One of the region’s favorite ice cream parlors was located on the shore, in a Victorian house with a storied past—and in addition to slinging scoops, they also rented bikes … and boats.

She didn’t park the 911 so much as dump it at the side of the road on the grass shoulder as cockeyed as a drunk’s hat. She left the headlights on and facing across the water as she vaulted a fence and gunned across a shallow lawn for the floating docks. There, she found a variety of Boston Whalers, none of which had keys in them, of course—and one measly, tippy flat-bottom with a pull-start outboard.

Which, blessedly, somebody had not chained to the posts.

Lizzie jumped in, and it took her two yanks to get the engine cooking. Then she ripped off the tethers and headed out into the river, the tin can slapping against the waves and kicking spray into her face. With the dearth of artificial light, she could see a little, but not a lot—and the last thing she wanted was to run him over.

She had gone only a hundred yards or so into the river—which seemed to be the size of an ocean—when she saw the most miraculous thing on the horizon.

A miracle.

It was a miracle.

THREE

The Ohio River was so much colder than Lane could ever have imagined. And the shore was farther away, like he was swimming the English Channel. And his body heavier, as if there were cement blocks tied to his feet. And his lungs weren’t working right.

The current was carrying him fast, but that was only good news if he wanted to go over the falls like his father had. And as luck would have it, the relentless draw was pulling him into the center of the channel, away from any kind of land, and he had to fight against it if he hoped to get to—

As a piercing illumination hit him from behind, he thought for a split second that his momma’s faith had turned out to be real and her Jesus was coming to take him to the Pearly Gates.

“I got him! I got him!”

Okay, that voice sounded way too ordinary to be anything biblical—and the Southern accent was a telltale that it was probably a mortal and not God.

Spitting water out of his mouth, Lane rolled onto his back and had to put an arm over his eyes as he was blinded by the glare.

“He’s alive!”

The boat that pulled up beside him was a good thirty feet long and had a cabin, and its engines were cut as the stern swung around toward him.

He was pulled over thanks to a net grappler, and then he helped himself out of the river and onto the platform over the propellers. Flopping on his back, he looked up at the night. He couldn’t see the stars. The city’s glow was too bright. Or maybe his eyes were just too clouded.

A man’s face appeared in his vision. Gray beard. Shaggy hair. “We saw you jump. Good thing we was coming under—”

“Someone’s approaching from starboard.”

Lane knew without looking who it was. He just knew it. And sure enough, as the spotlight was manually spun in that direction, he saw his Lizzie in a flatboat coming at them, the flimsy, metal craft clapping against the water, her strong body crouched by the outboard motor, that high-pitched whine of the overworked little engine the perfect sound track to the panic on her face.

“Lane!”

“Lizzie!” He sat up and cupped his dripping hands to yell. “I’m all right! I made it!”

She pulled up like an expert right across the stern, and even though he was in wet clothes and cold to the bone, he jumped at her. Or maybe she jumped at him. It was probably the both of them.

He held her tight against him, and she held him back. And then she jerked away and punched him in the biceps so hard, she nearly knocked him back into the river.

“Ow!”

“What the hell were you doing up there—”

“I wasn’t—”

“Are you out of your mind—”

“I didn’t—”

“You almost killed yourself!”

“Lizzie, I—”

“I am so pissed off at you right now!”

The fishing boat was tipping back and forth as they stood with feet planted on the gunnels. And he was dimly aware that there were three fishermen popcorn-and-Coke’ing it on the larger vessel.

“I could just slap you!”

“Okay, if it’ll make you feel better—”

“It won’t!” Lizzie said. “Nothing is going to—I thought you were dead!”

As she began to cry, he cursed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry …”

He brought her back against him and held her tightly, stroking her spine and murmuring things he wasn’t going to remember even if the moment itself was unforgettable.

“I’m so sorry … I’m so sorry …”

Typical of Lizzie, it wasn’t long before she pulled herself together and looked up at him. “I really want to hit you again.”

Lane rubbed his biceps. “And I’d still deserve it.”

“Y’all okay?” one of the guys said as he tossed a faded towel that smelled like bait over. “Y’all need nine-one-one? Either one of you?”

“It was already called,” Lizzie answered.

And yup, sure enough, there were flashing red and blue lights up on the bridge now, as well as ones coming down to the river’s shore on the Indiana side, too.

Great, he thought as he wrapped himself up. Just frickin’ great.

“We’re going to be fine.” Lane put out his hand. “Thank you.”

The man with the gray beard shook what was offered. “I’m glad no one’s hurt. You know, people, they jump from there. Just last week, this guy, he jumped and kilt himself. They found him down on the far side of the falls. In a boathouse.”

Yes, that was my father, Lane thought.

“Really?” Lane lied. “There hasn’t been anything in the press.”

“It was my cousin’s boathouse. Guess the guy was important or something. They ain’t talking.”

“Well, that’s a shame. For the man’s family, whoever they are.”

“Thank you,” Lizzie said to the guys. “Thank you so much for getting him out.”

There was some conversation at that point, not that Lane paid much attention to it—other than them wanting him to keep the towel and him thanking them for it. And then he was lowering himself onto the bench in the middle and tucking everything he had into his torso to conserve body heat. Meanwhile, Lizzie restarted the outboard motor with a couple of powerful yanks and reversed them away, the sweet smell of gasoline and oil tinting the air and making him think of childhood summers. As they turned around, he glanced back at the bigger vessel.