by Karen Harper
“I swear, this place always give me the creeps,” Tess told Kate and Char as she drove them toward the old asylum gates. When Kate had heard where they were going, she’d insisted on coming, too. “And not just because it’s supposed to be haunted,” Tess insisted. “Every time I see Brice Monson, I feel I’m looking at an alien, a creature from beyond.”
“Bright Star’s a mind manipulator of the nth degree,” their practical older sister, Kate, put in with a roll of her hazel eyes.
Tess slowed as they passed through the rusted, open iron gates and fence that surrounded the long-deserted Falls County Mental Hospital grounds. The hospital had started life in the 1880s as the Cold Creek Lunatic Asylum. They passed the modern playground area with its swings, slide and jungle gym. The county-owned park was deserted, though with the wind the swings still squeaked back and forth as if someone sat in them. The few dry leaves on the trees seemed to shudder, and little eddies of dead ones on the ground swirled and danced.
The hospital had once been a busy, self-sustaining establishment. Two five-story towers with cupolas stood sentinel over a large main red brick building, a relic from post–Civil War times. Gabe had said the big central structure once had male and female wards and separate dining rooms with patient rooms stacked above, under the copper roof. It was all derelict now. Vandals and ghost hunters broke in at times, especially around Halloween as they had just a few weeks ago.
Empty outbuildings in various stages of decay dotted the acreage, cottages for overflow patients, a small barn and greenhouses that had once helped to feed the patients and staff, even a carriage shop. Two graveyards, one with only numbers on the small tombstones were on the site. Flush with cash from selling the old cult compound site for fracking, Bright Star had hired workers to renovate two of the larger outbuildings and quickly build two wings with more expansion to come.
“They used to do lobotomies here,” Kate told them, shaking her head. “You know, primitive brain surgery that turned anxious, paranoid patients into zombies more or less. I swear, Bright Star’s doing a version of that himself the way everybody falls in line with his weird ideas. Grace and Lee used to have minds of their own, but no more.”
Kate was always the bright one, the scholar, and she’d been like a second mother to Char and Tess when their father had left and their mother had gone to work to support them in Jackson, Michigan. Through scholarships, grants and hard work, she’d earned her doctorate in archaeology, lived abroad and led archaeological digs—and then to Tess’s and Char’s amazement, had ended up back in little Podunk, Cold Creek, Ohio. And not just because of the ancient Adena Indian mounds here, but because of a man, so let that be a warning. But even here in Cold Creek, if there was any trivia or clue to be had, any theory to be probed, Kate was the one to ask, so maybe later Char would run past her the mystery of who tried to kill Matt on the mountain yesterday.
“Well, Bright Star will have trouble refusing to let Gracie and Lee see the three of us,” Tess declared, but her voice shook. “Safety in numbers! If only Lee and Grace would stand up to him, I wonder how far he’d go to keep them here. You’re right, Kate. It’s like he has some hypnotic hold on them—all of them.”
“If their children are being abused in any way, I’d like to get a court order against them,” Char said. “He can only hide behind freedom of religion so long if he’s hurting those kids.”
“I’m sure Gracie—and Lee—would never allow that,” Tess insisted.
They got out of the car at the closed gate to the new compound, one almost as ornate as the old Victorian one. The fracking must mean money coming out Bright Star’s ears, Char thought. This gate had a star bursting with beams formed from the metalwork.
“Bright Star likes to hit us idiots over the head with symbolism,” Kate muttered. “Such humility!”
As usual, a guard stood sentinel at his post. Kate did the talking, asking to see their cousins Lee and Grace Lockwood and their children. The guard, a tall man, apparently unarmed but with a walkie-talkie, moved a few yards away and spoke to someone in it.
“So far, so good,” Char whispered. “One for all and all for one.”
“You’ve been reading The Three Musketeers?” Kate whispered. “But don’t bet on ‘so far so good.’ Tess and I have both tangled with the guy.”
