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I stepped back, releasing the bushes as quietly as possible. I couldn’t watch anymore. I signaled Mo to follow me, and we walked off.

“I can’t compete with that, Mo. That woman was stunning and what a body.” I shook my head mentally comparing myself in my jeans and hiking boots with the beautiful cover model wrapped in Ian’s arms. “This is me, Mo, I can’t be what I’m not, and after holding a woman as gorgeous as that model in his arms, there’s no way he would want this.” I waved my hand over my skinny body. Oh well, better to know that now before it’s too late.”

Mo pushed at my hand with his head, letting me know he was there for me.

“How about we go by the lake before returning home, Mo? We haven’t been there in a while and it’s not far from here.”

My dad didn’t know what he was talking about when he called Mo dumb. While lazy might fit him some of the time, he was never dumb. Mo took the turn for the lake without me saying another word.

It was a private lake, belonging to Willow Lake Lodge, though Max had allowed the locals to continue to use it after he had bought the place. No one came anymore, access to the lake itself having become difficult over the years. The various paths to it were now overgrown with vegetation.

The road to the boat launch ramp that my dad had used many a summer was no longer visible and the ramp itself a skeleton of what it once was. I wondered what Ian planned to do with this area. I would love him to open it to the town like Max had done. There had been many a July Fourth with a picnic and fireworks celebrated here. Labor Day, the unofficial end of summer, was another big event that had taken place here. Competitive games, plenty of food, more fireworks and endless fun and laughter with family and friends.

I glanced down to tell Mo about one particular Fourth of July celebration and saw that he wasn’t there. With a quick glance around, I spotted his backside sticking out from a bunch of thick bushes where the boat ramp was located.

“What did you find now?” I asked, walking over to him.

He gave a bark and I poked through the bushes where his head was buried.

“A car. You found a car?” Not believing it, I pushed some of the bushes aside and was surprised to see that it wasn’t some old rust-bucket that had been sitting there for years. It was a newer car and after a bit of digging around it, I recognized it.

It was Robert Louis Stevenson’s car.

I told myself to get on my cell with my dad, but I was so anxious to see what secrets it held that I ignored common sense. Not the first time I’ve done that.

“Stay back, Mo,” I ordered, not wanting to take a chance on him getting hurt since I realized the car sat on a precarious incline. “Go sit by the lake, Mo.”

Mo did as he was told. I managed to make my way to the back of the car and saw that it had traveled down the once clear road that led to the boat ramp launch. Had someone come upon it accidentally or had they known it was here and used it to hide the car? I climbed in and around the overgrown bushes to try and get to the driver’s side, my foot getting snagged on rope left over from the boats that had once launched from here. I took off my vest, hanging it from a tree branch, so I could squeeze more easily through the overgrown foliage. The window was open, and a wallet lay on the console between the two front seats.

I reached in to grab it and that’s when I spotted the knife. It was on the passenger side floor. I slipped myself further through the window since thick foliage pressed against the passenger side, making it impossible to access. I’d never get through it. I was careful to grab the handle with the cuff of my knit shirt and I grabbed the wallet as well as I wiggled my backside and legs out the window. When I thought I was clear, I lost my balance and hit the gear shaft between the seats. The car lurched forward. I jumped back, dropping the wallet to the ground as the car lurched again, though I kept tight hold of the knife. I took a quick step back and the rope that had snagged my ankle tightened.

I had no time to dislodge the rope. The car lurched again and this time it didn’t stop. It rolled down with the force of a spring being sprung, knocked me off my feet, and took me with it.


Tags: Donna Fletcher Romance