“So what did the doctor say?” he asked Gram once he had her seated at the kitchen table with a sandwich and glass of milk.

“They couldn’t find anything wrong,” Jo said, answering for Gram.

“You don’t sound too happy about that,” Gram said, but before Jo could respond, Gram continued. “The doctor thought it might’ve been a panic attack.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Kevin said.

“No, it doesn’t.” Jo crossed her arms. She suspected Gram had pulled one over on them, but most of all on Sheriff Borg. Maybe Gram had thought she was protecting Caroline by drawing attention to herself and away from her granddaughter. Jo had to admit, it seemed to have worked. Caroline remained suspiciously quiet. She looked over at her daughter. She was wearing a baseball cap, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. The front of her baseball shirt was stained with dirt.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Caroline said, and kissed Gram’s cheek before rushing into her bedroom.

Kevin picked up the guitar he had brought inside with him.

“Where did you get that?” Jo asked.

“I found it in the back of the closet when I was cleaning,” Gram said. “It has to be his. No one else plays. Why don’t you play something for us?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s a bit out of tune,” he said.

Jo bit her bottom lip. Kevin and his damned guitar had wooed her, charmed Gram, and enticed women in general every single time. Sure, he was handsome, strong, and lean, but put a guitar in his hands, and he became so much more. What was it about a music man? Whenever he played the thing, his passion, his voice, moved her in ways she didn’t want to think about. Hell, she wanted to throw her bra at him before he even plucked the first chord. Then again, she wasn’t wearing one.

“I’m going to shower,” she said.

*   *   *

Her mouth tasted funny, and the scent of antiseptic, a hospital smell, lingered on her skin. She tied her hair up and let the cool water wash away the muck of the day. In the kitchen Kevin played a couple of chords. She closed her eyes. He may have been able to bait her with his music, but she had to admit, she had been the one who seduced him.

She had lured him to the private beach on the other side of the lake and removed her bikini. She stood before him naked and exposed, only sixteen years old, wanting to explore this power she possessed but didn’t quite understand. She had wanted him to see her, all her soft spots and sharp edges as only he could see her, this sensitive boy who she suddenly desired.

He had seemed frightened at first, unable to move, but drinking her in at the same time, almost drowning in the sight of her. How she had toyed with him, using her body, her sex, moving in close, so close she could feel his breath on her lips.

When she touched his chest, he gasped, his skin quivering beneath her fingertips. His whole body trembled when she pressed up against him. It was as though he was afraid to touch her for fear she’d disappear. When he finally did reach for her, his hunger was like nothing she had ever experienced, his appetite for every inch of her, insatiable.

When it was over and he lay next to her in the sand, weak and out of breath, he had wept. She felt beautiful and powerful embracing her sexuality like never before, a woman desired like no other. In the days that followed, they had become addicted to the sex, to each other, and neither could stop if they had wanted.

She became the fool between two lovers like in the old song from the seventies the jukebox played. She should’ve known nothing good could come from a craving so strong.

*   *   *

She punched off the water in the shower. A woman’s voice came from the kitchen, asking about the ambulance and whether Gram was okay. It wasn’t surprising. Half the colony came out to gawk and gossip. It was typical, and Gram could more than handle herself with a few nosy neighbors.

Jo thought about Sara and Patricia, Pattie, and her own bit of news. She’d have to tell Kevin what she had learned, but she wanted to talk to Heil first, to get the men back on the lake and searching.

She slipped into clean clothes and sneaked out the back porch, making sure the door didn’t slam behind her.

*   *   *

Jo’s hands were clammy by the time she had reached the Pavilion. The place was lit up, the jukebox blared, the sound of laughter rang through the air. She marched up the steps, grateful they were empty. On any given night, Johnny and his gang might have been hanging out drinking beer and smoking cigarettes and doing whatever else she didn’t let herself think about.

Inside, the pool tables were crowded with kids. The Needlemeyer twins looked her way as she strode past. The snack stand was open. On the second-floor bar she heard the scraping of barstools and felt the vibrations of pounding, dancing feet.

She pushed Heil’s office door open without knocking. He was sitting behind a cheap-looking desk next to a metal filing cabinet. Several mounts hung on the wall—lake trout, pike, big-mouthed bass. A couple of fishing poles were tucked in the corner of the room. His face registered surprise. His greasy head glowed under the bright light. He leaned back in the chair, exposing the expanse of his stomach, and slipped his hand underneath the waistband of his shorts, tapping his thumb on his bloated belly.

“What can I do for you?” he asked. “Although, after the way you barged in here, doesn’t make me want to do much.”

“Patricia is Pattie Dugan. She’s one of us,” she said, ignoring his snide remark and his hand in his shorts.

“Pattie Dugan. Now why does that name sound familiar?”

“Bob and Jean Dugan. They were lake regulars for years. Patricia is their daughter. She’s Pattie Dugan.”

He shrugged. “And what of it?”

“She’s not some outsider. She’s not a one-season wonder. And we have to do everything we can to help her.”

He raised his hands as if to say, Why?

She stared at him, confused by his nonchalant attitude. It suddenly occurred to her that he knew all along who Patricia was. He knew and it hadn’t mattered. “You knew all this time.”

“Of course I knew. I make it my business to know everything about everybody who comes to my lake.”

“It’s not your lake.”

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong.”

She rubbed her brow. She didn’t want to get into the same tiresome argument about lake ownership. She didn’t see the point, not now. “You have to get the men back on the lake, searching. You have to find her daughter,” Jo said. “She’s one of us.”

“Do I?” Heil placed his hands square on the desk. He leaned forward. The chair creaked under his weight. He narrowed his eyes. “One of us? Is that who you think you are?” he asked. “Your family, your mother, especially, has given me nothing but trouble since she bought that cabin. So let’s get something straight. You’re not one of us. You never were.”

Jo was taken back. “My family has nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, I think they do,” he said. “Have you talked with your daughter? If anyone is to blame for stopping the search, it’s the kids who messed with those traps.”

“She had nothing to do with that.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he said. “I can’t prove it. I can’t prove a lot of things that happen on my lake—not legally anyway—which brings me around to you.” His eyes roamed her body.

She crossed her arms, covering her breasts. “What about me?”

“Don’t play innocent with me. You may have fooled everyone else around here, but I know who you really are. I know what you’re capable of.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

He leaned across the desk. “I hear you like it rough.”

“You’re disgusting.” She took a step back.

“Am I?” He came up out of his seat and leaned farther across the desk, his large stomach resting on top, his eyes narrowing to mere slits. “You don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing with those boys under my Pavilion steps? On my beach? Why don’t you tell me what really happened to Billy Hawke?”