To Char’s relief, the man opened the gate and waved them in. Following him, they went up the new-looking concrete walk toward the main building with its two curved additions shaped like—like embracing arms? Angel wings?
“Gabe told me this was once a cottage for tubercular patients that they used to segregate, but it’s been really redone,” Tess whispered.
Another man met them at the door, and the guard went back toward his post. This man seemed his clone in their garb, kind of Quaker or Amish—definitely pioneer-looking. No Bright Star so far, but that could be a good sign. The man directed them down the center hall to a small, sparsely furnished room.
Char remembered their first cousin Lee from their childhood—fun, lively, a little shy maybe and handy with all kinds of tools. And Grace—Gracie, Tess still called her—had once been Tess’s best friend. They’d all missed Lee and Grace and their two darling kids, Kelsey, age four, and Ethan, two. Char had only glimpsed the children once on a weekend market day since she’d been back. She’d never grasped how Lee and Grace had been caught up in this weird web.
The room where they waited had no windows and was plainly furnished with four straight-backed chairs and a bench. The two torchère lamps reminded Char of the uptilted, soft lights in funeral homes. On the walls were framed quotes from the Bible in beautifully scripted writing. The largest one read:
You do well to heed a light that shines in a dark place until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.
“Maybe that’s where he took his nickname from,” Char whispered, pointing.
“And check out the other Bible quotes framed here,” Kate said. “They’re about hunting people down. I swear, that’s the way he targets people to get them in here, with initial goodwill, then total mind control, so we’d better—”
She stopped in midthought as the hall door opened and Lee and Grace entered. Char was pleased their escort closed the door behind them so the family could have some privacy, but she was disappointed they didn’t have the children with them.
Tears prickled behind Char’s eyelids. As they exchanged greetings and hugs, Tess started crying. When Char hugged Grace, she realized the sort of cloak she wore over her dress in this chilly place could not hide the fact that she was pregnant—very pregnant. She’d sure seen a lot of that out West under loose skirts and capes.
“Oh, Grace. Another baby!” Char cried. “Congratulations!”
Kate and Tess joined in, congratulating Lee, too, who didn’t seem a bit pleased. And Grace was acting so strangely that Char wondered if she was going to faint. She kept darting her eyes toward the scripted, framed star quote on the wall.
“What?” Tess asked. “Are you all right? Dizzy? Want to sit?”
Lee stood back as the sisters fussed over Grace, who looked not only delicate but ill. She had violet shadows under her eyes, and her face was drawn, almost gray. She was too thin despite her bulbous belly.
Finally, Lee answered questions about Kelsey and Ethan—doing well, just fine, yes, very happy here. Grace asked about Kate’s engagement to Grant and insisted on seeing her engagement ring, which seemed unusual to Char since she wore no jewelry herself and was dressed so plainly. She exclaimed over the ring but tapped the face of Kate’s watch as if it were time for them to go.
“Will you go out to a doctor to have the baby or does a midwife come in?” Kate asked. “I heard they do deliveries here, but we can arrange a doctor for you.”
“Yes, I’ll have a trained midwife, with lots of good support. I’ll be very well taken care of,” Grace assured
them, but her voice was shaky.
Char wondered if Lee didn’t approve—of what?—because he kept glowering at them and had so little to say. She rose from the bench next to Grace and spoke to him. “Do you want a boy or a girl, Lee? With one of each already, do you have a preference?”
“A son. We look forward to a son,” he said.
This close to him, Char noted that the pupils of his eyes were large, as if they’d been dilated for an eye examination. Could he be drugged? He seemed almost robotic, zombielike as Kate had said earlier.
After only fifteen minutes together, it was time to say goodbye. Grace gripped Char’s hand and darted her eyes toward the wall with the morning star Bible verse again. Did she want them to understand that the name Bright Star was precious, special? Was she drugged, too? Surely not in her advanced state of pregnancy, but Char sensed she dare not ask. Maybe if she came alone later, brought a baby gift here, she could find out more.
