Read Online Seeds of Deception: A Kate Burkholder Short Story by Linda Castillo - Free Book Online

up the pace. One foot in front of the other. Faster now. Comfortable with the pain. Bring it on.
    The sight of the footprint stopped her dead. Panting, she stared, confusion and disbelief pummeling her like fists. Alarm knocking at her brain. Terror breathing hot down the back of her neck.
    Not possible, she thought.
    Her eyes tracked the prints left, into the woods. Not yet covered by snow. Fresh. But who would be out here in the middle of the night? Even as her brain posed the question, another part of her already knew, and the knowledge sent a lightning strike of adrenaline burning through her.
    A dozen scenarios played in her mind’s eye. Continue down the trail at a faster pace, outrun them. Abandon the trail and flee into the woods, lose them in the trees. Or set out across the lake and escape into the forest on the other side. But she knew that wasn’t a good idea. While it was bitterly cold tonight, the highs last week had hovered near fifty degrees. She wasn’t sure the ice was thick enough to support her weight.
    A figure materialized from the woods and stepped onto the trail ahead. A white phantom with dark holes for eyes. Hat and canvas coat caked with snow. Recognition flashed. She tried to be relieved, but her heart didn’t slow, her legs didn’t stop shaking.
    “You scared the shit out of me!” she exclaimed.
    A familiar grin. “Sorry.”
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I couldn’t sleep.” Eyes skittered away from hers. “I couldn’t let you leave without saying good-bye.” A step closer.
    Instinct screamed for her to maintain a safe distance, but she ignored it. No danger here, she reminded herself. Just the paranoia playing tricks on her. “I told you I’d call.”
    “We both know you won’t.”
    She wanted to argue, but there was no time. She tried to ignore the uneasiness slinking over her, grappled for the last remnants of a trust that had been shattered time and time again. But there was something in those familiar eyes that hadn’t been there before.
    “I have to go,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
    “I love you.” Another step. Close enough to touch. Too close. “Please don’t go.”
    A flash of resolve. A stab of regret. Spinning, she skidded down the bank, launched herself into a dead run across the lake.
    “Wait!”
    She didn’t dare slow down. A few yards out, she slipped, fell hard on her belly. Snow against her face, in her mouth. Ice groaning from the impact. A split second and she was back on her feet. She ran for fifty yards. Arms pumping. Boots sliding. Eyes flicking toward the bank behind her. No one there. But where?
    She continued across the lake. Slower now. Ice creaking beneath her feet. Nearly to the center. Not much farther.
    A sickening crack! reverberated across the ice. Water sloshed over the tops of her boots. Slush beneath her feet. The realization of a mistake. Another step and the ice crumbled. A trapdoor swallowing her feet first and sucking her down. The shock of cold burned like fire against her skin. She spread her arms, hands slapping against the ice. But the momentum dragged her down, plunging her into freezing blackness. Water closed over her face. Cold ripped the breath from her lungs.
    Darkness and panic and underwater silence. On instinct, she kicked her feet. Paddled with her hands. She was a strong swimmer, had swam the length of this lake a dozen times last summer. Her face broke the surface. She sucked in a single breath. Chest too tight. Bottomless cold beneath her.
    Sputtering, she reached for the jagged edge of the ice, gripped it with gloved hands and tried to pull herself out of the water. Her shoulders cleared, but the ice broke off in her hands, plunging her back in. Her boots were filled with water. Using her right foot, she toed off the left boot. One foot bare. Body quaking with cold. She could still make it …
    Kicking hard, she grabbed the edge of the ice, tried to heave her body from the water. Again, the ice