water swirled up to the windows and the engine died.

“Okay, now! Help Tessa!”

Miranda pried her door open and Claire, reaching over her sister, managed the same. Water poured inside. Claire scrambled, coughing, dragging Tessa to the surface, then realized she could stand. She sank past her ankles in the muddy bottom, but her head was still above water.

Harley. Oh, God, Harley, I’m sorry. Heartache pounded through her soul.

“Come on, come on.” Miranda placed a shoulder under Tessa’s limp arm and started back toward the road, trudging through the dark water. “Now what movies did we see?”

“Hang ’Em High.”

“And?”

“Play Misty For Me. Come on, Randa, how’s Tessa going to do this?”

“Tess?” Miranda prodded. No response as they waded knee deep. “Tessa?”

“Dirty Harry,” she whispered.

“But we didn’t see that one, left before it came onto the screen. Remember that. And stick with me; don’t let them split us up.”

Voices seemed to come from nowhere and a pickup, the beams of its headlights glowing in the rain, was idling on the shoulder of the road. A man in a yellow slicker was running toward them.

“Hey!” he yelled, his voice rough and frightened. “Are you all right? For the love of Christ, what the hell happened here? First the Taggert kid and now this!”

So it was true. Claire’s legs felt like lead.

Other cars stopped as the first man reached them and gathered Tessa into his strong arms. “You girls okay? Is there anybody else in the car?”

“Just us,” Randa said. “We . . . we’re all right.”

“You sure?” He swiveled his head in Tessa’s direction, and Tessa smelled the stale odor of beer. “How ’bout you?”

“Fine. I—I’m fine.”