They said their goodbyes, promising to be back soon with something for the children and the new baby—a month yet to go, Grace had told them. They all hugged again and when they did, Grace grabbed Char’s wrist and whispered what she thought was the word, watch, but she quickly stepped back and moved away without another glance.
Then it hit her. Grace had only pretended to admire Kate’s new engagement ring but she had tapped her watch. And she had whispered, “watch!” and looked at the wall with the framed quote. Watch for what? Was that a warning?
In the hall, Char noticed another framed quote about a bright and morning star, only in different script—big, bold letters, not fancy, cursive writing. It looked as if it hung opposite the one on the other side of the wall. The glass over the quote reflected in the hall light. On impulse, she stepped forward and lifted the frame from the wall. There was an eyehole behind it, so there must have been one on the other side!
“Hey, put that back,” their escort said.
“Oh, I just think it’s such beautiful words,” Char told him, pretending to stare down at the quote and turning her back on the small hole as if she hadn’t seen it. Blessedly, neither of her sisters said a word. “Do you know...” Char asked, giving the quote one more fake, lingering look. “Can I order one of these?” She handed it back to the man as Grace and Lee stood in the doorway staring. “I’ll drop by to find out later. And thanks for guiding us in to see our family today.”
Tess looked puzzled, and Kate looked livid as they walked out. They were back in the day care van before Tess demanded an explanation. “What was that all about?”
“Good work, Char,” Kate said. “But I’m not sure you covered up your discovery like that plaque covered the hole. That sounded pretty heavy-handed about wanting to buy one of that maniac’s self-aggrandizing quotes he’s ripped off from the Bible to justify his power.”
“What? Tell me!” Tess insisted.
“Grace is in some kind of trouble,” Char said. “Deeper than just not wanting to have her baby there. There was a peephole in the wall, and she was trying to tell us she—or we—were being watched.”
6
Char had hoped to calm down after the visit to the Hear Ye cult by the time Matt picked her up for dinner at the cabin that evening. But just being with him was revving her up in a far different way. It had been a while since she’d got dressed up for a fancy date—and it seemed ages since she’d been with a man so attentive and attractive.
As her mother would have said, Matthew Rowan “cleaned up well.” Not that he hadn’t looked nice this morning at Tess’s, but—well, who knew a suit coat over a shirt and V-necked cable-knit sweater could look so good. Char wasn’t one to care about appearances, but to have been picked up in a luxury car, not a truck, which was all she’d been used to for months—years...
Get hold of yourself, Charlene Lockwood, she lectured herself. You don’t care about luxury items. This guy is not Prince Charming. You will not let this turn your head.
As they walked through the door into La Maison, the blonde hostess gave Matt a kiss on both cheeks, which jarred Char back to reality. “Bonjour, mon ami. Booth or table, Matt?” She had a French accent, no less, and Matt said something to her in French.
The place looked about half-full, probably mostly with Lake Azure residents. A low buzz of conversation mingled with recorded music. Char knew this was one of Tess’s favorite places. Since her honeymoon, Tess was into everything French. And this woman knew Matt fairly well, so he was no stranger here.
“A back booth would be great,” Matt told the hostess.
They followed her past the bar. Several people sat there, including Brad Mason, the younger brother of Kate’s fiancé, Grant. Brad was a slightly shorter version of Grant with dark blond hair, blue eyes and a muscular build. He was talking to another man but was obviously watching the front door over the other guy’s shoulder. Char had only met Brad a couple of times at Grant’s house, once at the announcement party for their engagement. All she really knew about him was that he used to work at the lumber mill with Grant but now worked for the fracking king, Royce Flemming. So that meant Matt must know him, too.
“Yo, Matt,” Brad said, standing to shake his hand. “Glad you’re back among the living and—” Brad did a double take as he took her in. “Charlene, future sis-in-law. I heard you were there to save the day—and save Matt.”
“He got out of the truck on his own, but I was there.”
