“I’m sorry, Ezra.” He whispered it, and if Vaughn heard he did not react. There was some shared responsibility here, and all of his hatred for Devin didn’t blind him to that. Ezra was dead, and Frank had a role in that. He’d come here for blood, and now he’d seen plenty of it, hadn’t he? None from the correct source, though. That was the last thing he could make right, the only thing.
Nora had taken the other boat into the beach of the island, and as they approached Frank could see that she was still in the stern while Renee was onshore.
“What are you going to do?” Vaughn said. He was in the seat beside Frank, hands trembling on his thighs.
“We’re going to get them and get out of here,” Frank said. He’d brought Ezra’s boat in alongside the other, was staring across at Nora, who looked back at him without saying a word. There were red streaks across her face from the tape that had covered her mouth.
“You okay?” he said, dropping the motor to idle, speaking as his boat thumped against hers.
“I’m here,” she said.
“Ezra’s dead.”
She stared at him.
“Vaughn says they shot him. He’s dead.”
Nora didn’t answer. What did he expect her to say, anyhow? He said, “Get in this boat, and we’ll leave that one behind.”
She nodded and got to her feet, and he reached out a hand to help her step over. As he did it, he turned to Renee, who was walking down from the island. She was moving at a fast, confident pace, stepped right into the lake without breaking stride, moving toward his boat, a gun in her hand.
“Hey,” he said. “Get in. We’re leaving.”
She kept walking, the water up to her knees now. She hadn’t even glanced at Frank; her eyes were locked on Vaughn.
“Put that gun down,” Frank said.
She didn’t say a word. Just walked along the boat toward Vaughn. Frank’s own weapon was on the seat, and he turned and reached for it, thinking Vaughn might do the same, but instead Vaughn rose, climbing over the side of the boat and splashing into waist-deep water, moving toward Renee.
“Renee,” he said. He had his hands outstretched, reaching for her. “Forgive me. It was for you. I love you so much, and you could never understand that, you couldn’t see it, baby forgive me I did it because I love you so—”
He was a few feet away, still moving through the water toward her, still reaching for her, when she lifted the gun and fired. The bullet hit him in the temple and knocked him backward, snapped his head back and turned his eyes to the sky before he dropped into the water and then beneath it.
Frank had just gotten his hand on his own gun, and Nora was still standing in the rear of her boat, waiting to step across. She said something, some whispered gasp or oath or prayer, and Frank stood where he was, in a frozen reach for his gun, as Vaughn’s body sank.
“Let go of that.”
Renee’s voice finally tugged Frank’s eyes away from the spot where Vaughn had collapsed into the water, and he saw she was pointing the gun at him now.
“Let go of it and step back,” Renee said. “We’re leaving now. Just like you said.”
Frank opened his fingers and dropped the gun back onto the seat and stepped away.
“Turn off that engine, and go over there and help her in,” Renee said. “I’m not going to hurt either of you. Okay? But you’re taking me back to my husband now.”
Frank cut the engine and walked to the side of the boat and extended his hand for Nora’s. She just stared at him, and Renee said, “Girl, get in the damn boat,” and Nora took Frank’s hand and stepped out of one boat and into the next.
“Okay,” Renee said. “Now help me in. And, please, don’t try to take this gun. We don’t need that. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Frank didn’t move, didn’t speak. Renee stood there in the water holding the gun and staring at him with challenging eyes.
“He shot my husband,” she said. “Shot him, and then brought me up here. I don’t give a damn if you think I was wrong.”
“He deserved it,” Frank said. “Absolutely had earned it.”
She looked at him strangely, and finally nodded. “Yes.”
Her body looked incredibly small under those saturated clothes, her hair plastered against her face and neck, but her eyes were hard and her jaw was set. The gun looked comfortable in her hands, as if she’d held a few before.
“Help me into the boat,” she said. “Now.”
He walked into the bow, and she slogged through the water to get closer. He reached for her and she extended her free hand, grasped his, her palm smooth and slippery with lake water. When he had a firm hold he leaned back and pulled against her weight, not hard, just what was needed to give her an awkward lift and prove she’d need to use the other hand to help. She hesitated, looking once into his eyes as if searching for a sign of treachery, and then she put the gun down on the bow, still in her hand but temporarily useless as she tried to push off and get over the side.
Frank slid his foot over and placed it on her wrist, the fine bones trapped under his heel.
“Don’t,” she said, looking back at him. This time her face changed as she saw what was in his eyes now, what she’d missed in her first study.
“Let go,” he said.
“Stop. I told you I wasn’t going to hurt—”
He shifted his weight, pressed down on her wrist, and her words cut off in a gasp and then her fingers loosened and she released the gun and slid back off the bow. Frank leaned down and took the gun, worked it into his hand before lifting his foot and freeing her.
“Fine,” she said. “You want the damn gun, keep it. I just want to get back to my husband. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
She stretched her hands up to him again, like a child wanting to be held. He stood where he was and looked down into her face.
“You killed Vaughn in cold blood.”
“He deserved it. You said so yourself.”
“Yes, I did. And you believe that what you did was right.”
“Absolutely.” She’d dropped her hands again, was watching him with wary expression.
He nodded. “Good. You and I, we think alike.”
“Okay,” she said. “So let’s go.”
He turned from her and faced Nora, who was standing in the back of the boat watching this all unfold with a horrified expression. There were splatters of blood on her arm. Vaughn’s blood, probably.
“Nora,” Frank said, “I’m going to have to ask you to get back in the other boat.”
“What?”
“Please,” he said, voice gentle. “If you’d get back into the other boat, I’d like you to take Renee and go to the dam. You know how to get there? Good. There’s a bait shop right there, just down the road. Go there, and call the police.”
“Frank . . .”
“Take the other boat and go get help,” he repeated. “Please.”
“Where are you going?”
He didn’t answer.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Frank, let’s all go get help together. Don’t go back for him. Let the police—”
“Nora.” He spoke with a stronger voice, and the emphasis made him move his gun hand, almost involuntarily. He hadn’t meant it as a threatening gesture, but her eyes went to the gun and fear rode through them, and when she looked at him again he felt sickened.
“It’s safer for you this way,” he said, but she was already moving, had stepped over the side and back into the smaller boat, moving out of fear. Fear of him, of the gun in his hand and what he might do with it.
“Where’s he going?” Renee said, her voice sharp with alarm. “What’s he talking about? Where are you going?”