Page 41 of It Happened on the Lake

He took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom.

His mother’s broken sobs were louder out here in the hallway, and he started for the staircase.

There was a chance he could offer her some comfort, say something to smooth things over, but no words came.

He didn’t know what to say. Maybe it was best to let things settle. Sleep on it.

He went into his bedroom. But behind the closed door, he could hear the fight still raging downstairs, his heat vent a speaker.

He stripped and fell into bed.

“You’ll never amount to anything!” his father accused.

Smack!

The sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Levi cringed.

“It’s my life!” Chase insisted again, his voice breaking.

Crash!

Levi reached between his mattress and box spring to withdraw a flask he kept hidden there.

He opened it quickly and took several swallows of the whiskey he’d swiped from the bar downstairs.

It burned his throat on its way to his stomach, but he hoped it would calm him, quiet his jangled nerves, and mute the sounds emanating from the basement.

It didn’t.

Even the throbbing over his eye and the alcohol seeping into his bloodstream couldn’t drown out the voices and sick sounds of violence.

“I’m not joining up!”

Thud.

A body crashing against something hard.

Tom said, “Try it, boy.”

Oh God. Levi imagined Chase ready to pounce—maybe with a weapon, and Dad with all his police training, standing across the room, bloodied and battered and waving his fingers in a “come-on” motion, waiting for Chase to charge blindly, like an enraged bull.

It happened.

As Levi squeezed his eyes shut, he heard Chase say, “I hate you!”

Then, running footsteps.

Another thunderous crash.

A wail from his mother’s bedroom.

Then, the most damning words from his father. “You’re not my son any longer, Chase. From this day forward, you’re dead to me.”

Levi closed his eyes, took another sip. For once, Chase was in trouble, when Levi was usually the one who didn’t measure up.

An evil little part of him liked the thought of shining, perfect Chase getting what was due him because Levi, more than anyone, knew what his brother was really like—at his center.

But he felt guilty immediately and rolled over, pulling the covers over his head.

No good.

Levi still heard the soul-jarring cursing. Groaning. Fists smashing. Furniture crashing. Wood splintering. Walls shaking. His head felt as if it might explode. He couldn’t stand listening to the fight, feeling the rage simmering through the house. Not one second longer.

He had to get out.

Leave.

Now!

He flung himself off his bed. In the dark he found his clothes on the floor, threw them on, and grabbed his jacket from the back of his desk chair. Mom was still upstairs weeping, Dad and Chase going at it in the basement, so he slipped out the front door and across the wide porch.

As he started jogging, faster and faster, getting away, he heard Sievers’s dog bark. A cold breeze slapped his face, and it felt good. Running forced his thoughts away from his brother and father.

He kept up his pace.

Toward town.

Past the deserted swim park.

Around the lake.

He hugged the side of the road, dodging the few headlights that passed. He didn’t have a plan, but he just kept moving around the lakeshore, observing the dark water, looking up at the stars when the clouds thinned.

As he approached Almsville, he skirted the main streets, avoiding storefronts with their security lights and circumventing the blue pools of illumination cast by street lamps.

He took back alleys and quiet, familiar lanes, spying a scraggly cat traipsing along a fence line and later a possum scuttling through the hedge of a manicured lawn.

As it was still an hour or so before midnight, windows glowed in the dark, casting patches of light on the lawns, playing upon fountains, trees, and even a bicycle left on a front porch.

The houses appeared serene, as if each and every one was home to a perfect, happy family.

But who knew what went on behind closed doors?

He wondered if anyone suspected that his own house was often one of chaos, that even when Mom decorated it with Christmas lights or Easter baskets, there was darkness behind the door with its welcome mat.

Everyone has their troubles.

He’d heard that somewhere, and the thought certainly came home to roost tonight.

He kept moving. Step after step, dashing around the lake.

Though he hadn’t had a destination in mind, he ended up at the road leading to Dixon Island.

Probably his subconscious leading him here, he thought as he made his way down the lane to stand at the closed gate flanked by its cool gargoyles.

He stared through the bars and across the bridge toward the old mansion where, these days, Harper was living, he knew, most of the time.

