Code Of Silence. Heather Woodhaven
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foot? He’s asking us to go on a wild-goose chase—” he stepped over a spattering of goose droppings “—of which the property clearly has no shortage. But you get my point.”
Her head dropped. “I...I can’t think of a single spot that would be obvious as a place she’d hide something, let alone a place for evidence. They think she would’ve kept it close to her.”
Rodrigo seemed to have no trouble letting them talk as long as they were discussing the property.
“He said he already searched the house.” Gabriella lowered her voice. “But she kept a gun and a journal in her nightstand. Those have to help us.”
Luke didn’t think finding a journal was a high priority, but he didn’t want to argue with Gabriella in this state. The gun was worth going after, and their only hope. “So we’re agreed the first thing we do is get away from this guy and get back to the house.”
She didn’t reply, but Luke took that as agreement. He’d noticed when he pulled up in the driveway that there was a second driveway leading to the back of the house where a shed was built. A shed usually meant tools.
Luke waved toward the lake that wrapped around the south and west sides of the house—providing an almost three-hundred-degree view. The steady breeze sloshed miniature waves up on the shore. “You said it was a man-made lake. Did your mother have it built?” Luke stopped for a moment, allowing Rodrigo to catch up enough to hear his words.
Gabriella squinted. “Yes. She mined the whole property for sand and gravel, then had it built back up to create the water features.”
Rodrigo’s forehead wrinkled, but he said nothing.
Luke addressed him. “What are you going to do if it turns out her mom buried something underneath this lake? Or one of the creeks?”
“Just keep walking,” Rodrigo spat back, but his eyes were on the lake.
Luke tried to keep his smug grin to himself. He’d accomplished his mission to get the guy thinking and worrying over something so he’d be less focused. Luke put a hand on his chest and made a small gesture with his thumb for only Gabriella to see. “Let’s make a sharp turn there,” he whispered, “and make a run for it.”
Her eyes widened. “But he has a gun.”
Luke glanced over his shoulder and gauged the man’s fitness level. His sizeable mass meant he probably didn’t have endurance but could very likely have speed. “Then we pick up the pace. We’ll have two...maybe three seconds at most. I’ll get behind the shed and try to knock the gun out of his hands when he passes. Go in front of me. There’s a back door, right?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t wait for me. Don’t turn back. Go past the shed and get inside the house.” Luke figured this was their best and only shot at getting the gun away from the man. If they walked any further they’d start dealing with uneven terrain and little to no shelter from Rodrigo.
If he succeeded, he’d get his keys back and haul him straight to the police.
Her face paled, but she did pick up the speed ever so slightly. Luke inhaled, and one of his mother’s favorite phrases came to mind. Remember: bravery is just doing what’s right even when it’s scary or hard. Luke hoped the line between bravery and foolishness wasn’t too thin.
Gabriella reached the corner and launched off her back foot into a sprint. She’d taken off too soon. Luke winced and glanced back. She was supposed to have waited until she rounded the corner.
Rodrigo raised his gun. “Hey!”
Luke dashed to the shed—Gabriella had already passed—and grabbed a shovel leaning up against the open door. Rodrigo rounded the corner. Luke flipped the shovel in a high arc, aiming for the gun. Except Rodrigo pointed the weapon, moving his arm. The metal blade hit Rodrigo’s elbow. He howled, and the gun flew backward.
Rodrigo spun and took off after the gun.
“Luke!”
He turned to the sound of Gabriella’s voice. She beckoned him. He ran toward her. There was no way he could beat or overcome Rodrigo’s bulk. “Go!” He didn’t want Gabriella waiting for him. Instead of running toward the back door of the house, she ran in the opposite direction onto a small wooden pier.
“Trust me,” she hollered. Her arms stretched above her head as she pushed off from the dock and disappeared into the water below.
Crack!
Luke covered his head with his hands, but his legs pressed harder and faster forward. He leapt off the pier where he thought he’d seen Gabriella dive. He hoped it was deep enough. As he sliced through the water, a searing hot pain ripped through his thigh.
Gabriella’s lungs burned as she did her best to stay at the bottom of the lake. As an only child she’d developed some unusual skills with all the time alone. She had, for instance, challenged herself to hold her breath for as long as possible every summer.
Her personal best was three minutes, though she’d never imagined it to be useful.
A strong current shoved the hair in front of her face. It had to be Luke. She kicked, swimming forward, until her fingertips touched fabric. While it was hard to see him through the murky water, his limbs flailed. His right arm bumped into her shoulder with a force that almost made her gasp.
Was he drowning? If he panicked, he could take her down with him. She grabbed the back of his suit jacket. It allowed her to stay far enough away he couldn’t smack her as she tugged. She needed to breathe!
She tugged again, and he stopped fighting her. Her chest seized. She wasn’t going to last much longer. The sunlight disappeared. With a final strong kick, she lifted her chin and took a hungry breath underneath the pier. Her heart pounded in her throat. Her temples throbbed.
The slightest light between the slats of decking highlighted the eight inches that separated the underside of the dock and the lapping water. Her nose almost touched the wood as she sucked in another breath. Luke’s head popped up so forcefully his forehead hit the wood.
Please don’t let Rodrigo have heard that.
He hacked, coughed and greedily gasped before hacking some more. Gabriella cringed. She straightened. Her toes dragged against the sand. “Try to stand up,” she whispered. “It’s not as deep here. I’m not tall enough, but I imagine you are. Lift your hands up to help you breathe.”
He coughed up more water. He reached up and grasped the space between the planks with the fingertips of his right hand.
Water poured in several streams from the sleeve of his suit. She needed to get that off him. Gabriella tugged on his left arm. His eyes met hers, and he twisted around, apparently understanding her motive. His breathing grew regular once she’d freed him.
She balled up the fabric in her hand. Slapping feet vibrated the planks. Her heart rate sped as Luke stilled. Gabriella glided next to him. She pressed her cheek against his cold, wet skin and whispered directly into his ear, “Stay here.”
He nodded and muffled his coughing into his elbow. Gabriella hated to go underwater again. Her lungs still hurt, and the strong fish smell wafting off the water didn’t help matters.
She expanded her rib cage as wide as it could go, then sank down low. Her toes pushed off from the sand as she used the dolphin kick to move as far away as her breath would allow. She dove down as close to the bottom as possible, dropped the suit jacket, spun around and kicked hard, back to the deck.
Two seconds later, muffled gunshots pierced the water. Even though she knew she was likely far enough to be safe, each one still gave her a jolt. She kept her hands out in front of her until she saw the lighted pattern from the slats.
Before