"I was school champion," Owen said modestly, picking up the oars. "That was a while ago, but I've kept in shape since then. Or tried to, anyway."
The oars cut through the water. Immediately, May saw this plan would work, and they could get far enough to see what they needed to.
With her partner rowing them quietly and steadily, she could feel her excitement rising. They could do this. It would work.
All they needed to do was to find a vantage point where the killer might have lurked.
"Keep to the shoreline, I think," May advised, as Owen put all his energy into getting the rowboat moving. It slid through the water smoothly as they circled around, hugging the shore.
"We're looking for a place where the killer could see people on the water," she explained. "A place where he could hide, while still getting a good view."
"Got it," Owen said.
They paddled in silence, going around the shoreline which May was utterly sure Adams would describe as quaint, with its trees and walkways and colorful cottages, cabins, and boat houses. But among all this quaintness, an evil and violent killer was lurking. How could she find him? Where would he hide? What lookout point would he use?
“What about that place?” Owen said. “That’s got a good view of the lake, and it looks – well, it looks the way I imagined his place would. It definitely stands out from the others.”
May narrowed her eyes.
The place Owen was pointing to did look likely. It was different from all the well-kept, colorful homes. This was an old, ramshackle-looking cabin, right on the edge of the lake.
A coil of smoke curled from the chimney.
"Go closer," May muttered. She'd seen something in front of the house.
It was a big, bulky, gray-haired man.
He was crouched in a deck chair, holding a pair of binoculars.
As May watched, shocked, he raised the binoculars and surveyed the lake. He focused on one of the speedboats as it splashed past, a couple of hundred yards away. Looking between the man and the boat, May saw that he was watching the two young, blonde girls sailing it.
Her heart sped up. This behavior was extremely suspicious, and it was exactly what she’d thought they should look for.
Now that May knew what she was seeing, she felt certain this was the killer's vantage point.
“I think it’s worth investigating this guy further,” Owen said in a low voice.
May agreed. But simply rowing up to his front yard and wading to shore didn’t seem like the correct way to do it. It would be better to knock on his door and make it a formal visit.
“Can you row over to that pier nearby? Then we can walk around to his house,” May asked.
Owen dug the oars in again, rowing quickly and quietly to the nearby pier.
“What’s our game plan with this guy? You want to confront him?" he asked.
That was a good question and, again, May realized that whatever she did, she would need to be careful. She wasn’t sure how much leeway she had in terms of her powers. But at any rate, the first step would be to find out more about this man. She wanted to know who he was, and then, if possible, whether he had an alibi for the time that Cassandra Cole was taken.
"I don't want to arrest the wrong person. We can't afford to. We don't have that luxury," she confessed. “We probably shouldn’t be making an arrest at all. I don’t know if we have the jurisdiction to do that, with the FBI involved.”
"So if he's the right person, then what?"
"Then I guess we'll see," May said, feeling nervous at the prospect.
If he was looking guilty by that stage, then May guessed she’d need to call Kerry and Adams to make the arrest. That wasn’t ideal, but it was the only plan she could think of.
Owen expertly maneuvered the boat to the pier. Then he jumped out and secured it while May followed him.
The two of them walked down the pier and then headed along the pathway, to join the access road that ran behind the houses.
After a short walk along the shady road, May found what she was looking for. It was a narrow vehicle track, that veered off in what she thought was the right direction. It should lead to the cabin.
“Let’s head this way,” she said.
But at that moment, from the home they were passing, she heard a woman's voice.
"Hello there!" The shrill sound pierced the late afternoon gloom.
May spun around.
A woman with a gray beehive hairdo was watching them from the wooden back porch of her home.
"Are you lost?" she called.