Page 72 of No Place Left to Hide

And what about Claire? I look across at the empty expanse of water in front of me. The waves are dark and undisturbed. She hasn’t surfaced, but she will, and then there’ll be questions. Someone will come looking for her.

My injured arm throbs as I use it to help keep me above the surface.Shit, shit, shit.

Will Jena remember she got on the boat?

Will she rememberIwas on the boat?

Fuck, whereisJena?

I pull myself up the swim ladder and out of the water. My hands slip on the railing a few times, but I get on board and skirt around the motor. The bottom of my dress drips water down my legs but they’re so numb I don’t feel it. I peek over the back bench seat.

Jena’s not lying on it anymore.

Fuck.

I climb over the back of the seat and find her sprawled across the deck, half under the steering wheel and half under the other forward-facing chair.

I drop down beside her. “Jena?”

She doesn’t answer me. Her braids are twisted around her face and when I pull them back, there’s a huge lump forming on the side of her head, by her temple. But she’s breathing. The impact of the boat must have thrown her into the back of the captain’s chair when it pitchedusinto the water.

I tug her out into the middle of the open deck, and still she doesn’t wake. I check again that she’s breathing. She is. She’ll need a doctor if she doesn’t wake up soon though…and I can’t call for help without alerting everyone to the crash and bringing this whole night down around me.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to undo this.

I bring my knees up to my chest and hyperventilate into them.

And then, like a guardian angel, I hear my dad’s voice whispering through the panic:Damage control. Clean it up. Spin it. There’s no situation that can’t be made to benefit you.I’ve heard him say it countless times. It’s his most frequently used client mantra, and it works. Almost every time. He makes his living protecting people from the law. I’ve seen him get clients out of worse situations than this.

He can help me.

The potential for salvation has me leaping back to my feet and racing for the wheel. The engine is still idling around the sandbar. It takes a minute to reverse off it and into deeper water, but once we’re turned around, I gun it toward the lake house.

When we’re close to the dock, I cut the engine and let us drift the rest of the way. I leap off the side with one of the lines in my hand and hit the dock hard, but I don’t fall. I pull the boat up against the rubber bumpers still hanging over the sides and sloppily loop the rope around the dock tie. Once it’s secure, I run full speed toward the house.

The yard is quiet. The house is quiet. Even the lake seems to have calmed, like it’s accepted a sacrifice and gone to sleep. My heavy breaths sound like shouts in the night.

I take the deck stairs two at a time and rush inside, ripping open the drawer I stashed my phone in during the party with a loud crash of silverware. I scroll through my contacts but stop short of dialing.

Cell phone calls can be traced. I drop it on the counter and spin around.

From the island, Claire’s shiny silver phone glints at me. I snatch it up and quickly type in her birthday. The phone unlocks and I almost cheer. She hasn’t changed her passcode.

My dad answers on the second ring.

“Hello?” he barks.

“Dad.” My voice shakes, and I clear my throat.

“Brooke? Do you have any idea what time it is? I have interview prep in the morning.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But I really need you. Something happened.”

There’s a rustling on the other side and I wonder if he’s getting out of bed. “Something like what? Aren’t you at Jena’s house? And whose number is this? Where’s your phone?”

The severity of his voice chills my insides more than these wet clothes ever could.

“I’m not at Jena’s. I’m at the lake house.”

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