Page 147 of It Happened on the Lake

Yes, they had left a weird message on the dolls and possibly stolen her cat, just to taunt her? Would the police even care?

Certainly they would think that whoever was doing this wasn’t seriously dangerous.

Yet.

Otherwise she would be dead or maimed and back in the hospital. It was almost as if some ghost of the past was trying to intimidate her, wanting her to leave.

Except she didn’t believe in such nonsense.

“This isn’t Amityville,” she reminded herself as she carried her cup into the parlor and then, noticing that the door to Gram’s bedroom was ajar, she went to close it. As she did, she caught a glimpse of the bed.

There, wedged perfectly between Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy, sat Maude.

Chapter 37

Forget the historical society.

Forget any other place that might want the dolls for donations.

“You sneaky son of a bitch,” Harper muttered as she dropped the trio of dolls she’d found in Gram’s room right into the garbage can in the garage.

Maude and Toodles, lumped together. Of course, there were lots more dolls throughout the house. Tons of them. Harper planned to round them up and dump them, too. But for now, at least the worst of the lot were out there.

Until they crawl back in the middle of the night.

“Nope,” Harper said aloud. She wasn’t going there.

The garbage would be picked up tomorrow. She’d already confirmed that when she’d made her calls to the utilities.

Who was behind the stupid prank?

And why?

Someone was obviously trying to scare her off.

Names ran through her head as she breathed in the pre-dawn air, so cold her breath was visible. Lou Arista, the sleazy attorney Gram had hired, wanted her to sell. He might be worried about a lawsuit against him for the way he’d handled Harper’s trust. But the childish antics with the doll were beneath him. And he no longer had a key.

Then there was her ex-husband. He’d always talked about her inheritance and how she could sell the house for a fortune. “Not a small fortune, mind you,” he’d advised on more than one occasion. But he was out of the picture. And again, without a key.

What about the people who lived across the lake on Fox Point? They were the only people who were connected to her or the island. Taking off her jacket, she forced herself to calm down. The thought of a drink sifted through her mind, but she resisted. Good God, it wasn’t even eight in the morning.

Just to be certain she was alone, she grabbed a butcher knife from the block on the kitchen counter, then searched the house top to bottom, as best she could. She found no one hiding in the closets or cowering in the shadows. She checked the doors as her grandmother had taught her, the whole points of the star routine, and found all entrances buttoned up and locked.

But someone had gotten in.

Someone evil had broken through Gram’s feeble line of defense.

Nonetheless, she believed she was alone despite the ever-present feeling of hidden eyes watching her. How could she ever be certain? There were just so many nooks, crannies, entrances, and staircases in this old Victorian. And some lowlife had found access.

Nonetheless, for the moment, she told herself she was alone, that the intruder, whoever he was, had gone, that all her lingering fears were only manifested in her head.

For now.

She thought about Jinx again, still had his collar in her pocket, but tried to push her worries about him aside for the moment.

As she walked into the parlor, she picked up the pair of field glasses she’d left on a side table, then peered through the lenses.

The sky was beginning to pale.

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