BOOK ONE
Whitefire Lake, California
Eleven Years Earlier
Chapter One
“MAYBE WE SHOULD turn back.” Carlie gnawed nervously on the inside of her lip, but continued to paddle forward. She didn’t usually second-guess herself, and she’d always been adventurous, but this time she questioned her own wisdom as she dipped her oar into the water and glanced over her shoulder to her friend, Brenda, paddling steadily at the stern of the small rowboat.
Dusk gathered lazily over the lake. Water skippers and dragonflies skimmed the clear surface and mosquitoes droned in the early-evening air.
“Turn back now? Are you crazy?” Brenda asked, clucking her tongue in disappointment. With springy red curls, freckles and eyes the color of chocolate, Brenda was new to Gold Creek, but she and Carlie were fast becoming friends. “This was your idea, remember?”
“Can’t I change my mind?”
“Not now.” Brenda shoved her oar into the water and threw her shoulders into her stroke. The small boat skimmed closer to their destination, an abandoned log cabin on the south side of the lake.
The Bait and Fish, lights glowing warmly from the windows, slid by. Flickering neon signs announcing favorite brands of beer stood in stark relief against the weathered old boards. In the distance, near the north shore, speedboats dragged water-skiers. Carlie recognized Brian Fitzpatrick at the helm of a racing silver craft that rimmed the shoreline and left a thick rippling wake over which an experienced skier, probably Brian’s younger sister, Toni, was balanced on one ski.
“What a life,” Brenda said dreamily as she glanced at the sleek speedboat.
“You’d want to be a Fitzpatrick?” Carlie shook her head. “With all their troubles?”
“They’ve got soooo much money.”
“And soooo many troubles. Haven’t you heard about the root of all evil?”
“So, let me sin a little.”
Carlie laughed, enjoying the breath of a breeze that fanned her face and lifted her hair off her shoulders. Though the sun had set in a blaze of gold and pink behind the mountains, the July air was hot and sticky.
Their destination loomed ahead, a thicket of pines surrounding an ancient cabin with rotting, weather-beaten shingles for a roof and rough log walls. No one knew who owned the property, but the single acre was referred to as the “old Daniels’s place” by most of the people in town. Jed Daniels built the cabin for his bride just before the turn of the century, and successive generations of Daniels’ kin had used the place as a summer cottage. Eventually the Daniels family was spread too far and thin to keep up the house, but if the place had ever been sold, no one in town talked of it.
Carlie eased the rowboat to the old dock of weathered pilings and broken boards. Though the house was dark, music and laughter drifted through the broken, boarded-up windows, and she recognized an old song by the Rolling Stones.
She bit her lower lip and worried it over her teeth. What was it about her that was always seeking out adventure or “looking for trouble,” as her father had so often said?
“She’s just curious, nothing wrong with that.” Her mother, Thelma, had quickly defended her only child on more than one occasion. “She’s got a quick mind and she gets bored easily.”
“Dreamin’, that’s what she’s doin’. Thinkin’ she can become some hot-damn New York model. Where I come from that’s called being too big fer yer britches,” Weldon Surrett had stated as he’d sat at the kitchen table smoking a cigarette.
“Where you come from, a six-pack of beer and a deck of cards were considered big-time,” her mother teased gently, then adjusted the skirt of her uniform and kissed her husband on the cheek. “See you after my shift.” Thelma had always been defensive of Carlie. Sometimes she went too far and was overprotective. Carlie blamed it on the fact that her mother couldn’t have any more children. A hysterectomy one year after Carlie’s birth had denied Thelma the large family she’d always wanted. Consequently, Thelma had poured all her motherly affection, concern and love onto her only child. If it weren’t for the fact that Thelma’s job at the Rexall Drugstore in town kept her busy, she would surely have suffocated Carlie with all her good intentions long ago.
“This is the place?” Brenda asked skeptically as she eyed the dilapidated cabin.
“Uh-huh.”
“You sure you heard right?”
“Positive.”
“And Ben Powell will be here?” Brenda lifted a doubtful eyebrow.
“I heard him talking to his brother,” Carlie said as the boat rocked softly against the dock. She’d run into Ben and Kevin at the new video store that had opened up near the supermarket. The boys had been arguing about which movie to rent when Kevin had looked up and caught her staring at them. Carlie felt a little jab of guilt when she remembered the spark of interest in Kevin’s eyes when he’d caught her gaze.
Kevin was older than Ben and had spent a year away at college before Kevin’s grades had slipped and the money had run out for his education. Now he was working at Monroe Sawmill and was unhappy with his life. He and Carlie had dated several times, but then she’d stopped seeing him. Kevin was seven years older than she, and was much too serious and possessive. By the third date, Carlie had known that their relationship was doomed. He began calling twice a day, demanding to know where she’d been, jealous of her friends and the time she’d spent away from him. After three lousy dates!
She’d never really broken up with him because they’d never really gone together; she’d just stopped going out with him. He spent a lot of his time at the Buckeye Restaurant and Lounge, drinking beer and watching sports on television through a smoky haze as he relived his own days of glory as one of the best basketball players to ever graduate from Tyler High School.