He’d like to talk to her.

That was the problem.

Always.

He’d had a crush on her for all of his life. It was bad enough when you fantasized about a friend’s girlfriend, but what did it say about him that he ached for his brother’s chick? How sick was that?

He closed his eyes, his pulse accelerated as he remembered . . .

Oh God, he couldn’t go there!

Gripping the rails, he stared through the gate to the big house, barely visible though the tower lights were on.

He thought of Harper inside.

Pining for Chase.

His insides turned cold.

He expected that Chase, after the fight with their dad, would seek Harper out. He’d probably take the boat out and “go dark” without running lights, skimming across the water, as he had in the past. A reckless, dangerous ride.

Levi’s gut twisted a bit at the thought, and his hands clenched over the bars of the gate.

He told himself he was being stupid, that Harper was off-limits, but they’d been in the same class in school, known each other since kindergarten.

Chase hadn’t paid any attention to her until he was a senior and she a sophomore in high school, when she’d blossomed from a long-legged coltish kid into a beauty.

They’d started dating the end of her sophomore year, and even though they’d had their share of breakups, they were together, she willing to do anything for him, it seemed.

But maybe not for long.

Chase had confided to Levi that he’d been seeing other girls at college and he’d spent more than a little time at the house at the end of the street, a place where cars came and went at all hours. A spot where drugs and booze were plentiful and sexy girls hung out.

Harper deserved better.

If she were Levi’s girl, he would do better by her.

But she was out of reach.

Turning away from the gate, he shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking. Mixed with his conflicted feelings about Harper was the memory of the horrid fight, still replaying in his mind. Dad had been madder than ever and Chase had pushed it, maybe still was.

He walked several miles on Northway before crossing the west-end bridge and making his way along the road that wound along the hillside, where the houses were built on pilings that stretched out over the chasm and offered expansive views of the water far below.

He caught glimpses of the lake through the trees and met a handful of cars on the high slope, their headlights bright and stark in the night, their taillights winking red.

The rain started again just as he reached the summit.

From there it was only a hundred yards or so to the trail that wound downward through the trees to the end of his street.

It was darker in the woods. He stumbled a couple of times over dirt clods and fallen branches.

Cussing himself for not bringing a flashlight, he had to remember how angry he’d been when he left.

Fired by a little booze and a lot of testosterone, without a plan, he’d just started walking.

Now, though, the alcohol had worn off and his fury had subsided by leaps and bounds.

He was still upset, but he could handle his emotions now.

He picked his way down the familiar path, guided by the dim street lamp near the Hunts’ house.

As he was about to step out of the woods, he heard the slap of footsteps.

He froze. From the shadows he saw a tall man running down the street as if Satan himself was chasing him.

As the runner reached the rental house at the end of the road, he cut quickly into the yard.

Not breaking stride, he ducked around the corner to the back near the dock and out of sight.

Levi had just taken a step forward when the guy reappeared, closer, on the near side of the cabin.

Levi watched as the guy raced up the outside stairs.

At the doorway he paused and gave a quick knock.

A door cut into the roof opened. The guy’s hood fell back, and Levi caught a glimpse of pale blond hair as he greeted whoever was inside, then as the door opened wider, dim light from inside exposed his face—a man in his twenties that Levi didn’t recognize.

But the guy greeting him? On the inside?

Levi had seen him before—a guy with long hair, thick sideburns, and John Lennon glasses.

His teeth were a little crooked, one front tooth overlapping the other.

Levi had seen him sometimes in a green Corvair with a bad muffler.

Sometimes in a rattling VW van with a peace sign painted on it.

Didn’t matter which vehicle. Every time he drove down the street, Old Man Sievers’s dog would go ape-shit.

Now he had a pissed-off look on his face. He let the blond guy inside and shut the door.

Levi figured there was probably a drug deal going down.

He’d heard that there was a guy who was dealing out of the place.

He studied the cabin for a minute. Behind the window shades, lights flickered.

The porch light was glowing and casting light over the cars and vans that littered the driveway and street, all parked haphazardly, the Corvair among the rest.