THE SUN IS about to set when Hannah finally comes jogging up the path to Lake Aloha. This is her first time seeing the lake, and the setting sun and overcast sky give the desolate area a gray, gothic look. The lake is still, like a slab of steel, and the whole area is as silent as a cemetery.

She thinks about shouting Logan’s name, but if he’s in trouble, she doesn’t want to alert his companions.

Her heart is pounding. One week ago, she took the water taxi because she thought the eleven-mile hike might be too much for her. Today, she practically ran the whole way. When she arrived at the parking lot, the employees informed her that the boat had just left and wouldn’t be back for thirty minutes. She’d taken off running down the path.

It’s amazing the energy that adrenaline can give you.

She takes off jogging along the path that circles the lake, not sure what she’s looking for. Over a distant mountain, the moon begins to rise, peeking out through the clouds in a bright, eerie glow.

She looks around constantly as she moves, trying to maintain her footing while still looking for any sign of Logan. She nearly runs into a body lying on the rocks.

She lets out a scream and then claps her hand over her mouth.

The man is clearly dead. His vacant eyes catch the moonlight, and the blood on his face looks black.

Hannah looks around wildly. There’s another body in the shallow water. The person’s face is submerged. She thinks for a moment that it might be Logan, but the clothes are all wrong.

Then she spots a pair of hiking shoes that look like Logan’s. And his daypack.

Tears spring to her eyes. Her airway constricts. She doesn’t know what to do.

Then, barely audible over her own breathing, she hears a voice.

“Hannah,” Logan moans from somewhere in the distance. “Hannah.”

She sees him out on the lake, barely visible in the gloom, sitting on an island, leaning against a dried-up old tree.

“Are you hurt?” she shouts.

“Yes,” he says, his voice choked with sandpaper hoarseness. “I’ve been shot.”

“Oh, shit,” Hannah whispers.

She’s unsure what to do. The feeling of helplessness she had when Logan was saving the girl begins to wrap itself around her in a paralyzing squeeze.

No, she thinks. I have to do something.

She thinks of Logan’s quick, unhesitating action when the girl was drowning, and this breaks her paralysis.

She kicks off her shoes and strips off her clothes. She stands in her bra and underwear on the cold rock and steels herself for the swim.

“I’m coming,” she shouts to Logan, and then she runs into the lake.

The water burns like liquid fire.