Page 13 of It Happened on the Lake

T he last person, the very last person Levi Hunt wanted to deal with was Harper Reed. Make that Harper Reed Prescott. She’d married since he’d last seen her twenty years earlier.

He’d kept track.

And had kicked himself for doing so.

Now, as a dreary dawn broke over the city and he stood peering through a small window into the ICU where he could view his injured mother, he knew he’d have to talk to Harper.

I should be thankful , he told himself. If it weren’t for Harper spying his mother on the flaming boat, Cynthia Hunt might not have survived.

Then again, if not for Harper, the entire Hunt family history could have been so much different and, he was certain, so much less tragic.

Maybe Chase would still be around. Maybe his father would be alive.

Maybe.

But who knew?

He wasn’t one for conjecture or “what ifs,” but he couldn’t help but think Harper Reed was a curse upon his family.

He watched as a doctor with a shock of white hair and rimless glasses examined his mother.

She was swaddled in bandages, unconscious in a hospital bed, IVs and monitors hooked up to her.

From his vantage point, Levi saw that the individual “rooms” of the ICU were just partitioned by curtains, fanned out so that anyone in the nurse’s station could keep an eye on the patients. There were three that he could see, unmoving bodies on beds, hooked up to monitors and IVs.

Fuck.

Staring through the glass at the form on the hospital bed, Levi had trouble believing the comatose fire victim was Cynthia Hunt, the once-vivacious and happy-go-lucky woman who smoked and drank and told bawdy jokes and took in stray puppies.

But that particular woman had been gone a long time, ever since Chase disappeared.

Now his mother looked much like a mummy.

Her face was covered in white gauze, space for her nose, eyes, and mouth left clear. Her arms and hands were also covered, no fingers visible, the rest of her hidden by a sheet.

He swallowed hard, and his jaw ached, it was so tight.

How had it all come to this?

Why had she been on the boat?

Why was it on fire?

Why had Harper been involved?

The police, so far, were being pretty mum on the whole situation, but he planned on talking to Rand. Now a detective with the department, Rand Watkins would have the inside scoop.

If he would share it.

The doctor, Frank Costello, was the town’s oldest GP and had delivered both Levi and Chase. As he finished his cursory exam, Costello paused to say something to the nurse at the desk before walking toward the hallway. Levi watched as Costello pressed a button unlocking the secure area.

As the door clanged open, Levi approached the doctor. “How is she? My mother. Is she going to be . . .” He almost asked if she would be okay, but that would have been ridiculous. She wasn’t okay before this last horrible fire and now . . .

“She’s doing as well as can be expected, considering.”

Meaning that she was alive. Barely.

“Walk with me,” the doctor said, checking his watch.

“We’re transferring her to Mercy General,” he said and went on to explain that St. Catherine’s, in the small community of Almsville, didn’t have the equipment, space, or staff that the burn unit in Mercy General could provide.

“All the best care there,” he was saying, “state of the art.” He went on about the Portland hospital being newer, larger, and better equipped to care for burn victims. But it was just white noise to Levi.

He had gone through so many other conversations like this about members of his family that they all ran together.

“. . . She should be there in two, maybe three, hours or so. They’ll need time to admit her, and Dr. Horn will want to examine her, of course.” Dr. Costello paused and clapped Levi on the shoulder. “It’s what’s best.”

Was it?

Keeping a woman alive who would never be herself again?

He had his doubts as they walked down the pristine hallway where the tile floors gleamed under the fluorescent lights and the smell of antiseptic was strong, masking whatever other odors existed.

“I would guess you could visit her again this evening, maybe sooner.”

“Will she know I’m there?” Levi finally asked as they passed a nurse pushing a rattling cart of medications in the opposite direction.

“She’s still comatose and . . .” Costello didn’t finish his sentence, didn’t state the obvious, that it was best for Cynthia Hunt to remain unconscious.

At least for now. And inwardly Levi wondered what to wish for.

Years of plastic surgery and physical therapy and pain for a woman whose mind had already begun to fail her?

Or a quick and hopefully painless death?

His jaw tightened, and he hated himself for his thoughts.

“Talk to Dr. Horn,” Costello said. “She’s the best Portland has to offer.” He gave Levi a kind smile and walked away, past a nurse pushing a patient in a wheelchair toward the elevators.

Levi hesitated.

He should just go home.

Leave well enough alone.

But he couldn’t.

Not knowing that Harper, too, had been admitted.

Earlier, posing as a relative, he’d called the hospital and managed to get the number of her room. So even though he told himself he didn’t want to see her, he felt compelled. As a man pushing a walker, a rolling IV attached to him, inched by, Levi toyed with the idea of seeing her.

What good would it do?

More importantly, what harm?

It had been two decades since he’d seen her on the other side of the window of Chase’s room. He remembered how panicked she’d been, how he’d driven her back to the island after their frantic, fruitless search to find his brother.

What had been odd, he thought as he pushed the elevator call button, was that she and he had been friends.

Good friends. All through grade school and into junior high, they had ridden bikes and snuck out to swim in the lake under the moon at night, swinging on a rope over the water, or playing Truth or Dare.

He’d taught her how to throw “like a boy,” had shown her how to skim smooth flat stones on the lake’s surface, and rolled them both their first cigarettes.

The Prince Albert shag tobacco, papers, and matches swiped from his uncle’s stash.

They’d gagged and coughed their lungs out, then sworn they would never take up the habit so enjoyed by their folks.

However, once they’d entered the hallowed halls of Almsville High School, things had changed. Harper was no longer a gangly tomboy but had, over the course of one summer, blossomed into a beautiful girl.

One who had caught his older brother’s eye.

And so their story had spun on its axis, landing on that rainy night Chase had disappeared.

