Page 221 of It Happened on the Lake

“Then you’re probably a fan club of one.”

“Really, no one likes them?” Dawn said. “Weird.”

Harper wondered if that was a compliment, like bad is good and sick is cool and maybe weird meant out of sight or whatever. But calling something weird seemed odd coming from a girl who loved anything that was out of step with the norm. These days Dawn dressed in layered, uneven black skirts that sparkled and wore gloves without fingers, heavy boots, and umpteen necklaces and crosses, all at once.

There had been a time when she was in grade school when Dawn had worn T-shirts and hoodies, sweat pants and shorts. Like her mother before her, Dawn had been a tomboy. Naturally athletic, she had climbed any tree she saw, scrambling up to the highest branches. She’d ridden her skateboard all over Santa Rosa and had taken horseback riding lessons while earning a black belt in karate, one of the few girls in her class.

Then she’d turned fifteen.

Dawn had discovered boys, alternative music, punk culture, and the whole Goth scene as a sophomore in high school. She’d become sullen and withdrawn, found new friends, and tried to ignore her parents. Somehow, though, thank God, she’d managed to keep her grades up.

By the time she’d entered college, Dawn had dropped some of the moody oppressed-teen act. But even if now she was more borderline alternative, she still embraced the Gothic fashion sense as evidenced in today’s all black outfit of torn tights, short lacy dress, and big hair. Today her lips were pale. She wasn’t wearing the black lipstick that had been part of her makeup her senior year and aside from a line of silver studs crawling up one ear, she hadn’t had any more body parts pierced. At least none that were visible.

“Are you okay?” Dawn asked, walking closer and poking an ebony-lacquered nail at her mother’s chin. “This is where you had stitches, right?” She eyed the red line where the skin had been pulled together and the little dots on either side where the stitches had been pulled through. “Wow. Kinda looks like a caterpillar.”

“It’s fine. Seriously. I’m getting there.”

“Will you have a scar?”

“God, I hope not.”

Dawn actually seemed concerned. “What does the doctor say?”

“That I’m fine,” she snapped, then hearing the harsh tone of her voice added, “Or that I will be. Maybe just a little worse for wear. It’ll take a little time.”

“Uh-huh.” Dawn didn’t seem convinced, but she let it slide.

Harper didn’t want to further this particular discussion. “Come on,” she suggested, “I’ll show you around.”

“Okay.” Dawn dropped her purse again. “Let’s go outside first! I want to see all around the island.”

“All right. We’ll start out back.”

Harper walked Dawn through the overgrown trails where she’d played tag or war as a kid. They hiked beneath the fir trees with their sweeping, needled branches while fir cones littered the muddy paths. “I like it,” Dawn said almost wistfully as she spied a great blue heron skimming the lake’s surface, wingspan wide, his reflection visible in the water.

They took the steps to the dock and cavernous boathouse, where Dawn surveyed the rotting timbers with their bat droppings and the old, rotting boat creaked in its ancient straps. “Totally creepy,” Dawn whispered above the echoing sound of the lapping water. “Iloveit!” Her enthusiasm didn’t wane as they entered the tunnel and climbed the stairs to the terrace and the tram’s garage.

Intrigued, Dawn wanted to test out the car. “Come on, Mom,” she begged. “Show me how it works.”

“Later,” Harper said, “I’m not sure it would even start.”

“Well, we could try. Isn’t that what you always said, ‘you’ll never know until you try’?”

“But not today. If we were lucky enough to get it started, it’s still not safe.”

Even under its shelter, the car had collected dirt, grime, and fir needles. Who knew what condition the track was in? All of which didn’t contribute as much to her aversion as the memory of Evan sprawled in the car. Even now, in her mind’s eye, she witnessed him lying in the car, eyes wide, hair fanned around his head, blood dripping in red rivulets from the seat to the floor of the car.

Forcing the graphic image from her mind, she stepped back from the car’s interior. “I thought you wanted to see the rest of the house.”

“I do. For sure.” Dawn pointed upward to the tower rising above the roofline. “Let’s start up there. We can work our way down.”

“Okay.”

But as they reached the terrace, Dawn glanced around and asked, “Where’s Jinx?”

Harper’s heart nose-dived. She thought about admitting the truth but settled on, “He’s around.”

Dawn frowned and produced a rubber band from a pocket. “He could get lost here,” she said, pulling her wild mane into a loose bun. “I mean, anyone could. Not just a cat.”