by K S Logan
“Okay, Gracey,” said Dr. Solder, “just a couple more to go.” He tied off the last stitch and covered it with a bandage. Grace winced at the sting. “That’s it. Thank goodness nothing was broken. What a tumble, my dear. What happened?”
Grace looked over through tears at Morvin. She wanted to tell them Morvin had pushed her. Morvin was standing behind her father. She made a motion with her hands, imitating snapping Grace’s cat’s neck, which was Morvin’s favorite tactic to stop Grace from telling.
Grace had found a stray white cat a few months before. She fell in love with the little blue-eyed kitten instantly and pleaded to keep her. She named the cat Casper after her favorite cartoon about the friendly ghost. Morvin would often kick the cat out of the way or dangle it from the foyer stairs to torment little Grace. She even changed the words to the cartoon theme song. Grace would start crying every time Morvin sang it: ‘Casper, the bleeding cat. The bloodiest cat you know.’ Grace knew, all too well, what this motion of Morvin’s hands meant.
As Grace tried to decide what to say, Morvin started humming the cartoon theme song, as she pretended to be interested in a magazine.
“I just slipped and fell,” Grace said, the tears streaming down her dirty face. Dr. Solder handed Grace a red sucker and lifted her off the examination bed. Her body hurt all over.
“You be more careful, sweetheart,” he said. “She’ll be fine, Wallace,” he said to Grace’s father, “just see that she takes it easy for a few days and keep the wounds clean. We’ll remove the stitches in a few weeks.” He handed Morvin a sucker too. “Must have got a fright there, eh, Morvin? You’re not too old for suckers, are you?”
“Not at all, Dr. Solder, thank you. It was just horrible.” She gave Grace a grin and a wink as they headed out the office door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Cameron woke up alarmed by Piper’s barking. He looked around the room and saw Grace lying beside him. He laid back down and smiled, remembering the incredible night before.
They’d both fallen asleep in the sitting room. Cameron woke up in the middle of the night with a sore neck. He tried to rouse Grace, but she just moaned and rolled over, so he picked her up and carried her to his bed. As he laid her down, he heard her giggle.
“Cheeky wee bugger,” he said.
They’d made love again, slower this time, and then fallen back to sleep, sated and spent. He watched her while she slept. He barely knew this woman, yet he was always thinking about her. He was drawn to her and grew more fond of her by the minute.
The loss of his wife Meg had been brutal. They’d fought her cancer hard for three long years only to have it seat itself finally in her pancreas and then finish her off in three short months.
There is not a more hopeless feeling than watching your partner, your best friend, suffer in so much pain. Seeing them wither away until there is nothing left, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to help her, to save her is the worst pain.
After she passed, he poured himself into his writing. He didn’t see their friends anymore. He couldn’t look at their piteous expressions or listen to endless suggestions about how he needed to get on. He knew they meant well, but got tired of saying no to their ceaseless invitations to dinners and parties, so he cut himself off entirely. He had no desire for company, other than Piper, for so long...until now. Until Grace walked, or rather jogged, into his life. He didn’t even realize how lonely he was. Maybe he could build a life with someone again, something he believed impossible only days ago.
He moved a strand of dark curls off her face and touched her cheek. She was sleeping so soundly. He leaned over and softly kissed her forehead.
I won’t let anyone hurt you, my sweet Grace, he thought, as he began to drift back to sleep. In the living room, though, Piper started barking again. Fiercely this time, growling and snorting.
“What the hell’s up wi’ him?” Cameron muttered quietly as he got out of bed. He hopped into a pair of jeans, shoved on his slippers, and went to check it out.
“What’s going on, buddy?” he asked, as the dog continued barking at the front door. “Okay, okay. Let’s go see what’s got you all flustered.”
Cameron pulled on a t-shirt as he opened the door. Piper beelined it across the side yard, and then through the grove of fir trees that flanked the stables. In the pre-dawn light, the dark woods seemed to swallow the dog whole.
