Page 118 of It Happened on the Lake

“Maybe, but—”

“You don’t know.” Her eyes finally met Harper’s again. “And so you just found it and thought ‘oh well, I guess I’ll just put it out with the garbage?’”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Come on, Harper. Really? Instead of going to the police?” Her eyes rounded.

“And say what? That I found a doll with a weird message on it in my bathroom? Don’t you think that they have better things to do?”

“But—that!” Beth pointed at the doll. “It’s . . . way beyond creepy. Way beyond! Don’t say it doesn’t bother you, because it would freak the hell out of me.” She eyed the doll speculatively. “It was in your bathroom?” Beth bit her lip. “When did you find it?”

“Early this morning.”

“You didn’t see it before?”

“No. It wasn’t there.”

“Wait. You think someone put it there since you moved in?” she asked, obviously dumbfounded.

“I don’t think I would have missed it.” She thought about telling Beth about the missing gun, but Beth would only freak out more. Besides, with all she’d been drinking, Harper wasn’t really sure what she’d done with Gramps’s pistol.

“Jesus God, I’d move out immediately!” Beth said.

“I’m not going to let some stupid prank scare me away.” Harper was surprised at the conviction in her voice. But it was true.

“I would. The next time it might not just be a doll.” She eyed the nearby window. “How did he get in?”

“Over here.” Harper headed through the parlor, and Beth followed. As she did, she eyed the room with its antique furniture and dozens of dolls. “Oh my God. There are more of them. Like a doll army.”

“You remember that Gram collected them.”

“I don’t remember there were this many, and I sure don’t remember how creepy they all are. I probably thought it was cool and, well, the point is just because your grandmother collected these old things doesn’t mean you have to. Seriously, I’d get rid of every last one of them. I mean, some might be valuable, I guess, but either dump them in the trash or take them to a dealer or something.” She touched Harper on the arm. “I know you were close to your grandmother and all, but it’s time to clean this place out.”

Harper had reached the window and showed Beth how she’d secured it.

“But how did whoever did this know about the window or that you’d be back . . . and you think they were in here while you were asleep?” Her brow furrowed. “That’s really scary.”

“And you’re not helping me feel any better about it. Look, just in case this isn’t the way whoever it was got in, I’ve called a locksmith. New keys for all the doors. He’s coming this afternoon.”

“But the windows?”

“The locksmith is going to go over each one. He’s a handyman, too. And if he finds any he can’t repair, he’s got the name of a window company.”

“Look, while I’m here, why don’t you show me around?” Beth suggested. “You know, in case you decide to sell. I don’t have time to do a full assessment. But we can do that later. You’ve got a basement, right?”

“Two floors below this one, but—”

“Okay, then let’s start there and work our way up.”

“It’s got to be a mess,” Harper argued. “I haven’t even gone down there and who knows what we’ll find.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can’t believe what I see in my business.” Beth rolled her eyes. “Rats. Squirrels. Mice. Wasps’ nests, rot and mold, even a dead raccoon once.” She flashed a smile. “You can’t scare me off that easily.”

“But the dolls freak you out.”

“And how! Especially weird-looking ones with cryptic messages,” she said. “Now, come on, let’s see this place. It’s been years!”

“Fine, but remember: I’m not sure I’m going to sell.”

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