The Broken Lake (The Pace Series, Book 2)

  The Broken Lake

  Published through Lands Atlantic Publishing

  www.landsatlantic.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2010 by Shelena Shorts

  Cover Photo by Suzanne Mazer and C. Paul

  ISBN: 978-0982500514

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the author or publisher.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1: Home

  Chapter 2: Meltdown

  Chapter 3: Work

  Chapter 4: Damage Control

  Chapter 5: Fifteen Minutes

  Chapter 6: Tears

  Chapter 7: Making the Most

  Chapter 8: In With the New

  Chapter 9: The Fight

  Chapter 10: On Edge

  Chapter 11: Party Number Two

  Chapter 12: New to the Extreme

  Chapter 13: Plans

  Chapter 14: The Flight

  Chapter 15: Arrival

  Chapter 16: Settling In

  Chapter 17: The Snow Globe

  Chapter 18: A New Meaning

  Chapter 19: Trapped

  Chapter 20: The Divide

  Chapter 21: Home Alone

  Chapter 22: The Ally

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  HOME

  Having already died twice, one would think I’d know what it feels like. But apparently not. That wonderful weightless feeling of floating was me being cradled in the arms of perfection, a perfection I absolutely confirmed on the day he carried me away from death.

  For eighteen hours, I had been missing. Abducted. Holed up in a dark basement, waiting for Andy to kill me. Every second, I prayed that Wes would find me, hoping he’d picked up on the one clue my captor so arrogantly and inadvertently left. And somehow, even through the darkest hour, I knew everything would be okay.

  It’s easy for me to say that with such confidence now, but the truth is, I was terrified. I had just convinced Wes to relax and not be so worried that our history would repeat itself. Just because I’d prematurely died on him in two previous lives didn’t mean it was going to happen again. I believed that with assurance. And he was starting to as well, until I ended up on death’s doorstep. Lifeless.

  But the good news is that I’m here. The bad news is, I was sure Wes was freaking out about my future. I just didn’t know how much. My mom made it impossible for me to talk to him while I was in the hospital.

  From the way she was acting when I first woke up, I thought she knew about Wes’ secret or my previous lives, but she didn’t. She only knew what Wes told the police, which was how he had overheard Andy demanding some information when he took me. The connection was enough to turn my mother into a lioness protecting her cub.

  Up until then, she’d only known Wes’ uncle had founded medical research labs. Not that Wes is running them now, or that they’re working on an experimental medical breakthrough using serums derived from gator blood. And she certainly didn’t expect some crazy man to cause me to spend two days in the hospital for blood loss and a mangled hand.

  And then, when I was finally heading home, all I wanted was to see Wes, and all she wanted was to hover. She talked to me the entire way, but I was somewhere in Westonland. I tried to hang in there while she talked about my upcoming finals, but zoned out once she started talking beyond graduation.

  I was eighteen now and she had no idea that if the past repeated itself, I wouldn’t even have a future beyond nineteen. I briefly thought about whether or not I should warn her in case something did happen, but then I became distracted with plotting on how I could see Wes alone.

  As soon as we pulled up to our house, she ran around to my side of the car to help me out.

  “Mom, I’m fine. My legs aren’t broken.”

  “You need to be careful, Sophie, if you ever want to write again.”

  I’m not sure it was that serious. Andy did break my hand in seven places, but I was pretty sure I’d be okay. “I’m fine.”

  “Just let me help you.”

  I let her guide me out of the car and lead me into the house. Once inside the foyer, I reached for my bag with my left hand and she scowled at me. This was not going to be easy. I was about to protest when the phone rang. Still clutching my bag, she went to answer it.

  “Hello? I told you, she isn’t up for any questioning. Well, I think it can wait. Fine.” She rolled her eyes and hung up the phone.

  “Who was that?”

  She started up the steps with my bags. “The police.”

  Practically on her heels now, I prodded for answers. “What do they want?”

  “They want to talk to you about Andy’s death.”

  There wasn’t much to talk about in my opinion. He was sick, injected himself with serum stolen from Wes’ lab, and it killed him. Not sure what there was to discuss.

  “Why?” We were in my room by then, and she was avoiding eye contact with me. “Why, Mom?”

  “They just want to make sure he wasn’t murdered.”

  I almost laughed at the ridiculous insinuation. “They already know that. He had a heart attack from the injection he gave himself.”

  She turned around and let out a stressful sigh. “Yes, Sophie. He died from the injection. Except he couldn’t have given it to himself with his hand broken in a zillion places.”

  My eyes narrowed as I watched her busily straightening up my already clean room. “But he did. I know he did, and his hand was fine.”

  “Well, it wasn’t fine when the police arrived.”

  The information registered. “Wes broke his hand?” I sat on the bed, half pleased and half worried.

  She looked at me. “And he was alive when it happened.”

  I pieced together the rest. “And they think Wes injected him afterward.” She nodded. “Well, that’s simply not true,” I said, shaking off the accusation.