He felt the chill of the fall morning as he tried to catch up to Piper. Cameron worried about his dog after what that maniac Keaton had done to him.
On the other side of the trees, there was an old, abandoned, stable building that was roughly fifty yards south of the main cottage. Cameron had only been in it once since he began renting the place six or seven years ago. It had lain empty and unused except for the storage of some old potato crates and discarded furniture odds and ends.
“Piper! Piper!” Cameron called. Silly animal, probably after another bloody rabbit. Still, it was a strange way for him to act. He was usually a very placid dog. He followed the sound of Piper’s incessant barking through the woods to the old stone and wood stable building. Twigs and stones poked the bottom of his feet; slippers were not the best choice for this terrain.
He walked around to the back and turned sharply as Piper’s barking turned vicious. It sounded like he was in a fight. Now Cameron was running.
“Piper!” The wide, sliding barn door stood open. “Piper!” The dog must have gone inside. As soon as Cameron entered the building, everything went black as he was hit in the head from behind.
He detected the faint smell of smoke just before he went down.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
A sudden noise woke her, and she looked around the room, confused. A slow grin spread across Grace’s face as memories of the night before came back, and she remembered where she was. She felt rested after a much-needed, deep sleep. Must have been the feeling of safety, his strong arms around her all night. She glanced beside her. Where is he? She wrapped herself in a blanket and headed to the kitchen to find him.
“Cameron?” she called out. “Hmm, not here.” Maybe he took Piper out, she thought.
She went into the sitting room, and absentmindedly started biting her nails as she looked at the couch and thought about the events of the evening before. She hugged herself and swooned, the silly grin still on her face. Cameron is so awesome, he’s perfect. Oh my God, she thought, I think I’m in love with him.
Grace drew the sheers apart at the front window to see if she could see him in the yard. She noticed a handwritten note on the floor in front of the door.
Grace,
Please come to the house immediately. I’ve done some hard thinking since you left and I need to talk, I need to confess. You were absolutely right to be angry, I’m so sorry about everything, but there are things you don’t understand, things I can explain. Please come quickly. I’m afraid I may hurt myself. I need you.
Love, Morvin
Grace had never heard Morvin sound so needy and apologetic. She seemed so desperate in the letter. Grace had told Cameron she wouldn’t go back to the house by herself, but her sister might be ready to get the help she needed. Where was he anyway?
Grace put the blanket on the bed and quickly got dressed. Maybe she’d just talk to her through the door. Yes, that’d be fine, Grace told herself. I won’t go in the house. And besides, I’ve got the cell phone if anything happens.
She ran into the den and grabbed a pencil from Cameron’s desk. She turned Morvin’s note over and wrote one for Cameron on the back.
Grace was out of breath when she reached the front steps of Craigrook. On the way over, she’d begun to worry about what Morvin said about hurting herself. If her sister could truthfully explain all the events that had transpired, then maybe there was a way to help her. She couldn’t take another death in the family. Morvin was the only one left...well, besides Keaton, but he seemed to be beyond help, really.
She ran up the steps and found
the front door open. Why would that be? It’s freezing outside.
“Morvin?” Grace called out from the doorway, not entirely entering the house as she’d promised. “Morvin!” she yelled a little louder.
She heard a faint voice answer, but it sounded weak and far away. She entered the foyer, listening closer. “Morvin?”
Again the faint voice, only now it sounded like it was coming from upstairs. What if Morvin had done something drastic? What if she needed Grace’s immediate help?
Grace ascended the stairs warily. “Morvin? Is that you?”
“Yes,” said Morvin. “Hurry, come up here. Quickly, Grace.”
She still sounded weak, but it was definitely Morvin. “Where are you?” Grace asked.
“On the terrace. I need to see you.”
The terrace? She didn’t think anyone went up there anymore. It was a rooftop terrace that her family enjoyed long ago. Her parents often threw parties up there when Grace was young. But after Father disappeared, the parties stopped, and no one bothered with it. It became weathered, the floor soft in spots, dangerous to walk on.
