Yes, I can understand you, but I think you’re crashing the wrong party. This is the ground-breaking ceremony for the new community center; we’re not desecrating anything.”
“No, I’m supposed to be here,” the man Stillwater mumbled in the younger voice. “Aren’t I?” Then the outraged elder returned. “ ‘Ground- breaking ’?” he said, his eyes wide with horror. “You break the ground at your whim ? You drive your implements into the soil with no regard for what exists there?”
“You’re a member of Save the Moles?” Bloom said with a derisive chuckle. The dignitaries behind him laughed uncertainly. “Look, sir, don’t make me throw you out. This is supposed to be a day of celebration. Just go on your way and we’ll forget this happened, okay?”
Stillwater pointed a finger at Bloom. “This land you now desecrate with your very presence was once a sacred place where we, the Lo-Stahzi, communed with the spirits of the lakes.”
Rachel gasped in a way that had nothing to do with Stillwater’s sexual appeal. Was that mere rhetoric, or did he truly know about the lake spirits?
“Sir, I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’ve invested all my time and energy into this project, into this place and these people, and I won’t see it derailed by some hippie lunatic in his underwear.”
“There is no spirit in your heart,” Stillwater continued, smiling as if this realization pleased him. “It is an empty vessel. And it may have its uses.”
“Okay, we really don’t have time for this,” Bloom snapped. “ Security! Please escort Mr. Stillwater off the premises and into police custody.”
Two big men—one of them the guard Rachel and Patty had encountered earlier—strode from backstage and started pushing through the crowd. The tightly packed women near Stillwater inadvertently impeded them. The men muttered apologies as they tried to work their way through without roughing anyone up.
Stillwater saw them coming and strode back toward the water, just evading the two security men. He walked into the lake without a backward glance and vanished beneath the surface. The security officers reached the shore just as he went under, but he did not reappear.
Rachel joined the crowd of fixated women at the water’s edge, although she was more in control than most. If he knew about the spirits, was it possible that he was a Lo-Stahzi? And if so, did he possess more information about the watery beings who had possessed her body for all these years?
One of the security men pushed her aside. Rachel saw the flash of a small gun in the man’s paw of a hand, but he quickly tucked it out of sight. “There’s no sign of him,” he said into the Bluetooth attached to his meaty ear.
As the security men retreated, two TV cameramen rushed to the edge of the lake and filmed the water’s surface, waiting for Stillwater to reappear. But there was no sign of him, and the only boat visible was too far away for him to reach while swimming underwater. And if he’d hidden scuba gear, there would be telltale bubbles.
“Holy crap, who was that guy?” one cameraman said to the other.
“Some lost Chippendale dude who fell into the lake,” the other said wryly. “Man, would you look at the way these chicks are panting after him?”
“Didn’t look like an Indian to me, that’s for sure,” the first one said. “And where the hell did he go?”
Local news reporter Betsy Basker rushed up to the second cameraman. “Quick, I need to film some book-ends with the lake behind me.” She peered at her reflection in the camera lens and adjusted her hair.
“Your face is red,” the cameraman said, amused.
She fanned it quickly. “It’s just the heat.”
“And your high beams are on.”
“Then just zoom in tighter!” she snapped.
He smiled. “Uh-huh. Are you ready? In five, four, three …” He silently mouthed Two, one , and nodded for her to begin.
“This is Betsy Basker with Channel Twelve
“No, I’m supposed to be here,” the man Stillwater mumbled in the younger voice. “Aren’t I?” Then the outraged elder returned. “ ‘Ground- breaking ’?” he said, his eyes wide with horror. “You break the ground at your whim ? You drive your implements into the soil with no regard for what exists there?”
“You’re a member of Save the Moles?” Bloom said with a derisive chuckle. The dignitaries behind him laughed uncertainly. “Look, sir, don’t make me throw you out. This is supposed to be a day of celebration. Just go on your way and we’ll forget this happened, okay?”
Stillwater pointed a finger at Bloom. “This land you now desecrate with your very presence was once a sacred place where we, the Lo-Stahzi, communed with the spirits of the lakes.”
Rachel gasped in a way that had nothing to do with Stillwater’s sexual appeal. Was that mere rhetoric, or did he truly know about the lake spirits?
“Sir, I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’ve invested all my time and energy into this project, into this place and these people, and I won’t see it derailed by some hippie lunatic in his underwear.”
“There is no spirit in your heart,” Stillwater continued, smiling as if this realization pleased him. “It is an empty vessel. And it may have its uses.”
“Okay, we really don’t have time for this,” Bloom snapped. “ Security! Please escort Mr. Stillwater off the premises and into police custody.”
Two big men—one of them the guard Rachel and Patty had encountered earlier—strode from backstage and started pushing through the crowd. The tightly packed women near Stillwater inadvertently impeded them. The men muttered apologies as they tried to work their way through without roughing anyone up.
Stillwater saw them coming and strode back toward the water, just evading the two security men. He walked into the lake without a backward glance and vanished beneath the surface. The security officers reached the shore just as he went under, but he did not reappear.
Rachel joined the crowd of fixated women at the water’s edge, although she was more in control than most. If he knew about the spirits, was it possible that he was a Lo-Stahzi? And if so, did he possess more information about the watery beings who had possessed her body for all these years?
One of the security men pushed her aside. Rachel saw the flash of a small gun in the man’s paw of a hand, but he quickly tucked it out of sight. “There’s no sign of him,” he said into the Bluetooth attached to his meaty ear.
As the security men retreated, two TV cameramen rushed to the edge of the lake and filmed the water’s surface, waiting for Stillwater to reappear. But there was no sign of him, and the only boat visible was too far away for him to reach while swimming underwater. And if he’d hidden scuba gear, there would be telltale bubbles.
“Holy crap, who was that guy?” one cameraman said to the other.
“Some lost Chippendale dude who fell into the lake,” the other said wryly. “Man, would you look at the way these chicks are panting after him?”
“Didn’t look like an Indian to me, that’s for sure,” the first one said. “And where the hell did he go?”
Local news reporter Betsy Basker rushed up to the second cameraman. “Quick, I need to film some book-ends with the lake behind me.” She peered at her reflection in the camera lens and adjusted her hair.
“Your face is red,” the cameraman said, amused.
She fanned it quickly. “It’s just the heat.”
“And your high beams are on.”
“Then just zoom in tighter!” she snapped.
He smiled. “Uh-huh. Are you ready? In five, four, three …” He silently mouthed Two, one , and nodded for her to begin.
“This is Betsy Basker with Channel Twelve
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