Going Under (Wildfire Lake 2)

I half laugh, half sob and wrap her in my arms. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I send the prayer out to whoever or whatever is out there—the universe, angels, God. I don’t care. I’m just so grateful, I can barely breathe.

When I pull my shit together, I pick Jazz up and start toward her house. “How did you leave your house, honey? The front door?”

“No. I was looking for Violet in the backyard.”

I think of the fencing surrounding the yard. Jazz isn’t tall enough to reach the gate latch. “How did you get out of the backyard?”

“There’s a loose board by the gate.”

Jesus. This is the perfect fucking storm. A persistent five-year-old, a deep, cold lake, and a neglectful babysitter.

She chatters about school, her teacher, her friends. I soak in every word, even more shaken in the aftermath now that my mind has time to conjure everything that could have gone wrong and led to a tragedy here today.

I enter through the front door, which isn’t locked, and by the time I reach the living room where Isabel is sprawled on the sofa, her face in her phone, I’m livid.

I put Jazz down just as Poppy and Violet come down the stairs. Their eyes are wide, darting between me and Jazz.

“What’s going on?” Violet asks.

By now, Isabel has righted herself and is actually scowling at me. “Hey, you can’t just come in here.”

“Girls, I need to talk to Isabel privately. Wait in your rooms, please. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

I don’t wait for the girls to obey before I gesture the self-absorbed teenager into the guest room where I shared an unforgettable night with Ben. As she walks through the doorway, I snatch her phone from her hand and close the door behind us.

“Hey, that’s mine.” She lunges for her phone. She’s at least my weight, and she’s got a couple of inches on me too, but if this kid thinks she’s going to push me around, she’s got a steep learning curve coming.

“You’re not getting this back until we talk. Try to take it again, and I’ll call the cops and tell them you attacked me. Feel like spending the night in juvie, Isabel?”

She backs down, but she’s pissed. “What happened? And what business is it of yours?”

“You didn’t do your job, that’s what happened. And it’s my business when a kid wanders into danger on my property.”

It might not technically be my property, but I certainly have ownership in it.

She crosses her arms and hikes her chin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“While your face was in your phone, Violet and Jazz were playing hide-and-seek, and Violet hid so well that Jazz wandered into the backyard looking for her, then down to the docks, all by herself.”

This is the first time I realize Jazz walked along a public street alone, and a fresh wave of panic burns straight through me. “That is exactly how children get abducted, Isabel. This is how children die.”

I’m having absolutely no mercy on this girl. She’s old enough to know better. Old enough to take responsibility for her mistakes. Old enough to learn a hard lesson.

“That’s not my fault,” Isabel says.

I take a step toward her, get in her face, and raise my voice. “That’s entirely your fault. You are being paid to keep those girls safe, not to fuck around with your friends over Snapchat.”

The curse, my tone, or my aggressive move jolts her a little. “I wasn’t—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me. I’m not an idiot. I know exactly what you were doing.”

The surliness starts to slide out of her expression. She swallows and takes a half step back. I take a full step forward. I want this to be a severe emotional event for this kid. I want her to be so traumatized that she never allows harm to come to any other kid that is ever entrusted to her, including her own.

“How do you think your mom would feel if you didn’t come home tonight?”

She takes another step back, a big one. “I don’t know what you mean.?

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