Bad Intentions

Начало книги

The lake, which was commonly known as Dead Water, lay like a well between steep mountains, and anyone who tried to wade into it would sink up to their knees in its soft mud. On the shore, partially hidden by spruce trees sat a small log cabin. Axel Frimann was looking out of the window. It was almost midnight on 13 September and the moon cast a pale blue light across the water. There was something magical about it all. At any moment, Axel imagined, a water sprite might rise from the depths. Just as the image came to him, he thought he saw a ripple in the water as though something was about to surface. But nothing happened and a smile, which no one noticed, crossed his face.

He turned to the other two and suggested that they should go rowing. ‘Have you seen the light?’ he said. ‘It’s really cool.’

Philip Reilly was reading. He tossed his long hair.

‘Yes, why not?’ he said. ‘A trip on the lake. What do you say, Jon?’

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