Page 159 of It Happened on the Lake

“Beth is thinking I’m selling,” she clarified, and he let out a snort.

“That’s my wife, always looking for the next listing.” He eyed the furniture. “I remember this place. Looks the same. But, what, no cats?” he said as a joke, his eyes glinting.

“Only one and he’s missing. Black and white. Be on the lookout.”

“You got it.”

She led him up the stairs and told herself not to be nervous even though they were alone in the massive house. He was Beth’s husband, and his wife knew he was here.

Besides, he might not be the intruder.

Nonetheless, she was on edge as she opened the door to the tower room.

One step behind, he let out a low whistle as he surveyed the room. “Now this is something. I can see it from our place—the tower, I mean—but I had no idea of the view.” Like his wife before him, Craig peered through the eyepiece of the telescope and slowly viewed the far shore. “Man, you could see a flea on a dog with this thing,” he remarked. “This was your grandfather’s room, right? I heard about it from my old man. Never was up here myself,” he said, straightening and surveying the tufted couch in one corner. “I think Dad referred to it as ‘Old George’s study,’ then he would wink at me and say, ‘and what he is studying, son, is the opposite sex.’”

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh.” Craig checked the light switch, turning the overhead fixture on and off. “Dad said he’d sneak girls up here and show off this place, then, you know . . . score.”

Harper bristled. “Girls?”

“Well, they were girls to him. I think I saw one of them once. A brunette in real high heels, and he was sneaking her in.” Craig was nodding as he watched the light flicker off and on. “She wasn’t a girl to me. Probably in her early twenties.” Moving on from the switch, he added, “But definitely alotyounger than him.” He smiled then, almost a leer. “I say, more power to him. If the old guy could still get it up . . . well, sorry.” He held up his hands, palms out. “Nothing you want to hear.” Then he gestured to the room as a whole. “But this place is awesome, you know.”

She did know, and though he offered her a self-deprecating smile, she wasn’t put at ease. No. She was still on edge, reminded of the unnerving message scrawled on the dolls and the fact that she’d thought she’d heard someone in the house before discovering Maude in the bathroom. Not only had she witnessed Craig skulking around at night, seemingly behind his wife’s back, but also he lived just across the lake and had access to the island. Having lived on this property, he knew this place like the back of his hand. But what would be his game? She had no answer but couldn’t help being nervous. Edgy.

Just ask him! See his reaction. Why the hell not?

But she waited, hoping he would trip himself up.

She held her tongue as they did a quick tour of the rest of the property, including the boathouse and basement. All Craig could mutter was, “A helluva lot of work,” as they made their way to the garage, where he stopped short the second Harper opened the doors.

“Holy shit, would you look at that?” Eyeing Gramps’s Corvette, he shook his head. “Jesus. The ’59! Still here.” Walking around the car, he added, “Frost blue. White accents. Blue interior. All fuc—frickin’ original. Wow.” Awestruck, he opened the driver’s door and slid inside. “I can’t believe you still have this.” Hands on the blue steering wheel, he checked out the gauges in the dash, then touched the gear shift. “And in perfect condition! I heard it was wrecked, nearly totaled.”

“Gram had it restored.”

“But the old man—George—your grandpa, he died in the crash. Right?” he asked, his big hands almost caressing the steering wheel.

“Uh-huh,” she said, recalling that hot summer night when she’d learned her grandfather had been killed in the single-car crash. “But Gram wanted to preserve the car. She figured it would become a classic.”

“And man, oh man, was she right!” He slapped the steering wheel and gave a long whistle. “Tell me this baby is for sale.”

“I’m not sure yet,” she admitted.

“God, Beth will probably want to sell it with the house, kind of a bonus for the right buyer, but forget that. If you’re going to sell it, let me know first, okay?”

“Yeah, sure, I guess,” she agreed, though it could well be a lie.

“Don’t let her talk you out of it. I’ll make sure Beth knows the deal.” He was nodding to himself. “I’ll tell her I want it. God, can you imagine cruising around the lake with the top down? Hell yeah, that would be so awesome.” Stretching out of the low-slung car, he took stock of Gram’s Cadillac with a practiced eye, then walked to the motorcycle. “This was Evan’s,” he said, lost in thought. “I used to watch him ride it.” He threw a leg over the Honda and placed his hands on the grips, then, like a ten-year-old boy, leaned low and moved his heel as if he was actually shifting through the gears. “He even gave me a ride once, down to the far end of the bridge and back, but never let me drive it.” He swung off and rubbed his chin as he stared at the bike. “You know, I’ll buy this, too. Max will be getting his license in a couple of years, so yeah,” he was thinking aloud. “But as for the Caddy, I’ll have to think about it.”

“I’ll think about it, too,” she said, irritated that he just assumed he could buy the vehicles.

But why not? What’re you going to do with them? Store them here, so they can continue gathering dust?

“While you’re thinking about it, didn’t your grandpa have a gun collection?”

Bingo!Harper couldn’t believe her good luck, that she didn’t have to initiate the conversation. “I think so. But, you know, I wasn’t allowed to be around any firearms. With Evan, it was a different story. He was a boy and he hunted and . . .” She let her voice trail off.

“Right, right.” He pulled a face. “Sore subject, I know, but if you want to get rid of any of the guns? I’m into them.” His eyebrows lifted, and he glanced around the garage. “I thought there used to be a gun closet in here. I remember that sometimes it was my dad’s job to clean the rifles and shotguns.”