Page 151 of It Happened on the Lake

No witness to anything untoward.

Ergo, he remembered the conclusion based on the autopsy report: accidental death by drowning.

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.

Like it or not, he’d look into it again.

As he would Olivia Dixon’s death and Chase Hunt’s disappearance, all part of a twenty-year-old mystery. He didn’t expect there to be anything unusual about Harper’s grandmother’s death; the woman was old, with health issues, and as he looked over the yellowed paperwork, he found that the department had come to the same conclusion.

Yes, the granddaughter had been negligent with her medication by allowing the older woman to drink, but Harper had not been found culpable.

No charges had been leveled.

He read the names of the officers who had filed the report: Detective Thomas Hunt and Detective Gerald Watkins. He recognized each man’s signature, though the ink had faded over time.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he eyed the report. He would never forget seeing a dead person emerge from the lake.

Even now, thinking about it, he felt his stomach twitch.

So he turned his mind away from that disturbing image.

He glanced at the clock. Almost eight in the morning, and the station was coming to life. Over the rumble of the furnace and chunk of some printer disgorging papers, the sound of ringing phones, fax machines, and footsteps were audible. Several conversations were going at once with occasional bursts of laughter.

Rand kicked out his desk chair, then headed for the break room for a cup of coffee before they convened the short morning meeting run by Sergeant Katz, who was fortyish, on the uptight side, and a stickler for detail.

Several cops had gathered, some shrugging out of jackets, others filling cups. Gunderson looked over Brady’s shoulder as she was already working on the crossword puzzle at one of the tables. “You could give me some space,” she said, scowling up at her partner, “or make yourself useful and grab me a fresh cup.”

“I got it,” Rand said as he was already at the coffeemaker. He poured two cups from the glass carafe and was carrying them to the table when he saw Chelle arriving. After coming through the back door, she unbuttoned her jean jacket and hung it in her locker, one of the few visible from the break room. She found her way to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup.

Of course Gunderson was watching her.

“Put your eyeballs back in their sockets, Gunn,” Eleanor advised, glancing up from her puzzle and accepting the steaming cup from Rand. “Thanks.” She blew across the rim and took a sip. “What’s a twelve-letter word for wife?” she asked loudly. “Maybe more than one word. Second letter is an a.”

Gunderson smiled at Chelle and raised his eyebrows. “How about ball and chain?”

“Just stop,” Brady said. But Gunderson didn’t.

Chelle didn’t bat an eye, just said, “Don’t know, but maybe another name for husband is dick and wad.”

“Ouch,” Eleanor said as Chelle breezed out of the room, Gunderson still watching. “That’s gotta burn.”

“She’s a sassy one,” he said, his eyes glinting as he nodded at Rand. “Lucky you. I like my women with a little spark.”

“You’d better like being kicked to the curb,” his partner said, “because women are tired of putting up with your kind of crap. There’s a thing called sexual harassment these days, you know.”

He shrugged. “I was just flirting. She likes it.”

“Does she?” his partner asked. “Don’t think so. And she’s not the kind to put up with your shit, so knock it off.”

Rand took it all in but pointed to the paper. “Married woman. I think that’s the answer to the wife clue.”

“By God, you’re right,” she said and filled in the letters while Rand said to Gunderson, “Listen to Eleanor. Times are changing. You can’t get away with that kind of crap.”

“Oh, so now you’re the authority on what was it called—sexual harassment? Yeah, right.” He snorted, then drained his cup. “It’s all bullshit if you ask me.”

“Just warning you, man,” Rand said, then made his way back to the office.

As he expected, Chelle was at her desk and she was seething, her coffee ignored and cooling on the corner of her desk.