“So Royce said.”
“You’re not meeting him here, are you?” Matt asked, taking her arm, rather protectively, she thought. The two men seemed merely cordial, not really friendly, when she assumed their ties to Flemming would make them on the same team at least.
“Met with him earlier today—at length,” Brad said. “He’s working late at the lodge tonight. Actually, I’m waiting for another local success story, the Fencers, who live down the road from where your family lived, Charlene.”
“Sure, I know the Fencer place,” she said. “The current owners are probably the third or fourth generation there. It used to be a pretty big farm, but now it’s just a few fields. When we were kids, the Fencers didn’t have girls for us to play with but we got along well with the boys. So, you’re saying they’re getting a contract for drilling on their land?”
“That would make sense since they’re the closest place to the old Hear Ye cult land that’s got so much action there,” Matt said.
“Ah, yeah, right,” Brad said and took a quick swig of amber liquor from his glass. Not beer, the drink of choice around here, Char thought, but then times were changing. She could see the glass bottoms of numerous wine bottles nestled in a crosshatch pattern of shelves behind the polished wooden bar.
Brad went on, seeming nervous. “Yeah, that old Bright Star cult land above Cold Creek is a really busy place. Getting oil and natural gas out of there galore. Quite a production.”
They chatted about Kate and Grant’s coming wedding—Brad would be best man and Char and Tess would stand up with Kate. “And the view from the reception in their living room will be a burial mound,” Brad said with a shake of his head. “I’m sure the late-night comedians could make something out of that, but I’ll skip the one-liners.”
He shrugged with a grin that was more of a grimace. They said goodbye, and Char and Matt moved on to their booth in the back corner where the hostess had left their menus. The white linen tablecloth with a single red rosebud in a vase gleamed in the light of a big candle in a glass globe. More forks and goblets were set at each place than Char had seen in a long time.
“Lucky Fencer family, I guess,” Matt said, sliding in across from her. “Those leases or sales contracts mean a lot of money.”
“I’m pretty sure Mrs. Fencer is the sister of Sam McKitrick, Jemmie’s dad. I hope we won’t have another Hatfield and McCoy problem when the Fencers get filthy rich and the McKitricks are hurting up in
the hills.”
“That’s one sad thing about the fracking. It’s like some winning the lottery and others close to them just watching the riches pour in. But listen,” he said, reaching over to take her hand, “let’s just get to know each other better this evening. No more talk about fracking, poor kids, how we met. What’s important is that we did, and we’re going to enjoy our time together.”
“Deal,” she said, lifting and shaking his big warm hand. He held on to hers. “And one more thing—no more trying to convince me not to live in the cabin. I’ll be fine there.”
“At least you’re not far away, and I know where to find you.”
He smiled. Their gazes held. Her stomach cartwheeled. They still held hands. Suddenly, she didn’t care if they were in the best restaurant in the universe or at the Dairy Queen. She was deeply happy to be here with Matt Rowan.
* * *
They were sipping wine and eating the delicious, warm French bread when Char saw the Fencer family trail into the restaurant as if they had just entered Disneyland, craning their necks to look around, eyes wide. She knew it was them because, though she hadn’t seen him for years, she recognized Joe Fencer. Brad bounced up to greet them. She couldn’t believe Joe had four kids already.
For sure she remembered Tess saying that Sara Ann, the mother, was one of the McKitricks. Brad directed them to a distant table, one in Char’s line of sight. He was ready to wine and dine them to close the fracking contract on the land of their family heritage.
She didn’t say a thing to Matt about all that, since he’d set out rules for the evening, but her mind went again to little Penny Hanson up on the mountain, holding her precious colored crayons. One of the Fencer daughters, maybe nine years old, was obviously in awe of this place. She sat bolt upright in her chair, stroking the white linen tablecloth and nearly jumping out of her skin when the server handed her the large leather-bound menu. Brad was playing host, drinking water now. At least that family lived in town so the kids could all get to the consolidated schools.