Page 124 of It Happened on the Lake

Harper’s heart twisted a bit as she looked at it. Evan’s pride and joy.

“It’s a Honda, right? I kind of remember when your brother got it. New at the time, like maybe 1966?”

“Yeah.” Harper nodded, thinking back, remembering Evan literally jumping for joy when he saw the bike for the first time, a huge red bow tied to one of the Honda’s grips. All smiles, he took off on the motorcycle, speeding across the bridge, then onto Northway, where he disappeared, though Harper could hear the bike revving through its gears as he pushed the speed limit. He returned fifteen minutes later, the bike speeding over the bridge to skid to a stop in front of the garage where she was waiting with Gram and her parents. Harper said, “He got it for his birthday.”

“And every boy at Almsville High was jealous.” Beth bit her lip. “So it was barely driven, then?”

“Right.” The smile that had been teasing Harper’s lips at the memory faded away.

Beth touched the bike’s seat. “You know I hadsucha crush on him back then.”

“I did know.” It wasn’t like Beth had ever been anything but transparent or that she hadn’t whispered her feelings to Harper on every sleepover or lit up like a Christmas tree whenever Evan was around.

Beth sighed dramatically, just as she had as a lovelorn teen lying on Harper’s bed, staring at the ceiling, pouring her heart out. “But, of course, I had to get in line. A very long line.”

That much was true. In high school Evan had an extended list of girlfriends and an even longer one of wannabes. Good-looking and charming, with a “bad-boy” attitude, he charmed more than his share of girls, some older, some younger, and all, Harper suspected, with an eye on his bank account.

Pushing an errant strand of hair from her face, Beth added, “You know, I always thought that he’d found someone who caught his attention at that house next door to me, growing up. The yellow one. Remember? At the end of the street and owned by the Musgrave family. I checked on its ownership once, as I had a client who was interested. Anyway, they, the Musgraves, never sold and own it to this day. It’s still a rental, I think, but I haven’t seen anyone around for a while, so I’m not sure.

“But back in the day all kinds of college-age kids lived there. Kind of a commune, if you ask me. Before communes were even a real thing. But the hippie movement was kind of just getting started.” Harper had known as much. Chase had told her something similar.

“Trust me, something was going on there. Free love. That sort of thing. And they were dropping acid, smoking pot, and I think, or I heard, using peyote. Brought up by one of their roommates, a kid from Texas.”

“They were students.”

“If you say so,” Beth said, lifting a shoulder as a fly buzzed around her head. “Get out of here,” she muttered, swatting at it. “Where’s a spider when you need one?”

“Oh, I think we have our share.” The corners of the garage were draped in cobwebs and spiders’ nests.

The fly got the hint and buzzed off to crawl around the edge of a window.

Beth focused on the conversation again. “I don’t think all of the kids that lived in the Musgraves’ house were going to college, or at least not full time.”

“You know this, how?” Harper asked, though it didn’t really matter, and she was ready to end this tour.

“Chase told me.”

“Chase?” Harper tensed, just as she always did when she thought of Chase, which, before she returned to the island had been less and less over the years. But now that she was back in this house, the memory of the night he went missing, the night Gram died, seemed ever-present, exacerbated by the tragedy of Cynthia Hunt’s hellish death. “When did Chase tell you that?”

“I don’t know. It’s been so long . . .” Beth thought for a moment, her fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the Corvette’s windshield. “A week, maybe two, before he vanished.” She cleared her throat as if in so doing she could rid her mind of the memories of Chase and that awful night. Then she quickly changed the subject. “So these classic cars and the bike. Would you be interested in selling them?”

“I don’t know. I just haven’t got that far yet.”

Yes! Damn it! The answer is “yes.” Why can’t you just admit it? You need to sell this place, Harper, and everything in it. Get away A.S.A.P. Before the past swallows you, or what’s left of you.Somehow, she found her voice. “I’ll think about it. So, do you want to see the rest of the house?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got to make it quick. I’ve got that showing.”

Good.

Harper gave her a quick tour of the apartment in the garret over the garage. It was connected to the second floor of the house through a door that was now locked, the other access being an outdoor staircase running up the side of the garage.

“Now this is great,” Beth said, eyeing the interior with its sloped ceilings and paned windows. Decades before it had been retrofitted with a kitchenette and a small, private bath. “It would be a nice mother-in-law space or maybe for a college kid, or even as a rental unit.”

“I guess.”

“I think Craig lived here for a while. Didn’t he? After his mom and dad split up?” She bit her lip and looked around. “Yeah, I remember. For sure he did.”

Harper nodded. “Uh-huh,” she said and recalled how uncomfortable it had all felt. Not at first, but as she’d grown from a gawky tomboy into a teenager with curves she had caught him watching her as she sunbathed. He’d helped his dad with yard work, trimming the grass and shrubbery, washing the cars, or cleaning out the gutters, whatever odd job was needed. But more than once he’d set down his gloves and shears to stare at her as she lay on the dock while she rifled through copies ofSeventeenorTeenmagazine. She also perusedTrue Confessions, which her grandmother deemed inappropriate—which, of course, made reading the taboo copies all the more exciting.