Double Take. Jenness Walker

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      Trespassing. Breaking and entering. What other laws would they break tonight? Though they hadn’t actually broken anything and weren’t planning on robbing anyone, Cole doubted good intentions would win them any favors if they were caught creeping around a stranger’s boathouse.

      Of course, the real question was, what would it do to his job search if anyone found out about his crazy Lone Ranger crime spree?

      “Nothing?” John whispered as Cole stepped away from the boathouse.

      Cole shook his head, and they jogged back to the truck.

      “How many more on this lake?” The rain had soaked through Cole’s clothing, chilling his skin. And they’d only been outside for a few minutes at each stop. How long had the hostage been in the water?

      If this wasn’t all in his head.

      “I think two more. Maybe three.”

      So they’d check two or three more. Then they’d go home, John would get a laugh, and Cole would get a shower. He’d check the news a couple times, throw the book away, wash his hands of the whole thing…and begin an intensive search for his sanity.

      “Here’s the next one.”

      Cole peered through the swishing windshield wipers, but without the headlights on, everything was shadow. Taking a deep breath, he nodded. With John just behind him, he jumped out of the truck, ducking as rain blurred his view, and ran, sticking to the cover of the trees. The dark outline of a boathouse loomed in front of him, but he stopped behind a tree and studied it first as John came up behind him.

      Lightning flared, illuminating a cabin off to the right. No lights. No vehicles. Even so, his steps slowed as he neared the lake. John stayed back, his gun in hand as he kept watch. Stopping under the boathouse’s overhang, Cole peered into a window. His breath fogged the already-cloudy glass. Too dark.

      The door stood a few yards away. Cole gripped the handle; it turned easily, but the door creaked as it opened. The rain on the roof roared loudly enough to cover the sound. Still no movement. Number three—another waste of time. But he stepped inside to double-check. If she was here, she might be unconscious.

      Or dead.

      No one on the deck to the right. He moved to the left, walking softly as he searched the shadows. All clear.

      The rain let up for a moment—a light patter on tin—and he heard something. A soft whine. No, a sob. The voice faded into a whimper as lightning flared.

      A woman in the water. Hands tied to the lift. Hair floating around her shoulders.

      He fumbled for the light switch as she slowly turned toward him, her eyes dark hollows in a face pale as death. “Help…m-me.” Her soft voice trembled almost as much as her body, but she was still conscious, still alive.

      If he could just keep her that way until help arrived.

      “My name is Cole Leighton. We met earlier today.” He kept his voice low and steady, trying to stay calm as he strode to the doorway. “You’re going to be fine.”

      Cole hollered for John and edged closer to the water. The light shone on the lift and her ropes, then her blue-tinged fingers. Wincing, he threw off his jacket while he kept up a one-sided conversation.

      “My cousin John is calling nine-one-one. I’m going to get you out of the water and get you warm, okay? You’ll be fine. Help is on the way.”

      He searched his pockets for the knife he’d taken from the glove compartment. There. He slipped into the cold water, and it hit him mid-chest.

      “What’s your name?” he asked as he waded to her.

      “M-MacKenzie Jacobs.” Her answer was barely above a whisper as he cautiously hooked an arm around her waist. The rope held her up too far—her feet didn’t quite touch bottom.

      “Okay, MacKenzie. I’m just going to keep my arm around you so you don’t sink when I cut the rope, okay? Then you’ll be out of here.” He held her carefully, feeling her violent tremors against his chest. How long had they left her out here? The heat of his anger should warm her in seconds.

      Cole sawed at the thick rope, watching the strands give way. Too slowly. “Come on, come on, come on.”

      The door flew open. MacKenzie didn’t respond. Just stayed with her head resting against his shoulder, shivering uncontrollably.

      SIX

      “Cops are on the way.” A new voice.

      Kenzie didn’t want to move. Just wanted to sleep, to curl up against this wall of warmth, with the strong arm holding her, the steady voice in her ear, the light shining on her. Just wanted to float away…

      “What can I do?”

      She blinked as that other voice spoke again, but let her eyes drift shut. Please be quiet. Please, please…

      “Help me get her out of here. Into the truck.”

      She felt the rumble of the first, familiar voice. The voice that brought the light. Then the pressure was off her arms. Her hands dropped, splashing water into her face. She didn’t react. Couldn’t.

      “MacKenzie? Still with me?”

      Another arm scooped up her legs—she barely felt it, but then she was cuddled closer to that warm wall. The water swirled around her calves. She couldn’t feel her feet. Other hands touched her arms. Tried to pull her away—no. No!

      “She doesn’t want you to let go, Cole.”

      “It’s all right, MacKenzie. John’s a friend.”