Page 179 of It Happened on the Lake

After she’d dealt with the irritating flying pest.

She eyed the ceiling and in the dim light caught sight of a myriad of spots where it could conceal itself. Through the bedrooms and bathrooms on the second floor and then she heard the whirring again. In the hallway. She dashed out to see the thing fly upward to the third story and her bedroom. “No,” she cried, as if she could control it. “Don’t you dare.”

Armed with the broom, she mounted the stairs and eyed the hallway. All the doors to the servants’ quarters were closed tight, and sure enough, she heard the distinctive sound of the bat’s wings as it flew in dizzying circles around the ceiling. “You can’t stay here,” she said. “No way.”

But right now, there it was, flying as high as it could, in frantic circles.

Remember, it’s more scared than you. It wants out as badly as you want it gone.

Heart pounding, adrenaline screaming through her bloodstream, she left the door open and mounted the stairs to the turret room at the top of the manor. Once inside, she went straight to the window farthest from the desk. She slid it open, feeling a rush of night air, then yanked out the screen and hoped to heaven that the damned bat would find its way out.

Setting her jaw, she made her way back to her room.

Silence.

“Where are you?” she whispered, and though it was against her most basic instincts, she turned out the lights and stepped into the hallway. “Come on, come on,” she urged, though why she was talking to a bat made no sense at all. She didn’t really fear them, but their quickness and the way they darted startled her, put her nerves on edge. And there was rabies to consider. If it decided to attack, which it wouldn’t. Still, either the bat found its way outside or she would have to trap it, maybe kill it.

Where was the cat when she needed him?

Not that he’d ever caught a mouse, much less a flying bat.

But she couldn’t think of Jinx right now. And she wanted the bat to take off, fly away, it didn’t need to die.

She waited.

Nothing.

The seconds turned into minutes.

Why was the damned thing quiet now?

“Just leave,” she mouthed.

Maybe it could sense her. Smell her or use echolocation? She had to move, to let the damn thing fly out of her room and hopefully up the stairs and out the window. Otherwise she would have to actually trap it or kill it.

She left the upstairs dark and went to the main floor, where she poured herself a drink. One surely wouldn’t hurt, especially since her very last nerve was frayed.

She waited.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen.

Finally, at nearly half an hour, broom in hand, she mounted the stairs again and stopped at her room. Turned on the light.

Nothing.

She scoured the room with her eyes and waited, her gaze moving over all the nooks and crannies near the ceiling and saw no evidence of the bat. Relief! Then she checked her bed.

Her sleeping bag was unzipped and she tossed it, half expecting a tiny winged beast to fly into her face.

Didn’t happen.

She was breathing hard, nervous as hell, certain the damned thing would fly out.

But nothing.

O—kay.

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