Page 139 of It Happened on the Lake

“Unlivable. Probably needs to be torn down.”

“Then . . . then a hotel or rent a place. The house next to us is empty right now, and I have the Musgraves’ phone number. We’d be right next door. Neighbors. Or wait a sec! What about spending some time with Craig and me? We’ve got an extra room!”

“Thanks, but it’s really not so bad,” Harper lied, thinking about how tightly she’d clutched the scissors as she lay in the sleeping bag listening to the huge timbers creak.

“Well, as they say, it’s your funeral. Oh God, look at the time!” Beth said as she glanced at her watch, then the sky. “Damn it all, my hands were full, and I left my umbrella in the car. Well, too bad. I’vereallygot to run.”

And she did, dashing through the rain and slipping into her car. As she slid into her BMW, she turned on the ignition and rolled down the window. “You know, while you’re at the fixing-up and cleaning-out stage, you should really consider getting rid of those.” She pointed toward the gargoyles at the far end of the bridge. “You can put up planters on the pillars filled with flowers or large carriage lights, or anything a lot more welcoming.”

“I’ll think about it,” Harper called. “And hey, be careful. I’ve still got a missing cat I don’t want you to run over.”

“As if!” With a wave, she called, “Kisses!” And then she was off in her BMW, hitting the gas to race across the bridge.

Harper watched as the sports car streaked past the gate where the large, hulking gargoyles stood watch.

If she decided to sell, maybe Harper would get rid of them.

Because, regardless of what her grandmother had confided ages ago, they were doing a piss-poor job of guarding the island.

Chapter 34

Levi knew there were no cameras in the parking lot of Serenity Acres. He’d asked when he’d learned his mother had gotten out of the facility and he wanted to know why. But still, he couldn’t stay in the lot too long, or someone would notice. He stuffed his mother’s note and bank statement into the envelope, then placed it in his glove box and withdrew a small flashlight and his set of picks, including his favorite slim-jim.

Would he be able to unlock the old VW bus?

He wasn’t sure, but he was going to give it a try. According to Sievers, the Volkswagen had been sold to him by Tristan aka “Trick” Vargas. Levi remembered Trick as being slick and cocky, with a toothy smile that seemed to indicate he was certain he held one over on you. “Arrogant son of a bitch.” And he’d been dealing. All the while neither his dad nor Gerald Watkins seemed to care. Unlike each man. Both stand-up cops. Or so he’d thought.

So this was Levi’s opportunity, possibly his only opportunity, to search the van in the hopes that Vargas, in his quick escape away from the lake, might have left something in the van.

But twenty years?

What were the chances?

Not good. Nonetheless, opportunity only knocks once. Right? Wasn’t that the saying? He locked his own car and dashed through the rain to the spot where the van was parked. It was a sorry-looking vehicle, faded and rusted, the peace sign that had been so vibrant two decades earlier now appearing dull, as forgotten as the movement it so proudly once touted.

He knew Sievers, who’d been the king of security on Fox Point back in the day, would have locked the vehicle, and he was right, but the old locks gave way easily. Without much effort he was in the passenger area of the van, now devoid of any seats, simply a cargo hold.

He caught sight of a car approaching, headlights cutting through the gloom, and he waited for the Chrysler K Car to pass. He watched as a young woman parked, then opened the back side door and put a baby in one of those collapsible umbrella strollers. She strapped a child of about two into it before pushing the stroller at a jog into the facility.

Once he was inside, he turned on his flashlight and started searching. It was a futile job. Though the interior was stark, it was dirty, with bits of trash, foil gum wrappers and a couple old newspapers, a pair of boots, and not much else. He shone his light under the dash, around the stick shift and upright steering wheel.

Nothing. Except wads of chewed gum left jammed on the doors and dash.

Probably there was never anything here. And he had no idea what, if anything, he was looking for. Maybe nothing. Tristan Vargas could have been a two-bit drug dealer who was long gone, maybe walking the straight and narrow right now, an insurance salesman with two kids living somewhere in the suburbs of Duluth, Minnesota, or anywhere else.

He shone a light once more under the front seats. Nothing on the floor, but he did catch sight of a bit of paper tucked onto the seat itself, as if it had been pushed there. Probably nothing. And yet . . . He stretched, barely able to reach it and wiggle it out while he held the flashlight with his free hand. The paper was stuck, as if it had been wedged there for years and might have been adhered to an ancient wad of gum. Slowly, he was extracting it, hoping not to tear it, telling himself it was probably useless and sweating with the effort.

Somewhere off in the distance, he thought he heard the yip of a small dog, but he kept working, easing the paper until suddenly it came free, tearing a bit beneath the gum.

Just as the sliding door to the van opened and there, hunched over his walker, backlit by tall security lamps, his hair plastered by the rain, was Edward Sievers.

“You little shit! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, Jake pulling at his leash and, sensing his owner’s disapproval, growling menacingly.

“I thought Mom might have left something in here,” Levi lied.

“Under my goddamned driver’s seat?” he huffed. “I don’t think so. Get out of there! Jesus Christ, I thought I was doin’ you a favor!” Some of his bluster was disappearing. The dog, hackles raised, was still growling, and when Sievers looked down to reprimand him, “Stop, Jake, it’s okay,” Levi rolled over, tucked the paper into his pocket, and slid out of the van.

By now the dog had calmed and even Sievers appeared less irritated. “If you wanted to search the damned car, all you had to do was ask.”