Mackenzie was pushed onto her stomach, and she felt Brewler’s knee in her back. A knife ripped through the nylon ties, releasing her wrists and ankles. Then he rolled her on her back, violently pinning her shoulders to the ground with his knees, his hands pressing down hard, painfully holding her wrists near her shoulders.

She tensed her body, getting reading to make a move, focusing all her energy on breaking free.

Then, she saw the flash, followed by the roar of a pistol. Brewler’s grip weakened, he fell backwards. Sabotny kicked, then pushed him toward the deep trench until his lifeless body tumbled to the bottom.

Then Sabotny came back for her, moving slowly, staggering. Mackenzie reached for the Rohrbaugh, fumbling with a numb hand, surprised to find the pistol still in its holster on the inside of her boot. She swung it toward him.

“What the….” he threw himself at her.

She squeezed the trigger. He kept coming. She continued pulling on the trigger until the explosions stopped and the only sound was a mechanical click.

Crumpling to his knees, Sabotny fired back, one shot, and fell face first into the sand.

Mackenzie felt a burning sensation in her chest. She clawed at the duct tape covering her mouth, pulling some of it free, filling her lungs with the cold air coming off the lake, and falling, falling.

47

It was after 6 p.m. when Ray slowly rolled to a stop at the top of his drive. Hannah Jeffers, leaning against the side of her car, was waiting. Ray could see that once again his kayak was strapped to the top of her Subaru.

“Get in the car. Let’s not waste any sunlight.”

“I’ve got to get my gear,” he protested.

“Everything is packed. Your dry suit, fleece, and gear bag are in the back.

“Where will I change?”

“In the car or next to it. It’s not likely that anyone will be around. It’s not like I haven’t seen you au naturel. Besides, I’m a doctor. You can trust me.”

“What about dinner?” asked Ray, continuing to protest.

“Quiche. I ate mine while I was waiting for you. There’s a bottle of mineral water, too. You can eat while I drive. Get in. We’re wasting time.”

Ray pulled off his sport coat, threw it on the back seat, and slid into the passenger seat. “I’ve still got a gun and a badge.”

“Stash them under the seat.”

“That’s not secure enough,” he said.

“Okay, we’ll stuff them in a dry bag and put it in a hatch.” Hannah was already rolling down the drive. “Put your belt on. I don’t want to get pulled over.”

“So what’s going on?” asked Ray, noting Hannah’s agitation.

“Lot’s of stuff. I need to get on the water and drain some of this energy. Eat your quiche before it’s completely cold.”

Ray attacked the food, trying to remember if he had eaten lunch.

“There’s some dark chocolate in the bag, too. Ninety-three percent, just what you like. I only ate half the bar, total self control on my part. Plus I like you.”

Between bites, Ray counseled, “Slow down. The lake’s going to be there.” After a long pause, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“When I’m on the water, I’m okay. I need big, empty places.”

“Me, too,” said Ray.

“I’ve learned a lot by watching you.”

Ray looked across at her. She briefly turned in his direction.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“You know how to control the static. You own a TV, but it’s never on. Classical music is usually playing, the local NPR station. You read more than almost anyone I’ve ever met, and faithfully reflect on your day every evening in a journal. You always have your mind chewing on something. In between, you’re focused on food, making sure the next meal is worth eating. And at the edge is always the lake, the water, paddling or walking the shore. You seem to be able to keep the bad stuff in perspective.” She paused briefly. “I’m not sure how women fit into that scheme, but thank you for letting me into your life, at least a little bit.”

Ray pondered Hannah’s statements. He had never thought about his life in those terms before. She had seemed to nail it. He was still savoring the last bit of chocolate when she pulled into a circular parking area at a road end.

“I’ll undo the boats while you change,” she said, climbing from the car.

After carrying the boats to the water’s edge, they sat quietly for a while, watching the surf, each lost in their own thoughts.

Hannah slid behind Ray, putting her arms around his neck. She pulled him tight and playfully nibbled at an ear, then stood up. “How much light do we have?”

Ray looked at his watch, then at the horizon. “Two hours, with the gloaming, then some moonlight. The lake should be flat by then, and we can paddle in the dark. North or south?”

“South. Get your GPS going. Do five or six miles, then turn back.”

They launched through the surf, Hannah first. Ray pushed her into the waves, then followed. They settled into an easy rhythm, more relaxed than usual. The sun moved toward the western horizon and slowly sank into the gently curving lake.

The light was almost gone when Ray and Hannah neared the take-out point. Ray’s phone, in a protective case under his front deck lines, started to ring.”

“Don’t ruin the moment,” said Hannah. “Don’t give in to the static.”

“It’s Sue, it’s important” he replied. “Raft up with my boat.”

Ray answered and listened as they floated on the still water. He pulled his GPS from the deck and illuminated the screen.

“We’re about two miles south. I see the fire. It’ll take us about 20 minutes. Get all the resources in place. When I’m in position, I’ll text you. Come down the beach fast, lights and sirens, on. That should create enough of a diversion for me to make a move.”

“What’s going on?”

“Something bizarre. There was an apparent kidnapping, a possible hostage situation. We’re going toward that bonfire. Get my gun.” He leaned over Hannah’s boat, holding onto her deck lines, steadying the two kayaks, so she could pull open his back hatch cover. She passed him the dry bag and re-covered the hatch. Ray pulled the pistol from the bag and stuffed it in the top of his PFD. “We need to paddle fast. We’ll land where a stream dumps into the lake. We’ve been there before. Sue’s going to create a diversion, and I’ll see if I can get to the hostage. Stay with the kayaks until I yell.”

Ray and Hannah paddled furiously along the shoreline, 30 or 40 yards from the edge of the beach. As they neared the area of the bonfire, shots rang out. Ray paused, grabbed the phone, and hit Sue’s number. “Now Sue. Shots fired. Now.”

He paddled toward shore, releasing the spray skirt, grabbing his pistol as he tumbled from the boat and scrambled up the embankment, cautious at first, then fully standing up to survey the carnage. “Hannah,” he shouted. He held a flashlight for her as she quickly did a triage on the three gunshot victims.

“The guy in the trench is dead. That one,” she motioned, “may be salvageable. This one,” she said, soon after she began checking the woman on the ground, “has a sucking chest wound, and was severely beaten. I need your hand here.” Hannah pointed to the torn flesh with a flashlight. “Enough pressure to keep air from escaping. I’ll be back.”

Ray stayed in position, his hand covering the warm, slick flesh until Hannah and an EMT returned, took over and dressed the gaping wound. They loaded the woman onto a basket stretcher and trotted toward one of a collection of four-wheel drive vehicles waiting on the beach. The other shooting victim, clinging to life, was also quickly carried from the scene. Ray stood on a bluff above the dwindling bonfire, watching the receding lights.

Sue came to his side.

“What just happened?” asked Ray.