Page 134 of It Happened on the Lake

From across the lake, a dog barked. Then another. And she didn’t hear the motor of Chase’s boat, but he was probably far across the lake by now and . . . or had someone shot at him? From here, from the house or terrace above?

No, no, no!

Her mind spun to horrible scenarios. All involving a bloody, gunshot chase. She let out a little mewl, then stopped short.Don’t freak out, Harper! Do not freak out!

Her heart was beating so fast she thought it would fly out of her chest. She had to move, to do something.

Screeeecch.

What the hell was that?

The horrid grinding of metal on metal was, again, coming from above.

The tram? Starting its downward descent?

Sure enough, she heard the car clunking its way down the sharp hillside and caught a glimpse of its single headlight shining through the trees. She squinted, tried to see who was inside. Was it someone with a gun descending from the house?

Why?

Who?

Frantic, heart pumping wildly, her dress sliding off one shoulder, she ran barefoot to the path leading up the hillside.

Thud!

Dear God, what was that?

Footsteps?

Did she hear footsteps?

She flattened against the side of the cliff and hardly dared breathe. What was going on? Who had a gun? Or was it a gun? Had a car backfired? Or some kid set off firecrackers left over from the Fourth of July?

No, no, no! It was too close, and she knew a gunshot when she heard it. Had gone with her father for target practice at the gun club when she was younger.

Hadn’t anyone else heard the gunshot?

Of course not!

You’re all alone.

Remember?

No one is at the gatekeeper’s house. Dad and Marcia are at the Hilton in Portland for some sales conference. Evan is out with friends. Even the gardener, Martin Alexander, and his kid, Craig, are out of town on a camping trip.

Gram’s in the hospital recovering from a gall bladder attack, her caretaker off duty. That’s why you met Chase tonight, so you could be alone with him.

Blood pounded through her ears.

Panic threatened.

Over the whir of the tram’s motor and the thudding of her own heart, she thought she heard footsteps. Running footsteps? Or was that her imagination? Oh God, was there a gunman on the island?

In the tram?

Or . . . ?

Her blood turned to ice, and she searched frantically in the darkness.No, no, no!Starlight and illumination from a crescent moon were weak. Still, she saw no dark figure scurrying furtively away. No bushes moving as a person skulked past.

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