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“Funny thing is, no one else in that area heard gunfire...or a car backfiring, for that matter.”
Her grip on her fishing rod tightened. “Maybe no one else was awake.”
“Harvey Andersen sleeps with his window open every night of the year, and his house is close to where you found Leon. He says he didn’t hear a thing.”
“I found Leon in that area,” she said slowly. “Of course, he could have been wounded elsewhere and have been on his way home when I found him.”
“True.”
Halloween night—a few random shots by teenagers after a few beers? Maybe, but he had a gut feeling that there was more to this case than that.
There’d been naked fear in Leon’s eyes from the moment Nathan had coaxed him out onto the porch until the moment he’d brought the poor guy home again after visiting the ER. “Did he say anything to you about being harassed lately?”
“No.” She turned away to watch her fishing line. “He wouldn’t say much.”
They fell into a companionable silence. Fifteen minutes later he felt a strike—then another—but when he tried to set the hook, the fish was gone.
Sara grinned at him each time he came up dry. “Save your strength for mine,” she suggested. “You’re going to need it.”
He’d admired her easy assurance, her sharp wit. Now, during this time on the lake, he discovered she was the rare, peaceful kind of woman who could handle quiet without desperately trying to fill it.
He found himself watching her line more than his; taking pleasure in her concentration. The late-fall foliage still clinging to the trees and the azure depths of the lake, where schools of minnows slid past like clouds of molten silver, filled him with contentment he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Deep in thought, he startled when she suddenly launched to her feet with a whoop of victory.
“I got one! I got one!”
Nathan put the engine into neutral. “He’s gonna take a coupla runs into deep water, so don’t fight him too hard.”
The fish took off with a high, arcing flash of silver and loud splash at the surface, fighting the hook.
“This is fantastic,” she breathed as she reeled him in. “He must be huge!”
Chuckling, Nathan grabbed the net. “They always are, until we get out the tape measure.”
She held on to her rod with one hand, reached over to grab Nathan by his life jacket and hauled him closer until they were almost nose to nose. “No. This is a big one.”
At the intensity in her voice and surprising strength, he laughed outright. “I’m sure it is, ma’am. Absolutely. Only you’d better pay attention or you’re gonna lose him.”
When at last she drew the fish closer to the boat, Nathan scooped it up with the net and hauled it on board. Harold, who’d edged forward watching with rapt attention, leaped back when the fish flipped and sent a spray of water across his nose.
“Wow.” Sara stared as Nathan gently disengaged the hook and stretched the fish out along the ruler markings along the bow. “Twenty-three inches? Isn’t that good?”
“You bet. This guy is around four and a half pounds.” He hesitated. “You want him, or can I let him go?”
“Oh, please—turn him loose.”
Carefully supporting the walleye’s weight, he lowered it into the water, held it for a moment, then let it go. With a splash, the fish dove deep and disappeared.
“Do we have any bets on?” Sara asked after a moment, her eyes still sparkling. “Like, for getting the biggest—hey, the only fish?”
Nathan stowed the net and gathered up his own line. “What are the stakes?” He could think of a few he wouldn’t mind, all involving soft music and a nice place with candlelight.
“A cheeseburger out at the Bait ’n Burger?”
Nathan coughed. “There?”
“Or—” Her cocky grin faded into something tentative, sweet. “Or maybe someplace where the customers don’t all display fishhooks stuck on their hats?”
