Pine Lake. Amanda Stevens

Mona had stepped in, then and years later when the pressure of college had caused the dreams to resurface. She would help again if need be, but their relationship might be trickier now that Olive was her boss.

      Olive’s tiny bungalow was just ahead on the corner of Elm and Holly. As she approached the intersection, she finally gave into her premonition and glanced over her shoulder. It was still early, but not a soul stirred. Even the eateries along East Market Street had already closed their doors for the evening.

      An abandoned air had settled over the town, deepening Olive’s unease. For a moment, she had the terrifying notion that everyone had packed up and left Pine Lake while she’d been working late, readying herself for the coming school year. But she wasn’t completely alone. A dog barked from a fenced backyard and she could hear the idling of a car engine somewhere nearby.

      As she stepped off the curb, headlights flashed on, catching her in the face. She froze like a deer, staring wide-eyed into the bright beams until she heard the engine rev and then she instinctively retreated to the sidewalk. A split second later, a dark sedan sped past her. She didn’t recognize car or driver nor did she get a look at the license plate. The car was going too fast. Reckless driving wasn’t unusual in Pine Lake where drag racing down Main Street on a Friday night was still a popular pastime. But she wasn’t on Main Street and Olive could have sworn the car had deliberately swerved in her direction as it zoomed past her.

      She stood underneath a streetlight, heart thudding as she tried to rationalize the incident. Someone had probably recognized her and decided to have a little fun at the expense of the new principal. She was a small woman and looked years younger than her age so there would be more of the same once school started. No doubt a steady stream of challenges to her authority. She’d better buck up and learn to hide her nerves if she had any hope of making it through the first semester, let alone the whole school year.

      Wiping clammy hands down the sides of her pants, she looked both ways and then hurried across the street to her house. She let herself in and then turned the lock behind her. Dragging over a footstool, she shot home a bolt at the top of the door, a precaution she hoped was unnecessary.

      It was an unusual place for a lock. Designed to keep someone in rather than a dangerous element out.

      * * *

      JACK HAD DECIDED to stop off at a corner bar where he could watch the street. One drink had somehow turned into three and by the time he left, traffic had thinned and darkness was falling. He headed for the shower as soon as he got home, standing for a long time under the steamy water as he tried to banish the barrage of unwanted memories that had kept him drinking at the bar.

      Anna’s face swam up out of the back of his mind. He wanted to remember her the way she’d been the summer he fell in love with her, a gorgeous brunette with a killer smile and legs that went on forever. Instead, he kept seeing her dragged from the lake, lips blue, skin gray, eyes glazed and sightless.

      Senior year was supposed to have been their time, a long goodbye before college took them in separate directions. Jack had been elected captain of the football team; Anna had been the head cheerleader. They were the all-American cliché. In hindsight, even her death seemed banal, the most beautiful girl in school meeting a violent and untimely demise. The news offered up similar tragedies on a daily basis, but for whatever reason, Anna’s story had captivated the national media.

      For a while, Jack hadn’t been able to leave his house without cameras being shoved in his face. His picture had been splashed across tabloids and gossip-style news programs, making him the most hated seventeen-year-old in the country. And then one night, Wayne Foukes had been pulled over for a broken taillight. Among the cache of drugs in his trunk, the police had discovered Anna’s missing class ring.

      Once Foukes was charged, the reporters disappeared, but the people Jack had known his whole life continued to avoid him. It was almost as if they needed to believe him guilty in order to justify their behavior. He’d left town vowing never to return, but now Nathan’s phone call had changed everything.

      Dragging on a pair of jeans, he ambled into the kitchen to scour the refrigerator for dinner. Pickings were slim. He settled on a beer. Later, he’d order in. Watch a movie, crash on the couch. Assuming he’d be able to sleep.

      The night stretched before him, empty and endless. He turned on the Astros game to fill the quiet as he glanced aimlessly around his apartment. The small space, sleek and minimally furnished, boasted a view of the Houston skyline, but it had never felt much like home. Turning up the volume, he took his beer out to the balcony to enjoy the night air. The rain was coming down harder now and he held his hand over the railing to collect a fistful of water.

      He could hear his cell ringing inside and he told himself to ignore it even as he flicked the water from his fingers and stepped back through the door. He picked up the phone from the counter and glanced at the screen. It was a Pine Lake prefix but the number wasn’t Nathan’s. Or at least not the number of the phone he’d called from before.

      Jack carried the phone back out to the balcony with him. “Jack King.”

      “Hello, Jack King. Tommy Driscoll calling.” He gave a low chuckle. “Man, oh, man. I wish I could see your face right now. I must be about the last person you expected to hear from tonight.”

      Pretty damn close. What were the chances he’d hear from his two former best friends on the same night? Jack wasn’t a big believer in coincidences. Something was up. He tried to brace himself, but Tommy Driscoll’s voice took him aback. He sounded exactly the way Jack remembered—loud, jovial, a man always up for a good time. Except now the jollity sounded forced, but maybe Jack’s perception had been tainted by time and Nathan’s innuendoes. Or maybe Tommy Driscoll had never been the easygoing guy Jack had thought him.

      “What can I do for you, Tommy? Or should I call you Sheriff Driscoll?”

      “You heard about that, did you?” He sounded pleased. “Back in our glory days, who would have ever thought a pair of hell-raisers like us would turn out to be cops?”

      “I’m not a cop.”

      “You were, though. Houston PD. See? I’ve kept up with you through the years.” He paused as if expecting Jack to say the same about him. “Now you’re with that outfit I see on the news. The Blackthorn Agency. You guys go into some hairy places from what I hear. Must be exciting. Good money, too, I bet. You’ve done all right for yourself, seems like.”

      In spite of everything, Jack thought. “Why are you calling, Tommy?”

      “I need a favor, buddy. It’s about Nathan.”

      Jack was instantly on alert. “What about him?”

      “Have you heard from him lately?”

      Something in Tommy’s voice prickled Jack’s scalp. “Why would you think I’d hear from Nathan? You guys cut me loose a long time ago.”

      “You sound bitter,” Tommy said.

      “No, just careful.”

      “Can’t say as I blame you, considering the way you were treated. We were all just scared kids back then. I’m not making excuses, but it was a rough time for everyone.”

      Sure sounded like he was making excuses. And the half-hearted apology was only now being extended because Tommy needed something from Jack. Just like Nathan did. He wasn’t about to make it easy on either of them.

      “This is awkward as hell,” Tommy muttered into the loaded silence. “I can’t imagine how strange it must be for you.”

      “No, you can’t.”

      Tommy drew in a sharp breath as if his anger had been goaded. Then he said in a strained voice, “Look, man, I wouldn’t even be bothering you except I think Nathan may be in some trouble. Serious trouble. And now that it’s all coming home to roost, he’s looking for a way out.”

      “What do you mean?”

      Tommy hesitated. “I think he may be trying