The entrance to the terrace was on the uppermost floor of the house, to be entered by a skinny staircase from one of the attic rooms.
“Hurry, Grace. Hurry up!” said Morvin, distressed, her voice coming in clearer now as Grace climbed the four flights and reached the attic floor.
There were three attic rooms at Craigrook. Two were used mainly for storage, and the larger one was used as a gathering space. If it got too chilly on the terrace, guests could come inside and still enjoy drinks and music away from the often cool Scottish evenings.
The room hadn’t changed at all, much like the rest of the house. It was an eerie, dusty relic, and it gave Grace goosebumps. The record player still sat in the far corner, where the harmonic notes of Montovani played into the night. The room smelled of too much time passing without a stir to move the staleness. She remembered the busy sounds of glasses clinking and the laughter of the many guests. It was all still so vivid in her mind but now sadly gone forever.
She remembered being shooed away by her father, the smell of scotch on his breath, “Bed now Gracey, too late for little girls.” But Grace would linger on the stairs for a bit longer, enjoying the happy, festive sounds from beyond the door.
Grace walked to the thin, tall door that led to the staircase and, ultimately, to the roof. She carefully made her way up the fifteen, very steep, creaky, dark steps to the top. Grace pushed open the door.
How could have been so stupid, so gullible? Fear surged through her body as she found herself looking straight into the pointed edge of a large, gleaming butcher knife. At the other end was a sneering, grinning Morvin.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The old building was perfect kindling, and the fire was eating it up. Even the dampness of the season couldn’t slow down the steady burn of the aging structure.
Piper knew his master was in danger inside the smoke-filled building. He continuously barked at the large door and jumped at the side window, clearing over four feet with every spring. His nails scratched the glass, but he couldn’t gather enough force to break it.
Cameron lay on the sawdust floor inside the burning building. He could faintly hear barking coming from somewhere, but full consciousness remained under a thick film of fog.
He was back in the hospital with his wife, Meg. She was alive and improving. Their prayers had been answered, and they were smiling at each other, holding hands. Neither was speaking, just staring into each other’s eyes.
Someone came through the door. It was Grace. She looked radiant, dressed in a light floral frock, her brown curly hair bouncing about her shoulders. Cameron stood and went to her and kissed her passionately on the lips. They were laughing. Then he remembered Meg was lying in the hospital bed, watching them. He went to her side, she was crying, shaking her head in disbelief.
“How could you, Cameron? Why?” she kept asking, over and over.
But he had no explanation, he had nothing to say. He couldn’t understand it himself. As Meg cried, her face grew thinner by the second. Her skin turned gray and gaunt. Cameron held her hand and pleaded, “No!” He was losing her again, and he couldn’t stop it.
Meg’s face was skeletal now, and her hand was skin and bone in his. He watched in absolute horror as the skin on her face began to rot and fall away, bone revealed underneath. Her hair fell out onto the pillow, and her body melted and withered in front of his eyes.
He looked over at Grace. Terror struck him as he saw that she was engulfed in flames. She was still standing, but her entire form was on fire. He stood and went close to her, but the heat was unbearable, he couldn’t save her either. He fell to the ground as the whole hospital room began burning. He struggled to breathe through the smoke.
Cameron lay unconscious in the barn, stuck in his horrific nightmare. Flames continued to grow, smoke now billowing out of the walls and under the door. The fire had already spread halfway across the roof, eating away at the support beams above Cameron’s head. With a loud crack, one of them gave way, crashing down only a foot from his leg. The noise jolted him, bringing him somewhat to his senses. He opened his eyes and coughed as he looked around him and gradually realized his situation. He tried to stand and stumbled, as stabbing pain seized his head. Cameron staggered to the door and pushed, but it was blocked from the outside, where Piper barked frantically.
“Okay...okay boy. I hear you,” Cameron wheezed.
