Page 104 of It Happened on the Lake

F inally.

Sitting in the dark, Harper heard the key turn in the lock of the storm door.

She raised the shotgun to her shoulder, pointing its double barrel toward the chute.

With a creak the door opened, and she felt a rush of cold night air seep into the basement.

Finger on the trigger, nerves strung tight as bowstrings, she didn’t move. Her heart was pounding, sweat collecting on the back of her neck.

Come on in , she silently welcomed, straining to listen as she heard him enter, pushing his legs through the opening, then with a soft nerve-wracking whoosh sliding his body down the chute.

His feet landed with a quiet thud.

Craig .

The back of her neck tensed, and she stared in the direction of the bin that he landed in. Though her eyes were accustomed to the darkness, she could barely make out his dark form, felt his presence more than saw him.

She sensed he was on his feet. Straightened.

“Hold it right there,” she ordered.

“What—?”

She switched on her flashlight, aimed upward, right into his startled eyes.

Craig froze, his face a mask of confusion. He winced against the intense light and held up a hand to shield his eyes as he stepped backward.

“Don’t move!” She dropped the flashlight and hoisted the shotgun to her shoulder.

“What the fuck?” he said, regaining some composure as she slowly stood, leveling the gun at his chest while the flashlight shone from the floor, illuminating his feet and legs but now leaving his face in shadow.

She steadied the gun.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked.

“I live here.”

“But here, with the gun? Put it down. It’s me.”

“I know who you are. I saw you coming. What’re you doing here?” she countered. “Why the hell are you sneaking around in here?”

When he didn’t respond, she pretended surprise. “What? Cat got your tongue? Oh, I mean dead cat got your tongue?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Put the gun down, Harper. You’re not going to shoot it down here. Shit, there would be buckshot everywhere. You’d kill us both!”

“I asked you a question. Why are you here?”

She saw the lie forming in the shadows of his face. “I came to the door. No one answered and I knew—”

“Bullshit, Craig. I saw you leave. You came in your boat tonight. Like you have before.” She was watching him and in the feeble light noticed his face changing from surprise and thinking he could cajole her to a suppressed anger evident in the thin line of his lips, the way his eyes narrowed.

“Just give me the gun.”

“No way. You tell me why you’re trying to scare the living crap out of me!

Ever since I got back here and maybe before, you’ve been sneaking into this house.

Leaving me little surprises.” Her anger was getting the better of her now.

“Dolls with sick messages moving around the house? ICU? What the hell was that all about? Meaning I see you, like you were watching me, right? Kind of a sick joke.” She could tell from his reaction, the blink, that she’d hit the nail on the head. Twisted bastard!

“I didn’t . . . I wasn’t . . .”

“You did! And you were! I caught you here tonight. For the love of God, Craig, do you think I’m a moron?

I know you moved the dolls around in my house while I was asleep!

I know you stole my cat and put his collar on one of the dolls.

I know you dug up poor Earline and left her body for me in the tower room hoping I’d find it and freak out.

Well, it worked! Mission accomplished!” she said, her fury mounting.

“But what I don’t know, what I can’t for the life of me understand, is why. ”

“You’re a smart girl,” he said, and he was moving slightly, out of the flashlight’s glow. “You figure it out.”

“Stop!”

He didn’t. He kept inching to her right, trying to avoid the light.

“Smart enough to get into Stanford, right? And tuition wouldn’t be a problem because it would have been all paid for from this.

” He motioned upward, to include the massive house above them, and for just a second Harper thought she heard the floorboards overhead squeak, as if the house was protesting.

“You never had to work a day in your pampered life. Everything handed to you on a silver platter.” He snorted in disgust. “I didn’t come here to hurt you, Harper.

If I’d wanted to do that, I could have.”

“You just wanted to terrorize me into selling. With your twisted, juvenile pranks. You thought you’d push me into moving out, hiring you to fix up the house, and then hiring your wife to list it and sell it.”

“Because you weren’t going to sell,” he surmised, and she turned, keeping the gun trained on him. He was unstable. Desperate. “You were hesitating. Beth said so.”

“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.

She snatched the gun and threw herself behind a furnace. She had to get out of here. To hide somewhere. To save herself.

The flashlight moved, the beam shining over the walls.

He had it.

Damn, damn, damn!

“Where are you, Harper?” he said, his voice reverberating through the cavernous basement. She’d been an idiot to think she could take him, her anger getting the better of her. And now he was tracking her down as if she were prey.

But she had the shotgun.

If she had the guts to use it.

As he was between her and the stairs leading to the main house, she was forced to slink toward the door to the tunnel. Inching along the wall, watching as the flashlight’s beam washed over the old walls, she crept silently.

He was getting closer, the beam nearly at her feet when she reached the door to the tunnel and quietly turned the knob, silently praying it wasn’t locked. The door opened with a loud creak.

At the noise the beam of the flashlight moved swiftly, catching her in its glare.

She ran.

Fast as she was able, she slipped through the door and ran, tripping on the steps, but somehow managing to stay on her feet.

If she could get to the boathouse, she could dive into the water, hide from him, and surface wherever she chose.

She could swim to Rand’s house or Levi’s or even the Sievers’. It wasn’t that far.

She heard him behind her.

Breathing hard, big footsteps speeding, the flashlight catching her.

“Stop!” he yelled at her.

God in heaven, he was so close.

Frantic, she told herself she could use the shotgun if she absolutely had to. Even though she’d never shot a living creature in her life. The targets she’d practiced on years before were all clay pigeons, inanimate discs.

But things had changed.

And now, she realized, she could no longer threaten or intimidate him with the loaded gun. He wouldn’t believe for a second that she would actually fire at him.

So she ran. As fast as she could. The boathouse was just ahead, the lake a few more steps. She could swim away. Or she could shoot him. She’d figure it out soon.

She heard him clambering behind her, his footsteps growing louder, though they echoed as if there were more people pursuing her, a host of assassins trailing behind him.

Run, Harper, run!

She was running blind, the tunnel ahead of her dark, the steps within causing her to stumble. The footsteps behind her got louder. Closer. The flashlight’s beam piercing the darkness.

Zing!

A dart zipped past the side of her head.

Oh crap!

She redoubled her efforts, running in a zigzag pattern.

Zing!