  “Well, you can tell them that when they arrive. They’re on their way.”

  “What’s the big deal anyway? He almost killed me.” I had a hard time sympathizing with the dead man.

  “I know. But in the grand scheme of things, even the victims can’t just take the law into their own hands and kill someone.”

  “So…What? Do they want to arrest him or something? That’s ridiculous.”

  “I don’t know. They just want your account of what happened.”

  My head was starting to spin and it wasn’t from blood loss this time. I pushed her out of my room with the excuse that I needed to prep for a shower. In two seconds, I was dialing Wes’ number. Each ring dragged out in slow motion.

  Finally, smooth and gentle, with an edge of eagerness, he answered. “Hello?”

  “Wes!” A feeling of warmth radiated right out of my chest.

  “Sophie.”

  “Oh, my gosh, I’m dying here, Wes.” I sometimes have a wrong way with words, and as soon as they were out, I realized those were not the best choice. “I mean, I miss you. Please, please come and get me.”

  He chuckled. “I’m on my way.”

  “Wait. My mom says the cops are coming over here to ask me questions about what happened.”

  I wasn’t too worried about the idea of them coming. In a way, I couldn’t wait to tell them that Andy got what he deserved, but somewhere deep insid
e I was worried about what sort of other questions they might ask. Like about Wes’ past, or my past, for that matter? How long could Wes go without anyone else picking up on his true identity? We couldn’t very well explain away the fact that he was given a cold-blood transfusion in 1915, and now he’s nearly immortal.

  Now I started to get nervous about the police dipping into his background. I needed Wes to tell me what to say and what not to say. “What should I tell them?” I asked.

  Without even a pause, he answered, “Tell them the truth.”

  “Huh? I can’t tell them that. Then they’d know about you. You don’t mean…”

  Certainly he didn’t want me to explain the real reason Andy took me—so he could obtain the secret to Wes’ near immortality. There was no way Dr. Thomas and Wes had spent almost a century keeping secret the fact that Wes was a one-of-a-kind medical prodigy, only to have it revealed like this. All of their work would be for nothing. And what would people do with him if they found out? I envisioned horrible scientific experiments and needle pricking. I cringed but he snapped me out of my approaching panic.

  “No, Sophie. Not that truth. Just the truth about what Andy did. You don’t have anything to hide.”

  “But what about Andy’s hand? They think you injected the serum.”

  Soothing me with his calmness, he answered, “They can think what they want. I didn’t kill him.”

  I sighed with a sense of trust and assurance that this whole nightmare would be over soon. After we hung up, I took a shower to get the hospital smell off of me. Aside from having to keep my hand dry, and the soreness from the needle marks in my arm, I felt good. I got out of the shower and took a good look in the mirror. I hardly had any swelling left in my cheeks. There were a couple of small bruises that could be covered up with a little makeup. The only other noticeable damage was a little cut mark in the corner of my mouth. Considering what I had been through, I didn’t look so bad.

  I applied a little foundation to cover the bruises, and then blow-dried my hair. It was difficult to do basic things, but I was so ecstatic to be alive I practically bounced around my room getting ready.

  The doorbell rang around 4:00. I went downstairs, and my mom had already opened the door. Two uniformed officers stood broad-chested in our hall, with their feet shoulder-width apart. She escorted them into the living room where I entered into an interrogation about the events surrounding my miserable and cruel captor’s death. Only now, it wasn’t about Andy trying to kill me, but about someone perhaps murdering him, a false victim. I tried not to glare as the first officer broke out his notepad.

  “We’re sorry about what happened to you, Ms. Slone, but we have to ask you some questions. Standard ones, of course.”

  I gave him no indication as to my willingness, or unwillingness, to answer his “questions,” and my mother, still standing with her arms crossed, and watching, shifted her weight to one side.

  The second officer chimed in. He was a little more rounded than the younger officer and his oval face and balding head somehow made him appear more sympathetic.

  “Ms. Slone, we understand that you’ve been through a lot and have suffered a great deal. We don’t mean to disrupt your recovery, but this is our job.”

  I raised my eyebrows, hoping he’d get to the point.

  He continued. “We know Mr. Walters tried to harm you.”

  That was the first time I had heard Andy’s last name spoken out loud, and hearing it mentioned so formally seemed to give him a level of undeserving respect.

  “Officer, Andy didn’t try to harm me. He tried to kill me.”

  They looked at each other. “Right,” replied the first officer. “Can you tell us what happened?”

  “Yes, I can. Andy pulled me over, pretending to be one of you guys.” I hoped the mention of his impersonation would irritate them a little. “And then he chloroformed me and took me to some basement and tried to kill me.”

  “Right. We know that much. What we don’t know is exactly what happened in that room. Can you share it with us?”

