Going Under (Wildfire Lake 2)

KT

I pull my hoodie over my head and shake my sleeves down to cover my hands, then steer the Bayliner from the marina. The fishermen left long before midday, and it’s too cold for pleasure boats. I’ve got the whole lake to myself now at nearly six p.m.

“Okay, little lady,” I say to the Bayliner. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I open the throttle in stages, sensitive to any hiccups or hesitation. Once that goes smoothly, I power down, then go from trolling to full speed. The boat performs perfectly, and I smile. A job well done. And, damn, but I do love a job well done.

Feeling accomplished but cold, I take the Bayliner back into the marina. I catch Chloe headed to her car, yoga mat tucked under one arm. “What are you teaching tonight?”

She turns toward me. “Hot yoga. Wanna come? Twenty-six poses over ninety minutes in one-hundred-and five-degree heat. A total detox.”

The heat actually sounds appealing in this weather, but no. Chloe makes it sound deceptively easy, but I did try it for a while when it was offered on the ship, and it’s probably the hardest workout I’ve ever done. “I’ll pass tonight, but another time. How’s the writing coming?”

“It’s messy but beautiful.” Chloe, a self-taught spiritual guru with a huge online following, has already had one blockbuster bestseller and is writing another, not to mention cultivating several membership-based subscription businesses online. She lifts her chin toward the boat. “How’s she running?”

“Great. Another one to check off the list.”

Chloe shakes her head. “I’ve never met anyone who works harder than you do.”

“I know exactly how hard you work.” This is a common argument among the three of us—we all think the others work harder than we do. “Go on, get out of here. Don’t keep your students from their torture.”

I shut down the boat and secure her in the slip, then pick up all my tools and start toward the shed. My cell rings while my hands are full, and I barely pick it up before it goes to voicemail. I don’t have time to look at the screen, but I’m hoping it’s Laiyla inviting me to have dinner with her and Levi. I’m starving, and I haven’t made it to the store recently.

I dump my tools on a workbench. “Hello.”

“KT? It’s Violet.”

“Hey, there.” My mind veers toward Ben. I haven’t seen or heard from him since he and I were right where I am now, kissing. And that was entirely too long ago. I’ve just about given up hope we’ll ever get past first base. “What’s up?”

“Um, well, our toilet is overflowing, and my babysitter doesn’t know how to stop it.”

“Dad’s at work?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Be right there.” My stomach is not happy with me, but it will have to wait. I grab my snake and a few other tools and head to their house.

Violet greets me at the door and waves me in. “It’s the downstairs one.”

A young woman is sitting on the sofa, her nose in her phone. When she looks at me, I see she’s more of a teenager than a young woman.

“Hi, I’m KT.”

Instead of responding to me, she frowns at Violet. “You shouldn’t just let people into the house.”

“I called her to help with the toilet,” Violet says.

The babysitter doesn’t seem to care either way.

Two young girls who could only be Poppy and Jazz lie on the floor in front of cartoons that are, in my opinion, inappropriate for their age.

I follow Violet into the bathroom and find water covering the floor of a half bath, the toilet bowl filled to the brim. But what is most puzzling is that the water is clean. And what annoys me most is that the babysitter is just letting water soak the floor and seep into the neighboring carpet of a bedroom. “Violet, grab me some towels.”

I take off the top of the tank and inspect the parts, which all look fine. Violet returns, and we lay down t

he towels to soak up most of the water.

“Daddy!” the two younger girls say in unison.