Rachel Caine - Stillhouse Lake

OTHER TITLES BY RACHEL CAINE

The Great Library

Paper and Fire

Ink and Bone

Weather Warden

Ill Wind

Heat Stroke

Chill Factor

Windfall

Firestorm

Thin Air

Gale Force

Cape Storm

Total Eclipse

Outcast Season

Undone

Unknown

Unseen

Unbroken

Revivalist

Working Stiff

Two Weeks Notice

Terminated

Red Letter Days

Devils Bargain

Devils Due

Stand-Alone Titles

Prince of Shadows

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Text copyright 2017 Rachel Caine LLC

All rights reserved.

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

Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle

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Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

ISBN-13: 9781477848661

ISBN-10: 1477848665

Cover design by Shasti OLeary-Soudant

To Lucienne, who immediately believed.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

GINA ROYAL

Wichita, Kansas

Gina never asked about the garage.

That thought would keep her awake every night for years after, pulsing hot against her eyelids. I should have asked. Should have known. But shed never asked, she didnt know, and in the end, that was what destroyed her.

She normally would have been home at three in the afternoon, but her husband had called to say he had an emergency at work and shed have to fetch Brady and Lily from school. It was no bother, reallythere was still plenty of time to finish up in the house before starting dinner. Hed been so lovely and apologetic about having to disrupt her schedule. Mel really could be the best, most charming man, and she was going to make it up to him; shed already decided that. Shed cook his favorite dish for dinner: liver and onions, served with a nice pinot noir she already had out on the counter. Then a family night, a movie on the couch with the kids. Maybe that new superhero movie the kids were clamoring to see, though Mel was careful about what they watched. Lily would curl into Ginas side, a warm bundle, and Brady would end up sprawled across his dads lap with his head up on the arm of the sofa. Only bendable kids could be comfortable like that, but it was Mels favorite thing in the world, family time. Well. His second-favorite, after his woodworking. Gina hoped that he wouldnt make an excuse to go out and tinker around in his workshop this evening.

Normal life. Comfortable life. Not perfect, of course. Nobody had a perfect marriage, did they? But Gina was satisfied, at least most of the time.

Shed been gone from the house for only half an hour, just long enough to race to school, pick up the kids, and hurry home. Her first thought as she turned the corner and saw the flashing lights on her block was Oh God, what if someones house is on fire? She was properly horrified at the idea, but in the next, selfish second, she thought, Dinners going to be so late . It was petty but exasperating.

The street was completely blocked off. She counted three police cars behind the barricade, their flashing light bars bathing the nearly identical ranch houses in blood red and bruise blue. An ambulance and a fire truck crouched farther down the street, apparently idle.

Mom? That was seven-year-old Brady, who was in the back seat. Mom, whats happening? Is that our house ? He sounded thrilled. Is it on fire ?

Gina slowed the car to a crawl and tried to take in the scene: a churned-up lawn, a flattened bed of irises, crushed bushes. The battered corpse of a mailbox lay half in the gutter.

Their mailbox. Their lawn. Their house.

At the end of that trail of destruction was a maroon SUV, engine still hissing steam. It was embedded halfway into the front-facing brick wall of their garage Mels workshop and leaned drunkenly on a pile of debris that had once been part of their solid brick home. Shed always imagined their house as being so firm, so solid, so normal . The vomited pile of bricks and broken Sheetrock looked obscene. It looked vulnerable.

She imagined the SUVs path as it jumped the curb, took out the mailbox, slalomed the yard, and crashed into the garage. As she did, her foot finally hit the brake of her own vehicle, hard enough that she felt the jolt all the way through her spine.

Mom! Brady yelled, almost in her ear, and she instinctively put out a hand to hush him. In the passenger seat, ten-year-old Lily had yanked her earbuds out and leaned forward. Her lips parted as she saw the damage at their house, but she didnt say anything. Her eyes were huge with shock.

Sorry, Gina said, hardly aware of what she was saying. Somethings wrong, baby. Lily? Are you okay?

Whats happening? Lily asked.

Are you okay?

Im fine! Whats happening?

Gina didnt answer. Her attention was pulled back to the house. She felt strangely raw and exposed, looking at the damage. Her home always seemed so safe to her, such a fortress, and now it was breached. Security had proved a lie, no stronger than bricks and wood and drywall.

Neighbors had poured out onto the street to gawk and gossip, which made it all so much worse. Even old Mrs. Millson, the retired schoolteacher who rarely left her house. She was the neighborhood gossip and rumormonger, never shy about speculating on the private lives of everyone within her line of sight. She wore a faded housecoat and leaned heavily on a walker, and her day nurse stood beside her. They both looked fascinated.

A policeman approached Ginas vehicle, and she quickly rolled down her window and gave him an apologetic smile.

Officer, she said. Thats my house there, the one that the SUV crashed into. Can I park here? I need to look over the damage and call my husband. This is just awful ! I hope the driver wasnt hurt too badly... Was he drunk? This corner can be dangerous.

The officers expression went from blank to hard-focused as she spoke, and she didnt understand why, not at all, but knew it wasnt good. This is your house?

Yes, it is.

Whats your name?

Royal. Gina Royal. Officer

He took a step back and rested his hand on the butt of his gun. Turn your engine off, maam, he said as he signaled to another cop, who came at a jog. Get the detective. Go!

Gina wet her lips. Officer, maybe you didnt understand

Maam, turn your engine off now . It was a harsh order this time. She shifted the vehicle into park and turned the key. The motor spun down to silence, and she could hear the buzz of conversation from the curious onlookers gathering on the far sidewalk. Keep both hands on the wheel. No sudden moves. Are there any weapons in the van with you?

No, of course there arent. Sir, I have my kids in here!

He didnt take his hand off his gun, and she felt a surge of anger. This is ridiculous. They have us mixed up with someone else. I havent done anything!

Maam, Im going to ask you again: Do you have any weapons? The raw edge to his voice derailed her outrage and replaced it with cold panic. For a second she couldnt speak.

She finally managed to say, No! I dont have any weapons. Nothing.