The smoke strangled him. His lungs scalded with each searing, toxic inhale. He looked up as another booming crack threatened; the whole roof could come down at any time.
Cameron saw a shovel lying on the barn floor. It had blood on one end...probably his. He wound up and smashed the shovel on the window, breaking the glass. The sudden burst of oxygen fed the flames, and the fire now fully engulfed the roof.
The window was too high for Cameron to reach without something to stand on. There were stacks of potato crates on the far wall, but they were already consumed by fire. He only needed something a half a foot high; he could pull himself up the rest of the way. Cameron shielded his face as the roof at the far end of the barn gave way, sending smoke and huge burning embers directly at him. He had to get out now.
Cameron grabbed the shovel and leaned it against the wall under the window, he stood on the footrest and tried to get a hold of the ledge. Sharp glass stabbed through his fingers. He lost his balance, and the shovel fell over. He landed hard on his back, and consciousness once more began to elude him. Cameron thought of Grace, the danger she was in. He had to get out of here so he could protect her, save her like he couldn’t do for Meg. He fought the haze that permeated his brain, but he was so exhausted, so fatigued.
He rolled over, coughing and gagging from the intense smoke and heat. Outside Piper continued barking and jumping at the window.
His dog needed him too. Piper would never give up on Cameron, so he forced himself to keep moving.
He leaned the shovel against the wall again, but this time he jabbed the point of it into the sawdust floor to brace it. Cameron put both feet on the footrest and tried to ignore the pain from the window glass and the burning torch in his lungs. He pulled himself up until he could get his elbow on the ledge. Glass pierced deep into his skin. He heaved with all his might and managed to get enough of his body out of the opening. Gravity did the rest, and Cameron fell out the window headfirst into a pile of glass shards that stabbed into his scalp and back.
Piper began licking his face, his paws bloody as well from repeatedly jumping on the broken glass. Cameron staggered to his feet, and the two ran away from the burning building, which was now completely engulfed.
They had almost reached the main cottage when the entire building collapsed behind them, huge flames lit up the whole property.
Cameron ran into the cottage. “Grace! Grace!” he yelled through fits of coughing, he ran from room to room. “Where is she, Piper?” He noticed a n
ote on the table. He couldn’t believe it. “She didn’t really go up there...alone?”
Panicked, he headed out the door for Craigrook House, praying he wasn’t too late.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“What are you doing, Morvin?” Grace said, shaking all over. “Put the knife down. We’ll get you the help you need. You don’t have to do this.”
“You’re the one that needs help, Grace. Back up. Move!” Morvin’s eyes darted everywhere, her pupils so big they almost covered the white, giving her a possessed look. Her lips were curled into a snarling grimace.
Grace glanced around her at the dilapidated terrace. It used to be such a magical place, all lit up with twinkle lights and adorned with gorgeous flowers from end to end. But now it was bare, dirty, and neglected. A strong wind blew dust, leaves, and debris into swirling mini-tornadoes. There were puddles of water where the roof was warped and soft from years of battering rain and heavy snowfall.
“What’s wrong with you? Why have you done these things to our family? To our own mother?” Grace continued to be led backward, the knife right in front of her nose. “Now you’re going to kill me too? Cameron, the man that’s staying in the Gittens’ cottage? He knows everything. You’re still going to jail even if I’m dead.”
Morvin closed her eyes tight and shook her head back and forth. “Shut up, shut up, shut up! You really are such a pain in my ass. You always have been.” The wind was really picking up now, whipping Morvin’s hair around her face. It was getting in her eyes and stuck in her twisted mouth, but she didn’t care. She seemed oblivious to it.
“Why did you do it, Morvin? How could you kill our mother?” Grace asked.
A maniacal grin spread across Morvin’s face. “I didn’t kill your mother, you stupid little tart. I killed your grandmother.” She threw her head back and laughed.
“What are you talking about?” This made no sense. Morvin had really lost it. She had Grace backed up against the terrace railing. Grace looked nervously down at the ground, at least six stories below.