Lisa Scottoline - Dead Ringer

The rowers tried frantically to brake, jamming their oars in the water, spraying water like fountains from both sides. “Hold water! Hold water!” their coxswains screamed and steered but it was no use. One boat’s rudder flapped uselessly back and forth. Its lead wire must have been broken by the sudden strain. Bennie could see the point of the boat. Racing at her like a spear.

No! She swam harder. Her lungs felt as if they’d burst. The lead eight was coming right at her, the boyish bowman twisting his trunk around to see her in their path. Bennie saw the terror in his young eyes. She couldn’t get out of the way in time. She was going to get run over.

She gulped a final breath of air and dove down deep into the mud and shit, heading for the river bottom. Her chest felt as if it would explode. In the next second, she could feel the powerful current of the eight moving like a whale over her head.

Please, no . Bennie had to stay down long enough for the eight to pass. She couldn’t get hit by the boat, the oars, or the riggers. She’d be killed. She leaked precious air from her mouth so she’d stay down. She flailed her arms to get lower, but it was too dark to see anything. Suddenly a wave of water hit her, sending her tumbling end over end in the cold and blackness, like a crumpled paper in a hurricane. Her mouth opened and she took in gulp after gulp of river water. She couldn’t breathe. Her nostrils bubbled with water. She felt a bolt of mortal fear. She was going to drown.

But then she saw sunlight, up and to her right. She was sideways. The boat had passed. Out of air, Bennie kicked futility for the surface. She couldn’t make it. She’d never make it. She had nothing left. Her arms ached; her legs gave up. She hiccuped water, gagging. She felt herself lose consciousness.

I don’t want to die. Not like this. Not with Alice still alive. And Bear.

Bennie’s hands reached for the surface. Her legs kicked with their last effort. She went blindly toward the light, and in the next second broke the water’s surface and bobbed into the sunlight, gagging and coughing.

“Wait, wait, there!” she heard a coach yelling, but she was coughing too hard to hear more. She vomited gritty river water and tried to stay afloat.

Bear . She wiped her eyes with cold and trembling hands. She torqued in the water toward the riverbank and saw it through bleary eyes. Please, God. Let him be alive.

A crowd formed suddenly on the bank where Bear had been chasing the tennis ball. Traffic stood at a standstill. People jumped out of their cars. The joggers stopped running. The cyclists leapt from their bikes.

The skiff motored closer, and Bennie felt her tears flowing with the river.

She ran soaking and out of breath toward the fringe of the crowd, ignoring the stares and shock of the onlookers. She couldn’t see through the crowd to Bear. Dirty spittle covered her chin, and her hair dripped with filthy water. Mud caked her shins, and her socks were soaked. Maybe Bear could still be saved. Maybe if she got him to a vet in time. The vet school at Penn wasn’t far way.

“Bear!” she yelled, staggering her way to the front of the crowd, which was breaking suddenly into wild applause. The cyclists in their tiny hats, the runners with the white sneaks, and the lovers and the students were clapping. Bennie felt new tears come to her eyes.

“Bear?” she asked with hope, and as the crowd parted she saw that one of the runners, a huge, well-built man, was carrying her unhappy golden from the path of certain death. It was Bear! Alive! Well! And with a tennis ball in his mouth! The hunky runner set the squirming golden down on the grass.

“Bear!” Bennie shouted with joy, and the startled dog turned, spotted her, and rushed toward her, jumping up on her with soft, gritty paws. Not that she minded. “Bear!” she cried again, smooshing her wet face into his furry one and coming away with hairy cheeks.

“Yeah!” “Way to go, buddy!” “Great job!” shouted the crowd, and the runner waved them off modestly. Bennie reached him just as people began climbing back in their cars, breaking up the gaper block that had stopped traffic on the drive. The cyclists returned to their bikes, the runners to their jogging, and the lovers to their necking.

“Yes, thank you so much for saving my dog,” Bennie said to the runner with a rush of gratitude, but oddly, he wasn’t smiling.

“No problem,” he said tersely. His largish mouth made a businesslike line, and his eyes, large, round, and brown, had gone flinty in the sunlight. He looked to be about Bennie’s age, in dark blue gym shorts that read NAVY in yellow letters. A thick white T-shirt hung loose on his broad, muscled chest, and his well-defined biceps were slick with sweat.

An older woman in a blue sweat suit and Reeboks was wagging a red-polished finger at Bennie. “Honey, if that’s your dog, you owe this man a reward! He just risked his life for that animal! He ran right into the street, stopped traffic with his hands, and scooped up that dog like he was a newborn baby!”

“No, please,” the jogger said modestly, but the older woman cut him off.

“Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it! He risked his life!” She turned to the man. “You should get a medal!” She reached for the man’s hand and shook it firmly, then turned again to Bennie. “He deserves a reward for what he did, you hear me? He could have been killed! He carried your dog out of the street and ran with him!”

“You ran with my dog?” Bennie looked up at the man, incredulous. Bear weighed over a hundred pounds, all of it peanut butter. It took a crane to lift him onto her bed. “You picked him up and ran with him?”

“Yes, it was amazing!” the older woman repeated. “He’s a real hero!”

“Please, no!” The jogger dismissed it with a modest wave. “It wasn’t anything.”

“You’re a real hero! A real hero!” the woman said again as she power-walked off, and Bennie felt overwhelmed.

“Thank you again, so much,” she said. Bear pawed her soggy socks to get her to throw the ball into traffic again, and she scratched his head with happiness. “Did you really run into traffic to save him?”

“Nah, I was going after the ball.”

Bennie laughed. “No, how did you do it? You stopped the traffic and grabbed him? And how did you pick him up?”

“It wasn’t hard,” he answered offhandedly. He was huge, at least six three, and his physique explained how he had bench-pressed a golden retriever.

“I do owe you, that lady was right.” Bennie was about to offer the man a reward, but she didn’t think he took Visa. “I’m a little strapped right now, but there must be something I can do for you in return. You need some free legal advice? Somebody you want to sue? I can make life hell for your enemies.”

“There is something.” The jogger’s eyes narrowed, and Bennie realized he was angry with her. “Learn a lesson. Take better care of your dog. Don’t play fetch near the street.”

Oh, no . “No, that wasn’t me throwing the ball,” Bennie said. She shook her head and grimy droplets flew off, but the man’s lips were glued skeptically together.

“Sure it was, I saw you. I told you to stop throwing the ball, and you told me to go fuck myself.”

Eek. “No, it wasn’t me. I didn’t say that. I used to say stuff like that, but I’m on a curse diet.” Sort of . “You saw my twin sister. My crazy twin sister, who was trying to kill my dog.”

“What?” The runner leaned over, frowning in disbelief. His hair was dark and thick, and he pushed lanky bangs from his eyes.

“My twin was the one throwing the ball. She cursed you out. I was out rowing, in that boat.” Bennie gestured at the river behind her, and the runner peered past her shoulder.