Page 254 of It Happened on the Lake

“She’s in on this, too?” Harper felt a sharp jab of disappointment. She and Beth had been so close once.

“She doesn’t know any of it,” he admitted. “And she can’t. She’d divorce me like that if she knew.” He snapped his fingers. “I did it for her. And for Max. He’s a smart kid. About to go to college, except there’s no money.”

So there it was.

“Without me getting a job like this,” he said, motioning to the house again, “or one like it, Max can kiss Oregon State goodbye.”

“Because?”

“Because we’ve got debts. Major debts.”

“You gamble,” she surmised, remembering his recent phone call and his anger.

“No—no. I just had to borrow,” he admitted. “Personal loan. High interest rate and it’s due. Beth doesn’t know. She’s already got one foot out the door,” he admitted. So he knew about Beth and Levi. How desperate was he? She noticed by the lines creasing his forehead that he was weighing his options. “I need this job, Harper. It’s for my family.” He was too close now and his jaw had hardened.

“Stop right there!” she warned.

He didn’t.

Instead he sprang and lunged for the gun.

She scrambled backward and tripped over the flashlight. The gun flew out of her hands to skitter across the grimy floor. She saw it all in the weird, moving light washing over the walls and floor as the flashlight rolled away.

No!

She leapt for the gun.

Craig caught her by the ankle and yanked hard.

Her hip screamed. She went down, cracking her knees, her head banging against the wall of the furnace. “Stop! Just stop, Harper,” he said, but she didn’t.

She kicked hard with her free foot, slamming her heel into his face.

He sucked in his breath.

His grip loosened for a second and she spied the poker. Within reach by the furnace.

She stretched.

Her fingers wound around it as he pulled on her leg, her hip screaming in pain. She swung the iron rod hard.

Downward.

Aiming for his head.

He shifted suddenly.

Thud!

The blow landed hard on his shoulder, sending him reeling, his grip on her loosening. “You fucking bitch!” He let go of her to grab the poker before she could swing again.

Frantic, she scooted closer to the shotgun.

He was bigger than she and stronger, more athletic. She’d been foolish to take him on, but here she was and now cornered. What had she said about this old house with its winding tunnels, various staircases, and dark corners? That there were a million places to hide in it. She’d better find one fast. Or better yet, get out of here completely and find help.

A phone.

If she could get to a phone.

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