It was true; there was no sign of Joel’s sun-streaked hair breaking the water. Whitaker Lake wasn’t very deep. But Sylvie knew it originated from an icy stream that ran through her woods, and that the stream was fed by mountain snows. Not only that, the lake was murky. You couldn’t see anything below the surface. Rianne had begun to sob, and that had Sylvie’s nerves jumping. “Hon, I need you to go sit with Oscar. Hang on to him, okay? We don’t want him taking another swim and maybe winding his leash around me or a pier pole.” Speaking as calmly as possible, Sylvie had already begun to strip out of her jeans, down to her underwear. “Is my daddy drowned?” Rianne’s eyes were big, horrified, filled with tears. “Don’t even think it. I’ll find him. I know this lake, honey.” Dropping her sweatshirt on top of her sneakers, Sylvie took the time for one quick touch of Rianne’s chilled face.
