Hauling RJ’s motorcycle in the bed of the ancient truck, tucked under a tarp like a misshapen Christmas present, is a novel experience, and I’m always game for those.
Only right now, the novelty makes worries spiral through my mind in a way they’ve never done before.
What if we get pulled over? This truck’s title isn’t in our names. And while I vaguely remember the script Walker taught me years ago for this exact situation, I’m not sure I can trust my memory.
Or my delivery.
Not today.
RJ tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling, and I know he’s in the same boat, the scent of stale chlorine permeating the air between us.
I’m usually the one taking the biggest risks. RJ’s always stayed locked in the van, watching everything else go downaround him, just the way he likes. Tonight, though, there’s no van. No earpieces or check-ins, let alone video surveillance. It’s just all of us doing our best, radio silent, and praying that everything goes to plan.
It makes me wish I had something to pray to besides Clara. Or maybe not. If any of us can make this mess work out, it’s her.
“There’s the willow,” I say, pointing to the drooping naked branches half frozen in the snow next to the wall, most of the way down to the lake. I don’t want to think about that tree, though. It makes my brain fuzzy and my palms sweat.
“Go around the block then, stop before we get here again,” RJ says.
I do, noting the guards at the gate as we roll past, a luxury SUV idling, waiting to be let in.
Once we’re back out of sight of the guards, we unload the bike, stashing it under the willow just as dusk falls.
RJ does something with the ties so he can free it in a hurry, then shoves some needed gear under the cover. That done, he hops back into the truck, warming his fingers against the registers as I drive us to the nearby park. “How cold is this going to be?” I ask.
“I’m hoping it’ll be like running—terrible until we warm up, then almost comfortable.”
“But you don’t know?”
“Nope.”
“Well, this is going to be fun.” I force a teasing grin onto my face, choking on my worries. “Keep those balls where you’ve got them. Clara’d be upset if you froze them off.”
“The same goes for you. You’ll be in the water longer than I will be.” With that ominous fact, he pushes me out of the truck so he has enough room to get dressed without me in the way. When he comes out, coated in his black drysuit, the chlorine scent following him out of the cab, I help him strap various items to his belt, before I hop in and get changed as well.
As ready as we’re going to be, we trudge through the snow to the shore. I auger a series of close holes while he double-checks all his gear, then mine. I hook the auger onto his belt before stomping on the holes I made until they break. It leaves a jagged oval in the ice, blackness splashing against the edges, looking more like a door to a dark dimension than a popular rich person lake.
“This looks brutal, man,” I say.
“It might be.”
On an impulse, I tug him to me, hugging him tight, releasing him almost as quickly. “Don’t die on us. We won’t find you until spring, and even then, those fish are bound to be hungry.”
“Same to you. And we’ve both got to keep our balls safe for our girl.”
I laugh, and RJ flashes me a bit of a smile before stepping backwards into the hole.
As discussed, he does all his scuba double-check stuff then pops back up, gives me a thumbs up and disappears into the inky darkness. The faint light of his headlamp glows dimly through the ice and snow. I step in behind him, running the same checks, wishing I had as much experience as he’s had under the water.
Losing my mind really messed up the plan.
Once we’ve checked and double-checked our gear, I follow him into the darkness, the icy water bad, but not dire.
This plan had better work.
Chapter 57
Walker
