Chapter 24

Thomas had arranged everything with painstaking care. He’d dialed the lake owner’s number first thing that morning, his voice measured and polite as he guaranteed that neither he nor Cassandra would stray from the path. They would respect the land, he’d promised, lingering only by the water’s edge and never venturing into the surrounding woods. Originally, he’d imagined them spreading a blanket on the grassy shore, unpacking a picnic basket brimming with sandwiches and fruit—an idyllic afternoon beside the glassy surface. But the owner, stern in his reply, had flatly refused such comforts. No food. No blanket. Just the quiet shore and the water. When Thomas glanced over to see Cassandra nodding in quiet acceptance, he folded his picnic plans away and tucked them into the recesses of his mind.

Now, the car was parked in a dusty clearing, and they climbed out into the morning light. A hush had fallen over the place, broken only by the rustling of pine needles overhead and the di