“And now?” Isabel asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Frank took a breath. “Now I’m starting to think that maybe?—”
A sharp crack split the evening air—a sound Frank instantly recognized as a gunshot. He didn’t know where it had comefrom, but it had to be somewhere around the lake. Right where Tommy and William had gone.
“Tommy,” Frank whispered, already moving toward the door, heart pounding with terror. He raced outside with Isabel close behind him.
As they tore across the grass, he called Tommy and William’s names, hoping against all hope that they were okay. That Dave hadn’t taken his grandson away from him, too.
CHAPTER 31
As Frank sprinted down the wooden steps toward the dock, his heart hammered against his ribs. The muscles in his legs burned with each stride, but fear pushed him forward. In the gathering darkness, he could make out two figures crouched low on the dock—William’s broad shoulders hunched protectively over Tommy’s smaller frame.
“Tommy!” Frank shouted, relief washing through him when his grandson’s head popped up. “Stay down!”
William had already drawn his service weapon, and his eyes were scanning the surrounding trees. “Over there,” he said quietly as Frank reached them, pointing toward a thicket of pine trees. “Single shot. Sounded like a rifle.”
Frank dropped to his knees beside Tommy, quickly checking the boy for any signs of injury. “Are you hurt? Either of you?”
Tommy shook his head. “We were looking at an owl when we heard it. William pushed me down really fast.”
Frank squeezed his grandson’s shoulder, grateful that William was with him. “That’s good, buddy. Stay low.”
Isabel crouched beside them. “Is everyone okay?” she whispered.
Tommy nodded. “Someone shot a gun.”
Frank turned to scan the shoreline. “It could be a hunter,” he said, though he didn’t believe it for a second.
“Not hunting season,” William replied grimly, confirming Frank’s suspicion. “And that was no accident. The shot hit the water about ten feet from the dock.”
“Do you want me to call 911?” Isabel asked. Her voice was steady despite the fear Frank could hear underneath.
“That’d be great,” William told her. “I’ll call for backup, too.”
As Isabel spoke to the emergency dispatcher, William took out his radio, speaking in clipped, professional tones. “This is Agent Parker. Shots were fired at Lake Shore Drive, north end. Requesting immediate backup.” He paused, listening to the response. “Copy that. Civilian family present, potential witness intimidation. Approach with caution.”
Frank pulled Tommy closer to his side, his mind racing. This was it—the escalation he’d feared. Dave had made good on his threat far sooner than Frank had expected.
“We need to get to cover,” William murmured. “The boathouse is too exposed. If we can make it back to the house?—”
Another shot cracked through the night, splintering wood at the edge of the dock just feet from where they crouched. Tommy flinched but remained silent, his hands gripping Frank’s arm with surprising strength.
“New plan,” William said, his voice taut. “Into the water, under the dock. Now.”
Frank and Isabel nodded.
“Tommy, hold on to me,” Frank told his grandson. “We’re going to slide into the water very quietly.”
Tommy’s eyes widened, but he didn’t protest as Frank guided him to the edge of the dock. William covered them, his weapon pointing toward the trees, as Frank lowered himself and Tommy silently into the cold water. Even though it was still summer,the shock of it stole Frank’s breath. Holding Tommy close, they slipped beneath the wooden structure.
Isabel and William followed seconds later, barely making a ripple as they slid into the water beside them. The four of them huddled in the darkness, the water lapping at their chests.
Tommy shivered against Frank’s side. “I’m cold, Grandpa.”
Frank looked around them. Tommy couldn’t stay in the water for as long as they could. He pointed to where the dock met the bank. “There’s a ledge over there Tommy can lie on. He needs to get out of the water.”
They moved between the piles, lifting Tommy so he could scramble onto the top of the concrete.
