The Seal's Return. Patricia Potter

They ignored her every effort to point out interesting landmarks. Both her siblings were stone-faced in the backseat. Gordon played with his phone, and Kerry’s nose was stuck in a book even though it made her carsick.

      At least it was an improvement over Gordon’s bitter threats to run away and stay in Chicago. Only the knowledge that he might be sent to juvenile detention had kept him with her. But his resentment was like a poisonous haze in the car.

      They reached Covenant Falls at noon on the second day, after an uncomfortable night at what she considered a “Bates” motel. Lisa drove directly to their house, parking in the driveway. She stepped out of the car and onto the porch. The key was under a flowerpot as promised.

      Kerry left the car and joined her, looking around with a curiosity she obviously tried to downplay.

      “We have a fenced yard,” Lisa said. “Maybe we can get that dog you’ve been wanting.”

      Kerry’s face lit up. “Really?”

      Lisa had planned to wait until they were settled to make the peace offering, but Kerry was too far under her brother’s angry influence. “I already asked if it would be okay. I think you’re old enough now to take care of one.”

      A smile touched her sister’s blue eyes. “When?”

      “In the next few days. I understand there’s a dog rescue group here, and they have adoptable pets.”

      “Traitor.” Gordon had left the car and approached from behind. “Bought off by a dumb dog,” he said derisively to his sister.

      Lisa spun around. “I’ve had enough, Gordon. We’re here because of you. You either shape up and stop making our lives miserable, or go back to jail in Chicago. Your choice!”

      He looked startled, and Kerry looked scared. Lisa immediately regretted the words. She loved Kerry. Loved both of them. They were good kids, but they’d had one blow after another with the death of their parents.

      “Come inside,” she told Gordon in a softer tone. “I’m not your enemy. I know I haven’t been around much, but I’m here now and I’m going to do everything I can to help you.”

      It was a plea that didn’t change Gordon’s face. He shrugged. “As if I have a choice.”

      “After getting your things put away inside, why don’t you take your bike and look around?” she suggested. “There’s a lakeside park, community center and ball fields less than a mile away. There’s also a drive-in in the same area.”

      “I don’t have any money,” he complained.

      She gave him ten dollars when he finished bringing in his stuff. “Be back at five p.m. for dinner, okay?”

      He grunted something that she took as agreement.

      It was better than nothing.

      She only hoped it was a start. A new beginning in a house where memories and grief weren’t in every corner.

      * * *

      JUBAL JERKED AWAKE a little after midnight. Plagued by smothering nightmares, he preferred sleeping outside in the comfortable lounge chair to being confined by four walls.

      He was stiff, but walked down to the lake. Moonlight painted the surface silver. The water was probably ice cold, but he doubted it was any colder than the frigid Pacific where he had done his SEAL training and where he had continued to swim whenever he returned to base.

      He went back to the cabin and changed into his swimming trunks. He grabbed a towel and jogged out to the lake. There was no sign of life anywhere around him, and the lake water was clear and still.

      He judged the water to be five feet deep at the end of the dock. He made a shallow dive and started swimming.

      The contact was like an electric shock to his body that woke all his senses. His strokes grew stronger, and the chill subsided. He swam to the other side of the lake, relishing every stroke as he skimmed through the water. The exercise stimulated him and chased the ghosts from his head as he concentrated on each stroke.

      When he returned to the dock, he easily lifted himself onto the planks. He shivered now he was out of the water, and jogged back to the cabin. After a hot shower, he still felt energized from the swim.

      It was time to explore his new location. He planned to stay two or three days at the most, but exploring a new territory was second nature to him. He slipped on running shorts and a T-shirt.

      Jubal stepped outside and started running. His vision was not as good as it once was, but there was enough moonlight that he could see as well as most civilians could during daylight.

      He ignored the pain that persisted in his joints from months of beatings and near-starvation. He tried not to think about that time. It already haunted his dreams; he wouldn’t allow it to haunt his waking hours.

      He started at a slow pace, then increased his speed. He’d studied the town from the mountain and memorized the street patterns. He intended to start making an outside circle of the town, then ever smaller circles until he ended up at the park.

      There were several streetlights in that area. He noticed an obvious memorial but decided to check it out later. He ran north of Main Street, past what appeared to be the prestigious area of town. Most of the homes were brick two-story structures with either wraparound or broad front porches.

      Then he turned east, ran through another residential neighborhood. Smaller homes, smaller lots, but all neat and well maintained. He continued eastward past larger lots and ranch houses, most with small stables or barns. He remembered Clint telling him the mayor owned horses.

      He turned back toward the south. Then saw a police car following him. He stopped. Waited. A man running in the wee hours of the morning would, most likely, raise suspicions.

      The car slowed. A young man poked his head out. “Mr. Pierce?”

      Jubal nodded.

      “Thought so. Just wanted to say welcome. I’m Cody Terrell if you need anything. Have a good run.” Then he sped ahead.

      No questions about running half-naked in the middle of the night. News did get around fast. Of course, Clint was chief and probably spread the word. Jubal didn’t know whether he should be irritated or amused. He continued to run and hit the business district—if it could be called that.

      He noted the doctor’s and veterinarian’s offices. There was a light on the second floor of the vet’s office. He passed a grocery and hardware store, then headed back toward the cabin. When he was four houses away, he noted movement on his dock. Not his dock, but the dock where he was currently staying. He glanced around. No parked cars. No lights in any of the nearby dwellings.

      His training and instinct kept Jubal close to the trees as he approached the dock. He saw a flicker of light. A match. The figure was kneeling, and now he saw whoever it was kneeling over a pile of what looked like broken branches. The intruder was so involved in what he was doing he obviously didn’t see Jubal.

      Jubal looked around. He sensed more than saw the slightest movement among the trees behind him. It was a skill that had saved his life more than once. He turned and spotted a second figure who wouldn’t make first grade in surveillance school.

      Jubal heard a warning whistle from the lookout behind him before the figure took off down Lake Road.

      Jubal didn’t wait any longer. The wood on the dock was dry. And as long as he was staying here, he was responsible. He ran toward the dock as the figure stood up. Tall. Slender. Young.

      The figure on the dock was silhouetted against the lake like a deer in headlights. There was no place for him to go except the water, and Jubal knew how cold it was.

      “Don’t even think about jumping in,” he shouted as he started down the dock. “I can swim better than you. And put out that damn fire. Kick the wood in the water.”

      The boy—Jubal was sure