The Lake

THE LAKE KEVIN LYNCH Published by Inkubator Books www.inkubatorbooks.com Copyright © 2023 by Kevin Lynch ISBN (eBook): 978-1-83756-100-1 ISBN (Paperback): 978-1-83756-101-8 ISBN (Hardback): 978-1-83756-102-5 Kevin Lynch has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work. THE LAKE is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher. CONTENTS Inkubator Books Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Epilogue Inkubator Newsletter SOMEBODY OUT THERE About the Author Also by Kevin Lynch JOIN THE INKUBATOR MAILING LIST You will be the first to learn about new releases plus the many FREE and discounted Kindle books we offer! bit.ly/3dOTSW2 PROLOGUE The attack had taken her completely by surprise. One second she was by the waters of the lake. The next she had the full force of someone’s body thrown against her. The force drove her straight under the icy waters before she had a chance to cry out or grab a lungful of precious air. She had instinctively closed her eyes against the rush of chill water, but had opened them as soon as she was under. She could see yellow reeds shifting eerily in the murky waters. They looked like long fingers that were waiting to entangle her, to drag her even further down into the depths. The silt from the lake floor had been disturbed as she crashed into the shallow waters. It rose in clouds around her face making the reeds look even eerier. She lashed out an arm, a leg, but her attacker had the element of surprise and they were bigger. She felt the last pockets of air being forced from her lungs. Involuntarily, she opened her mouth and felt a thin film of icy water rush in before she closed it again. Her lungs were screaming for air now. The urge to try and grab a breath was overwhelming, but if she succumbed to that temptation it would all be over. There was little strength left in her limbs but she had to use every ounce of it to fight back. Otherwise, the chill, silty water was going to claim her. She lurched again, trying to force the body that held her down to move but they had all the advantage of air, of control, of surprise, and she was left with her face lying against the silty bottom, the light and the air above becoming ever fainter. She felt her mouth try to open again and she clammed it shut. But, as hard as she tried, she could feel the pressure of the water pressing in all around her face. The fight seemed hopeless, just her against the mass of water and the strength of the person on top. She knew they would keep her there until she finally succumbed and made what would be her last action on this earth, letting the mass of freezing water fill her screaming lungs until they could scream no more. 1 DEBBIE ‘I suppose we both want to put the past behind us,’ I said, almost absent-mindedly, as I peered out the window of the moving car. We had left the motorway some time back and were winding through single-lane country roads that brought us through small country towns with dinky little shops that had colourful, wood-frame windows. There were clusters of cottages, some with thatched roofs that had single chimneys funnelling fingers of smoke into the country air. ‘I guess we do,’ Jim agreed with a nod. He had both hands on the steering wheel, concentrating on the narrow road ahead as we hit open country again and wound around bends that vied for space with thrusting hedgerows whose searching branches slapped gently against the windscreen. ‘I was concerned when I discovered that the Airbnb is right beside a lake – for reasons we’ve already been through – but I guess I have to face them sometime.’ ‘For sure. I think you’re very brave to do it, but you’re right as well. Sometimes we have to stare our fears down so they lose some of their grip on us.’ I wondered how much Jim understood about the level of anxiety being beside a lake gave me. I still heard the voice of the son I had lost, his helpless shouts rising into the thin air, only to be lost in a wind that had gathered strength from nowhere. He had been out lying in a big inflatable ring and drifting out when the wind came and pushed him suddenly out of reach of the shore, of the desperate adults who dived in and swam after him. I had never been a strong swimmer and had tired quickly against the relentless, cold, slapping waves of the lake. And then he was gone. No more shouting, just the ring bobbing frantically, lifting at times with the strongest gusts, freed now from the anchor of his bodyweight flailing in the blackening water. That was Peter, a son I had raised on my own for six years from age twenty-one, when a moment of carelessness had led to me suddenly being propelled into the world of the single mum. I had taken on all the duties with the determination of a devoted parent… and then he was gone. My Peter, the person who had become my life, the single most important thing to me. Gone. ‘It’s been how long since