Levi remembered her standing on the porch, her hair wet and curling, her eyes round with fear, her chin chattering.

Bedraggled.

Frantic.

Desperate.

And still beautiful.

Of course that had been years ago, before she’d disappeared from his life.

The elevator car landed, doors whispering open to allow a couple of nurses who were deep in conversation to step into the hallway. As soon as they passed, Levi slipped inside and, before he could second-guess himself, pushed the button for the third floor.

At the open door of Harper’s room, he hesitated and noted that the bed was empty.

Thinking she may have already been released, he took a step inside and found her seated in a chair near the window, a blanket over her legs, bandages on her face.

She looked like hell. Pale skin, huge shadows under her blue eyes where blood vessels were visible. Her lips were cracked, a bruise blooming over one eye. Her still-damp hair had been pulled back into a limp ponytail. She appeared small and fragile in the chair.

But he knew better.

She was staring outside, only to glance over her shoulder when she heard him.

“Levi?” she whispered, her voice raspy. She muttered something under her breath that sounded like, “Wow. Guess it’s old home week.

” Her lips twisted ruefully when she caught his perplexed expression. “Rand was here. You just missed him.”

“Rand?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t play dumb. You know why. He was here ostensibly to check on me, but really he had a lot of questions. You know, in his official capacity. Geez, he’s a cop now. A detective. Can you believe that? I thought he hated cops. I mean I think he hated that his dad was one.”

“That was a long time ago. We were kids. Getting into trouble. No one trusted the police.”

“I guess.”

“Time doesn’t stand still.”

“Doesn’t it?” She looked at him hard then. “Maybe not for you.”

What was this? “Not for anyone.” He didn’t add that years ago she had moved on pretty quickly. Jetting out of Almsville before she even graduated and marrying someone soon after in what he assumed was a whirlwind romance.

“If you say so.” She met his gaze. “So how’s your mom?” she asked, and her face softened with worry. “If Rand knew anything, he wouldn’t say.”

Levi walked to the end of the bed. “Not good.”

“I didn’t think so.” She turned in the chair to face him full on. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

“So, let me guess. You’re here because you want to know what happened last night, what I was doing on the lake, right?

” Before he could answer, she added, “It’s no big mystery, Levi.

I just got home, noticed a fire on a boat in the lake.

” She went on to tell him about calling for help, then swimming to the middle of the lake in hopes of helping his mother.

She told him how she’d begged Cynthia to abandon the boat, to save herself, to jump into the water.

“I kept yelling for her to jump, but she was frozen. The boat started sinking, and it was too late. Thank God the police showed up.” She rubbed her upper arms, as if she was still feeling the cold of the lake water.

“What was she doing out there?” he asked.

“As if I have any clue,” she said, almost to herself, then raised her eyes to his. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“I have no idea.” Who knew what went through the fragile mind of his mother? Certainly not he. “I guess I should thank you for saving her life.”

“Yes.” She gave a curt nod, her bedraggled ponytail bobbing with the jerk of her head. “You should.”

He hesitated half a beat and couldn’t help but think again that it might have been better for Cynthia Hunt to have passed last night, that her future was grim at best and unthinkably pain-riddled at worst. “Well, okay. Thanks,” he said tightly, the word tasting bitter on his tongue.

Yes, Harper had saved his mother, calling 9-1-1 when she spied Cynthia on the boat, but aside from his mother’s horrendous condition, there were other reasons he would never forgive her.

If Chase had never met her . . . Shit, if he himself had never met her, things would have turned out differently.

But they hadn’t.

He jammed his hands into his pockets. “So how about you . . . are you okay?”

She slid him a glance, then obviously lied. “I’m fine. A few cuts and bruises. Nothing serious. They just brought me in to check me out.” And then she paused, looked him up and down. “Do you still live in Almsville? I thought you went away to school and were in the service or something.”

“Or something.” He didn’t add that he’d been in Naval Intelligence and, once he’d gotten out of the service, worked for the FBI.

And now . . . a private citizen with an investigative firm in Portland.

“I’ve got a place across the river, in Sellwood.

An apartment. But I’d already decided to move back to the house on Fox Point because it was obvious Mom wouldn’t be back.

” He cleared his throat. “She’s been at Serenity Acres for a while now. ”

“Really?”

“Yeah. A couple of falls. Sprained ankle and broken wrist.” He rubbed the back of his neck and didn’t really know how much to confide. That his mother hadn’t always recognized him? That she’d left the stove on? That she wasn’t eating right and had started to wander? “It’s been better for her.”

“So how about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Married?”

“Was. It didn’t take.” He didn’t feel like explaining. Two agents with different careers, different personal goals. One who survived. One who didn’t. “So now I work in Sellwood. Private investigator. It’s a long story.”

“I’d listen.”

But as he looked at her, he felt something inside of him set off warning bells in his brain, a gut instinct he’d honed over the years. And what was the old saying? Once bitten, twice shy?

“Maybe some other time.”

“Kids?” she asked, and he shook his head. “What about you? You’re married, right?”

“Was.” She grinned, and he remembered how infectious her smile could be. “It didn’t take.”

“Kids?”

Her smile seemed to freeze. “Yes. One. A daughter. She’s—she’s in college now.”

“So you’re an empty nester.”

“Right.”

A heavy-set nurse in a crisp white uniform stepped into the room. Her hair was gray, her smile cheerful. “Paperwork,” she said, placing some forms on the side table before glancing at Levi through wire-rimmed glasses. Her practiced smile faltered. “It’s not visiting hours.”

“Just leaving,” Levi said, backing to the door. He lifted a hand toward Harper. “Good seeing you.”

“You, too,” she responded.

He figured they both were lying.