We made our way to the road but Jake stopped short. I almost bumped into him.

“What are you doing?”

He pointed to the rental car parked in the gravel driveway. “Looking at this.”

I leaned around him so I could see what he was staring at. The back passenger tire of the rental was completely flat.

“How on earth did that happen?” I asked, moving closer to the car. “I must have run over a nail or something coming home from grocery shopping.”

“And house hunting,” Jake added. He crouched next to the tire, running his fingers along the surface.

“Maybe we can patch it up,” I said hopefully. I thought back to the single street of shops in the neighboring town. I didn't remember seeing an auto repair shop.

“Pretty sure this isn't patchable.” He looked at me and jerked his head toward the tire.

I squatted next to him. “What is it?”

“This tire was slashed.”

Sure enough, there was a long, thin cut in the rubber, about three inches wide. Definitely not patchable.

“Someone did this on purpose?” I asked.

“Sure looks that way,” Jake said, sighing. “I'll call AAA and see if they can get someone out here. I'm pretty sure rental cars are covered.”

“They'll have to tow it somewhere though, won't they?” I straightened and rubbed at the small of my back. “I mean, they're not just going to bring a tire here and change it out for us.”

“I don't know,” Jake said. “I'll call them now.” He pulled out his phone and his wallet and, within minutes, was talking to a representative about our options.

I crouched down to examine the tire again. It was definitely a knife that had sliced through the rubber. My thoughts immediately turned to Hackerman; I wouldn't have put it past him to damage our property, especially after our run-ins with him. He didn't like me or Jake, which gave him double the reasons necessary for vandalizing our property.

But that didn't make a ton of sense, given the conversation we'd had. He wanted us gone, plain and simple. Knifing our car—our only way in and out of Windy Vista—seemed counterproductive.

Maybe it had been the twins, Mary and Carrie. They were crazy enough to do it. And they probably felt like they had motivation, considering I'd discovered their ex-boyfriend dead in the woods.

“Done,” Jake said, shoving the phone back into the pocket of his khaki shorts. “They'll send a tow truck here this afternoon. There's a repair shop about twenty miles from here. I told her where we were and how we didn't have the ability to pick it up so they'll arrange to have it towed back for a nominal fee.”

I nodded. “Okay. That sounds reasonable.”

“Much more reasonable than whatever idiot hacked at our tire.” There was a frown permanently etched on to his face.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing his hand. “Let's go for our walk. Forget about the tire and the car. It's a vacation, remember?”

He mumbled something under his breath but he let me pull him along, toward the road and then down toward the clubhouse.

We saw small groups of campers making their way down toward the pool and clubhouse, too, chattering as they walked. They all seemed to be heading their with a purpose. One of the ladies who'd been doing water aerobics was walking and I asked her what was going on.

“Summer Olympics,” she said brightly. Her short brown hair was wet and I wondered if she'd just finished another round of swimming. “It's an annual thing. All kinds of games and stuff. You don't want to miss it.”

Jake shot a look in my direction and I lifted my hands in surprise.

“Thought you memorized the activities,” he said in a low voice.

“Well, clearly I missed one.”

We followed the horde of campers down to the pool and noticed the set up immediately. The pool's parking lot had been turned into what looked like a carnival set-up. There was a basketball hoop, a ring toss, a long jump area, a ping pong table and a variety of other carnival like games. Streamers and balloons were hung up all along the pavilion and music blasted from a set of speakers that had been carted in. I wondered if Stan the DJ was stationed behind the music table.

“Ping pong's an event?” Jake asked, his eyebrows raised. “I could totally win that.”

Jake adored ping pong. I didn't think he'd ever walked past a table and not picked up a paddle and played anyone willing to give it a go. He really wanted to clear out our basement so we could get our own table and set it up down there. And because he was very good at it, no one ever wanted to play him. I think he envisioned himself as one of those guys from China who swung as hard as they could and somehow managed to keep the ball on the table. It was amusing to watch, but it was not amusing to have him as an opponent.

I patted his shoulder. “Go find out how to win the ping pong championship, honey.”

Maybe it would take his mind off murder and mayhem and slashed car tires. I smiled to myself. Who was I kidding? He didn't need any help pushing those things out of his mind. I did.

He gave me a grim smile and wandered over in that direction.

I took stock of the rest of the games set up. Half of them were designed for kids and half were designed for adults. I semi-recognized several faces, as all of the volunteers running the games were campers at the resort. There were prizes for both kids and adults, cheesy fun prizes that were worth more in bragging rights than in actual value. It was the kind of thing where you could really see the community that Delilah had built, with people smiling, kids laughing and cheering and it felt like everyone knew one another. I felt a pang of sadness for her as I remembered her words from the previous day. It was hard to imagine that this might be the last Summer Olympics, that the campground might be shuttering its doors forever, that the sense of camaraderie among the campers was something fleeting and delicate, at the mercy of hard numbers and cold facts. I didn't want to think about those things. I just wanted to concentrate on how nice it was to feel like we were a part of it.

However, an hour later, I wasn't sure being a part of it was such a good idea.

Jake entered the ping pong tournament and, like I figured, won every single match easily. He was a shoe-in for the ping pong championship. He was covered in sweat and smiling as he waited for his opponent. But when I saw who walked out to face him in the final match, I got a little nervous.

Actually, a lot nervous.

Because Wayne Hackerman stepped up to the other side of the table, a red, white and blue headband on his head, the mirrored sunglasses on his face, and a fancy-looking paddle in his hand.

“Are you kidding me?” I said, coming up next to Jake before they started. “That guy?”

Jake grinned at me. “I know, right? Can you believe my luck?”

“Your luck?”

His eyes widened. “I'm going to crush him.”

“Remember karaoke night?” I whispered to him. “Can we please not have a repeat of that?”

“There won't be a repeat,” he informed me. “Because I'm going to crush him.”

“Can you stop yakking with your coach so we can get on with it?” Hackerman snarled from the other side of the table. “Won't take but a couple minutes and then you can go back to whispering with the little lady.”

Little lady.

“Crush him,” I growled.

Jake nodded and spun the paddle in his hand.

Ten minutes later, Jake was up 11-2 and smiling like the cheshire cat in front of the crowd that had gathered to watch.

“What's the score again?” Jake asked across the table. “I forget.”

Wayne Hackerman was red-faced, sweaty and seething. “You know what the score is, pal.”

“I just want to make sure so there's no confusion,” Jake said innocently. “Twelve to two, right?”

“Eleven!” Hackerman snarled. The volunteer keeping score, an elderly man who looked ready to pass out from the heat, nodded weakly. “Eleven to two. Now serve the damn ball.”