Page 22 of It Happened on the Lake

Maybe she’d been mistaken.

Maybe Chase was in the boat and she hadn’t seen him. Maybe he’d fallen asleep.

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder to the island. For a second she thought she saw movement on the dock. A shadow slinking by the stairs—but no. It was just the willow tree, bare branches moving in the wind.

She turned her attention to Fox Point and rapidly began rowing, dipping her oar in and out of the water, pushing the canoe forward.

Closer to the boat rocking slightly on the water.

But it was empty; no one on board.

Circling the boat, she eyed the water. With each stroke of her oar, her fear deepened.

It was too dark to see below the surface, but even as she squinted and searched, she found it hard to fathom that Chase, an athlete and excellent swimmer, would have drowned. So . . . what then?

“Where are you?” she whispered into the night, and though she dreaded what she might see, she pulled the flashlight from her pocket and shone its yellow beam into the water. Heart pounding, she searched the depths and half expected Chase’s bloated face to surface, blond hair floating around him.

She thought she heard an oar dip into the water and froze.

Was someone nearby?

She looked around quickly. “Chase?” she said, goose bumps rising on her arms. “Chase, is that you?” She spun the canoe around, but all was quiet now. She shone her light in the direction of the sound. “This isn’t funny.”

But the night remained still.

Only the sound of a frog croaking somewhere.

Maybe she’d just heard the sound of a fish jumping or a duck landing or . . .

She heard the noise again and swung her flashlight wildly, once more finding nothing.

Swallowing back her fear, telling herself that she was just jumpy, she started paddling again, faster and faster, to the far shore. She felt as if hidden eyes were upon her, that her every move was being followed, but she shoved her case of nerves aside and concentrated on Chase.

Maybe for some unknown reason, he had returned home or been forced to.

Without the boat?

She couldn’t come up with an answer, not one that made any sense. Even if the engine hadn’t started, it could be rowed . . . or not. Maybe that was the problem. The engine had died and Chase had decided to swim home and get help from his brother, Levi, or maybe his best friend. She’d heard that Rand Watkins was home on leave from the army, maybe . . .

Oh, please!

Emotions raw, fear raging, she kept rowing toward the south shore.

Hard.

Fast.

She spotted the Hunt house located at the very tip of the point, the “fox’s nose” according to some locals. Weak light filtered from the kitchen window.

The neighboring two houses, the Watkins’ A-frame and the Leonettis’ split level, remained dark.

Good!

Those three families—Leonettis, Watkins, and Hunts—spent a lot of time together hanging out on their docks, having neighborhood barbecues and parties and such. Harper had always envied them their closeness. She knew the distance between the neighbors on the point and her family on the island and far shore was wider than the stretch of water physically separating them. The beach ran deeper. But she wasn’t going to think about that now. She was too scared. Too worried.

She rowed the canoe along the shoreline and decided she couldn’t risk tying up on any of the private docks. The chance of being seen or heard was too great.

Instead, she moved a little farther on, toward town and the community swim park. Less than a quarter of a mile from the point, it was easy to spot as a nearby street lamp gave off a faint, filtered illumination.

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