Page 46 of It Happened on the Lake

“I’m okay.” That was a bit of a stretch.

Harper’s headache had just about disappeared after two doses of Advil, and her whole body ached.

Not to mention she’d been up long before dawn and was anxious about the doll and someone breaking into the place.

And then there had been Joel’s call. And now, the missing gun.

“You’ve been through hell! Oh. My. God. I just can’t imagine the trauma of seeing Cynthia on the lake on fire!”

“I try not to think about it.” Which was true.

“Oh right, right. Sorry. It’s just that I’m concerned.”

“I think I said I’m okay.”

“I know, but . . .” Then she caught the look in Harper’s eye and whatever she saw there made her voice trail off.

“Rhonda DeAngelo—er, Simms caught up with me when I left the police station the other day,” Harper said. “In fact, she was waiting for me.”

“She’s a pain. Remember how mousy she was in high school?

” She didn’t wait for Harper to agree, just went on.

“Well, you saw her, she’s definitely not a mouse anymore!

More like a rat with fangs and fake boobs.

Man, has that girl had some work done! I mean, really?

How could she go from like a minus A to a double D? ”

“Ouch! Harsh!”

“Who cares? It’s just the truth.”

“She said you told her that I was back in town.”

“No, no . . . she already knew that, but yeah, I guess I confirmed it. She had heard you were back, I don’t know how, maybe she has a leak in the police department or something and so she was going to visit you in the hospital and saw you getting into my car.

” Beth shrugged. “No big deal, Harper. People are going to find out. But avoid her, if you can.”

“I will.”

Beth was already casting an appraising glance at the stairs and chandelier. “You know, if you want to sell this place, you really need to fix it up, make a few updates. Not too many, though, because the place has a certain charm.”

“Haunted house à la Transylvania?”

“No!” Beth laughed, ran a finger along the curved railing, and stared up at the high ceilings and the landing where the split staircase met.

“More like one of a kind, authentic turn-of-the-century Queen Anne with original fixtures and incredible views.” She raised an eyebrow as she walked toward the back of the house, high heels clicking on the marble floor.

“How many homes come with their own private island?”

“And their own unique, slightly macabre history?” Harper asked.

Beth reached the parlor and did a quick spin, surveying the room. “Well, we might not tell the buyers every thing, you know.”

“Hey, remember? I’m not sure I’m selling. I think I made that point when you drove me back from the hospital.”

“I thought you might be a little more clearheaded by now.”

“Not yet.” On one hand, Harper couldn’t get rid of this place fast enough; it held too many painful memories. But on the other hand, Dixon Island had once been her home and sanctuary.

“Well, I wouldn’t wait too long. Who knows where the market will go?

” Beth said. Then, as if sensing Harper’s reluctance, “Okay, so let’s just assume you are going to sell,” Beth went on, peering into Gram’s bedroom, then the butler’s pantry, and even walking through the kitchen.

Once back in the parlor she said, “First things first. If I were you, I’d deep-six the dolls.

God, they’re everywhere and creepy as hell.

” A pause, and then, “Oh, hello—seems like you’re already on my wave length.

” She’d caught sight of Maude’s legs dangling out of the trash can.

“See, that’s the idea. This is what you should do with all of them! ”

Before Harper could stop her, she plucked the doll from the can. “Dear God, this one is pretty awful, but an antique, I guess.” She turned the doll over. “What’s this?” she asked, eyeing the message under Maude’s pinafore.

“Not really sure.”

Beth was shaking her head. “Nothing good. What does ‘ICU’ mean? Like you’re going to end up in the ICU? Shit, is it a warning of some kind?”

“Don’t know.”

“Tell me this,” she pointed to the red letters, “is not blood.”

“Red marker, I think.”

Beth dropped the doll back into the trash, but her gaze was fastened to it, and she visibly flinched at the sound of Maude’s weak voice. “Who did that?”

“Again, don’t know.”

“Was it meant for you?”

“Maybe, but—”

“You don’t know.” Her eyes finally met Harper’s again. “And so you just found it and thought ‘oh well, I guess I’ll just put it out with the garbage?’”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Come on, Harper. Really? Instead of going to the police?” Her eyes rounded.

“And say what? That I found a doll with a weird message on it in my bathroom? Don’t you think that they have better things to do?”

“But—that!” Beth pointed at the doll. “It’s . . . way beyond creepy. Way beyond! Don’t say it doesn’t bother you, because it would freak the hell out of me.” She eyed the doll speculatively. “It was in your bathroom?” Beth bit her lip. “When did you find it?”

“Early this morning.”

“You didn’t see it before?”

“No. It wasn’t there.”

“Wait. You think someone put it there since you moved in?” she asked, obviously dumbfounded.

“I don’t think I would have missed it.” She thought about telling Beth about the missing gun, but Beth would only freak out more. Besides, with all she’d been drinking, Harper wasn’t really sure what she’d done with Gramps’s pistol.

“Jesus God, I’d move out immediately!” Beth said.

“I’m not going to let some stupid prank scare me away.” Harper was surprised at the conviction in her voice. But it was true.

“I would. The next time it might not just be a doll.” She eyed the nearby window. “How did he get in?”

“Over here.” Harper headed through the parlor, and Beth followed. As she did, she eyed the room with its antique furniture and dozens of dolls. “Oh my God. There are more of them. Like a doll army.”

“You remember that Gram collected them.”

“I don’t remember there were this many, and I sure don’t remember how creepy they all are.

I probably thought it was cool and, well, the point is just because your grandmother collected these old things doesn’t mean you have to.

Seriously, I’d get rid of every last one of them.

I mean, some might be valuable, I guess, but either dump them in the trash or take them to a dealer or something.

” She touched Harper on the arm. “I know you were close to your grandmother and all, but it’s time to clean this place out. ”

Harper had reached the window and showed Beth how she’d secured it.

“But how did whoever did this know about the window or that you’d be back . . . and you think they were in here while you were asleep?” Her brow furrowed. “That’s really scary.”

“And you’re not helping me feel any better about it. Look, just in case this isn’t the way whoever it was got in, I’ve called a locksmith. New keys for all the doors. He’s coming this afternoon.”

“But the windows?”

“The locksmith is going to go over each one. He’s a handyman, too. And if he finds any he can’t repair, he’s got the name of a window company.”

“Look, while I’m here, why don’t you show me around?” Beth suggested. “You know, in case you decide to sell. I don’t have time to do a full assessment. But we can do that later. You’ve got a basement, right?”

“Two floors below this one, but—”

“Okay, then let’s start there and work our way up.”

“It’s got to be a mess,” Harper argued. “I haven’t even gone down there and who knows what we’ll find.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can’t believe what I see in my business.” Beth rolled her eyes. “Rats. Squirrels. Mice. Wasps’ nests, rot and mold, even a dead raccoon once.” She flashed a smile. “You can’t scare me off that easily.”

“But the dolls freak you out.”

“And how! Especially weird-looking ones with cryptic messages,” she said. “Now, come on, let’s see this place. It’s been years!”

“Fine, but remember: I’m not sure I’m going to sell.”