Courtney stamped her feet on the grassy lake bank, waiting for dawn to brighten the sky a little and watching for the first sign of lightning. Angry clouds churned overhead, turning the early light eerie. She hoped Counselor Frey wouldn’t cancel the race because of the storm, then reminded herself to THINK POSITIVE.

She could scarcely believe her good luck yesterday, beating Queen Toad’s best time. Of course, no one knew yet. She’d been practicing, sure, swimming her arms off every single day, building her strength and lung capacity like Daddy Jon had taught her.

In today’s meet, when it really mattered, when she’d be swimming against Queen Toad FOR REAL, knowing she absolutely, positively HAD to beat her, and knowing deep in her bones she could win hands down, no ties, no retakes, who could blame her for worrying that something freaky like this storm would wipe out her big chance? She hugged herself against a chill as a brisk breeze brought goose bumps to her bare skin.

“No lightning, no lightning, no lightning,” she chanted softly. Counselor Frey was a safety nut. Even without lightning, she might stop the swim meet if it rained hard enough. Grown-ups were weird like that, worrying about a little rain when you were already soaking wet in the lake.

Mama had promised to arrive early enough to see the swim contest. Daddy Travis had begged off to take care of some business, something to do with his new computer department, and Daddy Jon had to go out of town. Maybe Mama would stop at Camp Donovan to pick up Ellie. That’d be great, because Ellie would cheer louder than anybody. Ellie was Courtney’s biggest fan.

A dark thought slithered through Courtney’s mind. All during summer camp she’d worried about Ellie, badgering Counselor Bryan every night until she telephoned Camp Donovan to make sure Ellie was all right. Now the two weeks were almost over. Suppose something happened on this very last day, something terrible.

Think positive. Think positive. Think positive.

The camp floodlights winked off on their timer. Just a few more minutes and the sun would creep up behind the clouds. Courtney imagined the final race–all the girls and their moms and dads crowding around. Having won three heats already, Courtney would be the center of attention when Queen Toad stepped up, tall and sleek in her blue racing suit. She’d sneer down her skinny nose, but with everyone listening, she’d pretend to be a good sport.

“You looked pretty good yesterday, Keyes.”

“Thanks. So did you.” Admitting it would be worse than eating boiled squash, but Toad really was a good swimmer, a blue streak gliding through the water. Courtney’s speed and form had improved, yet she knew she looked more like a squiggle than a streak, with her stupid lopsided freestyle. She’d been working hard to smooth it out. When she forgot about form and went full out for speed, she swam better. Faster.

“Keep it up, Keyes, and you might come in second. Not a close second–I’ll be kicking water in your face all the way.”

Courtney could almost hear the sneering voice, and she tried to think of a clever comeback, something to singe Toad’s tomato-soup hair. She’d work on it, have one ready by race time.

A few raindrops sprinkled Courtney’s shoulders. The sun still sat low behind the trees, but the sky was bright enough for a practice swim. Imagining the “take your marks” announcement crackling over the speaker, she stood in position, heard the starting gun in her head and dove. The water wrapped her in silence.

Seconds later she burst through the surface.

DAMN! DAMN! DAMN! Was that Toad half a length ahead? Seeing the blue streak in her mind, Courtney grabbed the water in front of her and shoved it behind with all the force she could manage. She kicked and stroked harder than she ever had before, imagining the cheers from the bank, while concentrating on grabbing water and pushing it behind… pull, kick, stroke, stroke…

She could do it, she knew she could do it. Her lungs felt strong, her legs powerful. The opposite bank didn’t look so far now.

Courtney closed her eyes and willed her legs to kick harder, smoother. Remember to follow through… follow through… follow through…

She opened her eyes. The bank was closer. She was gaining on her best speed–she felt sure of it! And she wasn’t a bit tired.

She could make it. She could WIN. A few more strokes, and THEN who would be kicking water in whose face?

What was that grabbing her foot? Something under the water had wrapped around her ankle. Slithery plants grew close to the bank, but they usually didn’t grow this far out.

She kicked hard, broke free of the plant’s rough grasp, and shot forward– 

The plant grabbed her foot again, slowing her down. Slipping underwater, she reached back to pull herself free of the clutchy thing. The lake’s undergrowth kept the water dark, especially this early in the morning, greenish-brown, never clear enough to see more than a few feet. And something had churned up muddy gunk from the lake bottom. Courtney couldn’t see at all. But she didn’t need to see, did she? All she had to do was reach down and find the plant with her fingers–

Uhh! The vine pulled tighter, almost as if someone were yanking on it, pulling her toward the bottom of the lake–

Worry skittered around her mind. Something wasn’t right here, something was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG.

The creepy rustlings earlier–the shape at the window, the footsteps she’d chased through the trees, the flash of white running shoes–suddenly all the images rushed at her.

Oh, no, now the vine was around both feet, wrapping round and round her ankles, like a rope, tying her feet together… how could a plant do that? Fear shuddered through her. If only she could SEE WHAT WAS HAPPENING!

Twisting in the water, she bent double to pull at the vine–or was it a rope? It was scratchy like a rope.

Now something moved just beyond her reach. Not the watery plants but something solid. A person.

Oh, no, no, no. It was a person–pulling her deeper and deeper.

Her lungs burned. BURNED. She needed air… had to get to the surface.

She let her body go slack, let her bottom drop lower, drew her knees in, gathering the power in her legs…

Then pushed!

And broke free, the rope still binding her feet, but free of whoever was pulling her. She shot toward the surface–

And was yanked back. Her lungs were on fire… she needed oxygen… her head swam with tiny fireflies, buzzing.

Buzzing.

It would feel so good to go to sleep… to sleep… to sleep to stop the burning… burning… burning…

Courtney opened her mouth and allowed cool water to quench the fire.

Meanwhile, grab a Free Copy of Here Lies a Wicked Man, a traditional mystery featuring Booker Krane. You can see a quick, fun preview in the video below:

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