Page 71 of It Happened on the Lake

Stop it! You’re spying. Intruding. Why do you care what other people do in the privacy of their own homes?

She started to back away from the telescope when out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of light go on in the Hunts’ boathouse. She focused on Levi, peering inside as he stood in the doorway, his body cast in relief from the weak shifting illumination of lamplight on the water.

As if he’d sensed her watching him, he turned sharply toward the lake, his gaze focusing on the island.

She bit her lip.

Told herself to put down the binoculars.

Felt her heart begin to pound as she shrank back behind the curtains.

Even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

Nor did she think he sensed her watching.

Yet she picked up the binoculars and stood near the curtains to stare at him through the glasses.

As she did, she felt a little rush and swallowed hard, just as he whirled quickly to face the house, as if he’d heard something.

And sure enough, the side gate swung open and Beth, carrying the backpack, slipped into the backyard. Beth held a finger to her lips as she hurried onto the dock.

Though the light from the boathouse was feeble, it was enhanced by the Sievers’ bright porch light.

Harper saw that Levi was surprised, maybe even apprehensive, but that could have been her imagination because Beth quickly pulled the bottle from her backpack and handed it to him, before digging into the side pocket of the backpack once more and retrieving two champagne flutes.

“What’re you doing?” Harper whispered, now engrossed in the scene unfolding across the lake.

For his part, Levi didn’t move.

Beth stood on her tiptoes and said something to him, then took his hand and led him to the slider.

Once they were inside the dark house, the glass door closed behind them, she could see nothing more, none of the interaction, be it innocent or not.

Were they popping the cork off the bottle of champagne?

Watching the frothy liquid bubble over the sides of the bottle?

Pouring two glasses? Celebrating? But toasting what?

His mother had died only days before in a horrible, mind-jarring death.

It seemed an unlikely time for any kind of celebration.

Fascinated, she stared through the lenses and told herself that the rapid beating of her heart had nothing to do with what she was trying to observe.

Were they in the kitchen, toasting each other?

Or . . . did she see movement in the bedroom on the upper floor—Cynthia and Tom’s room, the space where she’d thought Craig might have hidden the revolver?

Then she remembered Craig.

She swung her field glasses back to the Alexanders’ house where he was still on the bike, sweating now, his legs pumping fast, up and down, his face red, really going at it.

What the devil was going on over there?

Did he know that his wife had slipped out of the house?

Had she sneaked, or was her visit innocent?

Harper’s mind raced faster than the wheels of the stationary bicycle.

Beth had seemed to surprise Levi.

And yet he’d followed her all too willingly into the house.

She’d brought champagne.

Maybe Levi had agreed to sell his house and list it with Alexander Realty.

Was this a clandestine meeting? If not, why no lights in the house?

Were Levi and Beth lovers?

But even if they were involved with each other, would they take a chance while Craig was in the house and—

Craig’s workout was suddenly over. He stopped pedaling rapidly, the wheels of the bike continuing to spin of their own accord. He dashed across the room to pick up the receiver of the phone. Standing, stretching the coiled cord, he paced back and forth. Listening. Speaking. Obviously agitated.

Then he slammed the receiver down, stalked to a tall closet, grabbed a towel from within, and swiped it over his face and neck.

He reached for his discarded shirt, yanked it over his head, and started for the door leading to the hallway and staircase.

Harper caught her breath.

Beth and Levi were about to be found out.

Whatever was going on was about to come to a head.

She turned the field glasses to the Hunt cottage.

Still dark.

“Oh God.”

Back at the Alexander house, Craig had left the basement. He appeared in the kitchen, where he went to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, cracked it open, and took a long swallow. Then another.

“You’d better get home and fast,” Harper whispered, as if her friend could hear her.

Still nothing happening at the house next door, at least nothing she could see.

Back in the Alexanders’ kitchen, Craig took two more long pulls on the bottle, finishing his beer. He set the empty bottle on the counter and walked outside to the deck.