  I took a deep breath. It wasn’t something I wanted to relive. But, it seemed like the only way for them to get the picture and leave me and Wes alone. I told them how Andy thought the cold-blood antibodies were the key to some revolutionary cure, and then I started deviating from the truth. I told them that Andy believed medical labs were purposely hiding a prevention for death. I said that once he found out Wes was the late Dr. Thomas’ great-nephew, he wanted to cash in on the research. He was crazy, I told them. Then I explained how I convinced him the cold-blood serum mixed with human blood would make him live longer.

  They looked like they wanted to laugh and I wasn’t sure if it was due to my account or Andy’s stupidity, so I continued. “Andy’s elevator obviously didn’t go all the way to the top floor. So he injected himself, and for a while he thought it was working. That’s when he decided to drain me of all my blood so he could sell it.” I shook my head and shuddered.

  “Why did he want to sell it?” the rounder officer asked.

  “Because he was insane. He actually thought he could mix some potion and sell it to dying people for millions of dollars.”

  The first officer spoke again. “So where does Mr. Wilson come in?”

  A lump started to build in my throat, but I kept it under control while trying to remember the secondhand account my mom told me. “Well, I was talking to Wes on the phone when Andy pulled me over, and Wes overheard him threatening to hurt me.”

  That was partly true. I was on the phone with Wes all right, but he overheard Andy call me Lenny—a name that Wes would associate with me from one of my past lives. But they didn’t need to know that part.

  “So, Ms. Slone, at what point did Mr. Wilson arrive?”

  This is where the story gets blurry for me, because I don’t really remember. I thought I was dead and floating to heaven, for Pete’s sake. I had no idea what the heck was happening around me, but I do remember Andy screaming in pain. The cold-blood must have reached his heart right about the time Wes arrived. Even if that wasn’t what happened, it sounded good to me.

  “I was about to pass out from blood loss.” Somehow that didn’t sound strong enough, so I restated it. “I was about to pass out from that maniac draining my blood, when I heard him fall to the floor. I opened my eyes to see him clawing at himself. Then he started shouting and freaking out. That’s when Wes arrived. He didn’t know why Andy was flipping out, so he grabbed his hand and they struggled. That’s all I remember.”

  They each nodded and raised their eyebrows at each other. Then the round one spoke.

  “Thank you, Ms. Slone. That’s all we need.” They both stood up. “Again, we’re sorry about what happened. We’re glad you’re all right.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  The officers made their way to the door. My mother and I followed and watched as they approached their police cruiser. I felt uneasy about the whole encounter, even more so when Wes’ familiar black car pulled up. My heart skipped a beat when he got out. Part of me wanted to run across the yard, but my wits told me to stay put and let him casually come to me, after he walked right past the two officers who had just inquired about his possible guilt for murder.

  It was no surprise that Wes handled the situation with his usual coolness. The officers were sitting in their cruiser by the time Wes began his walk up my driveway. Giving a respectful gesture, Wes glanced into the car window and nodded at both of the officers as he passed. I couldn’t hold back my smile as he drew near.

  “Hello, Wes. Please come in.” My mom greeted him, taking control of our encounter.

  “Thank you, Ms. Slone.”

  “Wes,” I said, pressing myself against his chest, careful not to bump my hand. I felt him inhale the scent of my hair as he gently squeezed me. “I missed you,” I whispered.

  “I missed you too.” He pulled away and gave me a look-over. He ran his thumb over my cheek, and I could see his disappointment w
hen he noticed my covered bruises.

  “I’m fine, Wes. Thanks to you.”

  My mother cleared her throat. “Why don’t you guys have a seat? I’ll make you something to drink.”

  I took his hand and pulled him toward the living room sofa. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of me since he walked through the door, and I couldn’t tell if he was staring at me or my bruises.

  “It’s really not that bad,” I told him.

  “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” He put his head down and I sensed his withdrawal.

  “Wes, it’s not your fault.”

  “I would have killed him if—”

  “But you didn’t,” I said quickly. It didn’t seem to make him feel any better, so I added another fact. “I would’ve killed him too, you know?”

  He smiled. My mom brought us two glasses of lemonade and then she looked skeptically at Wes. “Thanks, Mom.” I motioned with my eyes for her to leave and she hesitantly took the cue.

  “Do you mind if we go somewhere to talk?” Wes asked.

  “I’d love to.”

  We got up and went to the closet to pull out my coat when my mother reappeared.

  “Sophie, where are you going?”

  “We’re just going for a little drive. I’ll be right back.”

  “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? You just got home.”

  I leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, Mom, I’m sure.”

  “Be careful. Please take care of her, Wes.”

  He nodded in agreement. We got in the car, and I still felt a sense of distance.

  “Your mom is worried,” he said.

  “I know. She doesn’t handle stress very well. She’ll be fine.”

  “What if she’s not?”

  “Oh, she will be. She just needs some time to settle down.”

  “I don’t want to come between you two.”

  “Wes, you won’t. She likes you and she’s completely grateful for you saving me. She just needs a few cappuccinos to settle her nerves.”

  He laughed softly, but it sounded distant and unfamiliar. I started getting nervous. He placed his hand on my thigh which relaxed me a little.