Lotus Effect

She’s waiting for me.

I key the ignition with a shaky hand and crank the car. Once I’m backed out, the other car—a sleek, black Toyota—pulls ahead, turning right out of the hotel. Steeling my nerves, I follow the car onto the main road.

We coast on the highway like this for an hour, me muttering to myself, scolding myself for my lunacy—which I can only blame the witching hour for my rash choice—when I realize where the woman is leading me.

My head beams illuminate the road sign for Silver Lake.

An oily film coats my stomach. I glance at the passenger seat, at my phone. Steering one-handed, I grab the device and type out a quick but detailed text to Rhys. My thumb hovers over the Send button…

The black car flips on the blinker.

I set the phone on the seat. I leave the message app open, just in case I need Rhys to know. I made a note of the car, the license plate, and a vague description of the woman driving.

Even though I didn’t name her specifically, he’ll come to the same conclusion; Chelsea. It was Rhys’s theory, after all. Regardless of his reluctance to profile a woman killer, Chelsea had motive.

Piece it together:

My pregnancy stood in the way of her marrying Drew.

The first note was meant to scare me away when I survived the attack.

We will have to find a connection to investigate—but Drew may have known Joanna Delany intimately. Another possible threat to Chelsea, or simple jealousy.

The newest notes: the author didn’t want us investigating Joanna’s cold case.

Cam’s confession, once confirmed, would have revealed that Chelsea was not Drew’s alibi, therefore Chelsea is now without one for the night of my attack.

The method in Cam’s murder was different; the perpetrator purposely spared her unborn baby. A show of remorse.

Which goes back to: who pulled me from the lake? Only a killer, who suffers a conflicting bout of guilt, would rescue their victim. And the evidence states that there was no one else there that night. Just me and my killer.

All the pieces are there…they just have to be linked.

So whatever this woman has to say to me now, I’m ready—I’m ready to face my killer.

Following two car-lengths behind, I make the turn into the Dock House parking lot.

I hang back, my hands gripped to the wheel, as the Toyota parks in the spot nearest the water. My breathing is too loud in the silence of the car. My chest prickles as adrenaline crashes my system.

I go for the band around my wrist, needing the sharp bite of pain to ground me, and find my wrist bare. “Dammit.” Okay. Think. I dip sideways, losing sight of the car for only a few seconds, as I search the glove box.

Rhys is always prepared. For anything. I riffle through the items until I find the roll of coins and tape. As I situate myself in the driver’s seat, I eye the car as I grip the roll and wrap my hand with the bandage tape.

The car door swings open, she exits, and I quickly pull my hair back into a low bun, feeding a strand through the knot to hold it in place. If this comes down to a scuffle, I want to at least be prepared to fight. I watch her walk toward the dock. I slip my phone into my back pocket and check the handcuffs I stuffed in my front pocket.

I open the door.

It’s been years since I was last here, when Rhys brought me back, and nothing has changed. The Dock House is a wormhole in time. Untouched. String lights canopy the outside deck. A makeshift tiki hut stands center, sporting a wraparound bar. A plank stage two feet off the deck floor makes up the backside, where bands play live music. The same jukebox still separates the outside bar from the inside seating area.

Nausea engulfs my senses, and I fight down the bile trying to choke me. Last time, I was stronger. Last time, I had Rhys by my side. I wasn’t facing this dread alone.

I’m seconds away from giving in to the fear when I spot her on the pier. Hands tucked into a gray trench coat, her back to me, she looks out over the lake, her countenance just as serene as the still water.

My blood ignites.

This woman who has taken so much from me…

I let the anger take root, chasing back the tremors of fear. Gripping the coin roll in a tight fist, I head toward her, not softening my footfalls. I stop in the middle of the dock, inhale a fortifying breath.