Harper watched as Craig, backlit by the kitchen lights, reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

A second later his face was visible as he lit up.

His features were hard and set. He drew deep, snapped the lighter shut, then turned toward the lake as their big, shaggy dog wandered through the open door and headed down the exterior stairs.

He wandered under the deck, pausing to sniff at the boxes and junk piled there until he finally made his way to the backyard.

Craig didn’t seem to notice Rambo and continued smoking, staring across the dark water, watching as a solitary boat, running lights glowing, cut across Lake Twilight.

And then Harper saw it.

A flicker of light on the main floor of the Hunts’ home, a shaft of lamplight from somewhere in the front of the house.

Chase’s bedroom? Levi’s? From her vantage point, Harper couldn’t tell.

But it worried her as she felt in her bones that Beth was on a clandestine mission, one she didn’t want her husband to be aware of.

And she was about to get caught.

Down near the dock Rambo started barking, low and loud enough that the deep sound rippled across the water. He was near a row of bushes separating the Alexanders’ property from the Hunts’, his head down, his body stiff, his tail straight up.

“No, no, no,” Harper whispered. “Shhh.” As if the big dog could hear her.

Craig flicked his cigarette into the yard below, peered down, presumably at his dog, then turned his attention on the Hunt property.

Oh. God.

Where was Beth?

This was going to be bad.

The slider door of the Hunt house opened, and Harper’s heart nearly stopped.

“Here we go,” she whispered, eyes glued to the unfolding scene.

Rambo was still making a racket when Levi appeared on the deck.

Harper swallowed hard. “Don’t come out,” she said, as if Beth could hear her. “Don’t!”

But Levi stepped out of the house alone. He closed the door behind him and the dog quieted, pacing near the line of shrubs.

Where the hell was Beth?

Harper trained the binoculars over the back of the Hunts’ house but saw no movement. Levi actually raised a hand at Craig, who nodded.

But no Beth.

This is no good , she thought, and then while Craig was facing the back of the Hunts’ place, possibly engaging with Levi, Harper noticed the front door of the Alexander house open enough to let the filmy street light in. Not thirty feet from where Craig was standing at the deck’s rail.

Harper felt every one of her nerves tightening.

Beth slipped through the door and closed it, in plain view of her husband. All he had to do was hear the softest noise, feel the slightest bit of air, and turn to catch her.

Harper’s teeth sunk into her lip. “Be careful.”

Beth scurried up the stairs just as Craig glanced into the house, as if he’d heard something. He started to go inside.

Upstairs, Beth didn’t turn on any lights. Harper was left to imagine her stripping out of her clothes, tossing on pajamas, and sliding quietly into bed to feign sleep.

Or was she reading too much into this?

Maybe it was nothing furtive at all.

Maybe it was all innocent, Beth either sympathizing with Levi or possibly welcoming him back to the neighborhood.

Hadn’t she mentioned that Levi might return to the lake house?

She could have spied his car and gone over to welcome him with champagne, kind of like she did with Harper a few days earlier—all “compliments of Alexander Realty.” So what if there weren’t chocolates or candles or a cheery basket involved?

This could have been a spur-of-the-moment thing.

But it didn’t seem so.

Craig had reached the stairs and was starting up. Quickly.

A cold feeling settled in her blood.

Her pulse had kicked up a notch.

Any second now . . .

And then Craig returned to the main floor, walked outside, and whistled sharply—Harper heard the quick blast. The dog. Harper had forgotten about him, but now he lifted his head, wagged his tail, and came bounding up the exterior steps to the deck.

Harper let out her breath. Didn’t realize she’d been holding it.

And as she watched Craig, dog in tow, walk to the staircase again, she thought of Craig hiding a gun in the Hunt house not more than a week ago.

And now this apparently clandestine meeting between Levi and Beth at the same house.

She couldn’t help but feel that something malevolent was going on, something she couldn’t put her finger on, but something bad. Something very bad.