Page 148 of It Happened on the Lake

Across the lake one window in the Sievers’ bungalow was lit, a small upper window, possibly a bathroom. The rest of the house was dark, unlike it had been years before with all the security lamps. But no one there had any interest in gaslighting her.

Next door was the Watkins’ A-frame. A few lights glowed. She couldn’t help but wonder about Rand with his hard jaw, keen eyes, and military bearing. She had a feeling he didn’t miss much, that he was suspicious by nature. He was far harder-edged than she remembered him, any hint of boyishness long eroded by time and experience and yet, as in the past, she found him much more layered than Chase had been. Or Joel, for that matter.

Now he was a police detective, had almost literally stepped into his father’s hated shoes, and, it seemed, was a detective looking to solve a cold case or two. But even if he was digging into the past—her past—why would he stoop to such childish/terrorizing tactics of defacing dolls and using them to menace her? What would be the point?

Unless he knew more about Chase’s disappearance than he’d ever let on?

Unless he thought she might somehow blow his cover?

Maybe he wasn’t digging through the past looking for answers.

Maybe he wasn’t digging at all, just shifting the sands, covering up.

But did that make any sense? She didn’t think so. And knowing Rand, she couldn’t believe he was behind any of this. No, scratch him off the suspect list.

Also, how would he get in?

He’d never had a key that she knew of, and even if he did, it wouldn’t work now.

Sipping from her cup, she saw him walk through his kitchen in boxer shorts and battered T-shirt that stretched across his shoulders. He was muscled and fit, as if he kept to a regular exercise regimen. She saw him drink what appeared to be a glass of water, then disappear. The bedroom light switched on, but the shades were drawn and she had no idea what he was doing. A minute later she saw him again, in a sweatshirt and running shorts. He retrieved a rain jacket, slipped into it, and then was out of sight again.

Running?

Probably.

Maybe changing up his routine from the stationary bike to a jog?

But who cared?

The point was that there was no reason she could think of that he would try some parlor trick to get her to leave.

She wondered about him as she turned her attention to the Hunts’ cottage. Now dark.

Was there a reason Levi would want Harper to leave? Did he blame her for Cynthia’s death and all the other tragedies that his family had endured?

But the dolls? Nah. Wasn’t his style. She and he had been friends a long, long time ago, and she couldn’t imagine that boy stooping to sneaking into her house and messing with the stupid dolls. To scare her? To punish her?

No, she didn’t believe it.

He’s no longer a boy now but a man.

A man who has reasons to distrust her.

A man who could have blamed her for so many things.

A man who has more reason than you might know to want her far, far away.

She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening on the cup as she thought back to the nights she’d used him. Betrayed him. How she’d known that he was in love with her and how wickedly delicious that knowledge had been at eighteen. How she’d used it. How she’d used him.

She bit her lip and felt more than one jab of guilt.

Don’t go there. Don’t even think about it. That was all long, long ago. Think about the here and now.

She blinked at an unexpected burn of tears. As if regrets now could change anything. As she looked through the lenses, across the calm water, she asked herself how, even if he wanted to, would he have access to the inside of this monster of a house?

It was locked.

But he might have a key, right? Didn’t you slip one to Chase when you were so crazy about him? Didn’t you take it off Gram’s key chain and later that night, when you were alone on the dock with him, offer it up? Didn’t he willingly take it?

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