The Prowler wades in up to his knees, quilting the whole area with nails until his cartridge runs dry. He looks at the gun and tosses it aside, lets it kerplunk down. Now he’s looking up, to the yacht. Letha is up against the rail, calling down. Not shrieking, not screaming, not crying, not asking what or why. “T’s napping!” she whisper-yells, just loud enough Jade can make it out. Below her, knee-deep in Indian Lake, Theo Mondragon peels out of the gas mask and hoodie. “Did you get them all?” Letha calls down, apparently forgetting her injunction against waking Tiara. Theo Mondragon shakes
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Girl huh
