Beyond the Reflection’s Edge Read Online Free PDF Page A

through the opening and rolled into the river.
    “My backpack!” Nathan reached over the seat and grabbed the strap. With water gushing in all around, he slipped off his dress shoes, took a deep breath, and dove out the window. He paddled furiously in the icy water, trying to keep his head above the wake of passing sailboats.
    A splash erupted next to his shoulder, followed by a loud
Crack!
from up above. Nathan looked up at the bridge. The gray-bearded man had perched atop a supporting pylon, a pistol at the end of his outstretched arms.
    Clara spat out a stream of water. “Dive!”
    Nathan dove into the cloudy river. It would hide them, at least until they had to come back up for air. Weighed down by water, his backpack felt like concrete, but he couldn’t let it go. Dad’s mirror was inside.
    A bullet splashed above and ricocheted off his shoulder, slowed by the watery cushion. Hiding helped, but they couldn’tstay under forever. He popped back to the surface and shook the water from his hair. Clara appeared next to him. “Gotta get the mirror!” he called.
    As the limo’s roof sank below the rippling waves, Nathan unzipped the pack and grabbed the wrapped mirror, shivering so hard he could barely breathe. He finally let go of the strap and let the backpack sink to the bottom.
    A bullet pierced the foaming surface, nicking a toe on Nathan’s foot, again too slow to do any damage. He threw off the bundle’s cloth wrappings, revealing the square mirror.
    Clara flailed in the water, sputtering, “What are you doing?”
    “Dad told me to look at it if I get in trouble.” He angled the glass until he could see the bearded man standing on the pylon. With the bridge now beginning to close, the gunman lowered his weapon and jogged out onto the metal ramp.
    From somewhere behind Nathan, music played over a raspy PA system. Nathan swiveled toward the sound. A tourist boat headed their way. Passengers leaned close to the edge taking pictures, their cameras flashing every half second.
    Kicking madly to prop up his shivering body, he spun back to the mirror. He had to concentrate. His father never gave a warning without a good reason.
    In the reflection, the man aimed his gun once again. Nathan cringed. Where was a cop when you needed one? A bullet ripped through the frame, shattering it in his grip. He juggled the mirror, finally grabbing the bare glass with both hands. Resisting the urge to glance up at the bridge, he pulled the glass closer. In the reflected image, the police arrived and nabbed the gunman.
    Another bullet zinged into the river. Clara grabbed Nathan’s elbow to help him stay above water. “Don’t turn,” she said. “Keep focused!”
    Spitting oily water as the waves slapped against his lips, Nathan changed the mirror’s angle slightly. The bridge had closed, and cars were crossing again.
    “Okay.” Clara let go of him. “It’s safe now.”
    Nathan turned and looked up at the bridge. Two policemen cuffed the gunman as the span lowered to a close. He squinted at the scene. That had already happened. How did—?
    A flotation ring splashed at his side. Another one bumped Clara’s shoulder. They turned to the source, following the trail of two lifelines to the tourist boat. While a crowd of passengers looked on, two men held the ropes and waved, yelling something that the wind carried away.
    Nathan grabbed his ring and made sure Clara had a good hold on hers. Still clinging to the mirror, he rode the swift tugs toward the boat. Whatever this Quattro viewer was, it held a lot more mystery than met the eye.
    Nathan pulled a blanket around his body and tucked it in at the sides. It felt good — snug, cozy, warm. The car’s vent blew a jet of heated air across his face, adding to the pleasure. Wearing a pair of mid-top boots borrowed from the tour boat captain, an oversized Chicago Bulls sweatshirt that one of the tourists stripped off as soon as Nathan climbed aboard, and jeans, gym socks, and