The Dead Room

by Heather Graham

  “We need to look into that, then,” he said seriously.

  They went through the whole of the downstairs. In the servants’ pantry, Joe paused, looking questioningly at Leslie, who ducked her head, unwilling to meet his eyes. Then he lifted the hatch. Light streamed up from below; she had forgotten to turn off her lantern earlier.

  Joe didn’t say anything, only started down the stairs. He waved a hand at her to stay where she was until he had made a circuit of the room.

  “It’s all right,” he said.

  She went down and found him studying the hearth and the wall beside it. He walked closer to the bricks and tapped them, pushed at them.

  “What are you doing?” she asked at last.

  “I don’t know.” He looked at her. “I thought maybe there might be a hidden latch, a secret door, a room behind the room. Sort of like your city beneath the city.” He smiled.

  “Oh.” She walked over and stared at the wall with him. The grout was almost as dark as the brick. She tapped at one brick after another, but she couldn’t tell if there was a hollow space behind it or not.

  “You’d asked me for maps,” he murmured.

  “It’s all right. I got them myself. At the library,” she explained.

  “And?”

  “Well, the first subway ran north from City Hall to 145th Street,” she said.

  He nodded. “Something to think about. Anyway…the house is empty. I guess I should go.”

  Not really, she could have told him. But as for any flesh-and-blood danger…

  “Adam is in the room you were in last night, and Nikki is with me. But please, don’t sleep in your car again—and don’t try to tell me that’s not exactly what you’re planning to do. The bed in the master chamber upstairs actually has a brand-new mattress on it. Stay here,” she said.

  “All right. It’s going to be a busy morning.”

  “Right. You have your meeting with Eileen.” She paused. “And you’re going to speak to Brad, too, right?”

  He took a deep breath. Exhaled. “Leslie, he’s been a customer of the girls on the street for a long time now. Years.”

  She felt the blood drain from her face, but she refused to believe it. Brad? A kidnapper, even a murderer? No. No way.

  “Lots of men hire prostitutes,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Hey, I’m not with the vice squad.”

  “Joe, if you get into a fight with him—”

  “I have no intention of fighting with him. I’m just going to tell him what I’ve discovered and see how he reacts. But if I ever find out he was behind what happened to Matt, or what’s been happening to you…” He didn’t need to go on; the threat was obvious.

  “I promise you, Brad would never hurt me. For one thing, I’m the one who makes him famous all the time.”

  “Let’s call it a night, shall we?”

  She nodded and started up the steps ahead of him. They met Nikki and Adam back in the main entry hall. “Clear?” Joe asked.

  “Clear,” Adam agreed.

  “I’m sorry. I guess I heard the house creaking,” Leslie said.

  “There’s nothing like a good tour of a historic house in the middle of the night, I say,” Nikki said with a casual smile.

  “All right, then…back to bed?” Adam suggested.

  They all started back up the stairs. Leslie was surprised when Joe, who was bringing up the rear, paused on the top step, looking down.

  “What is it?” Leslie asked.

  “The house,” he murmured. “Just the house.”

  On the upper landing, they split up.

  “I promised Melissa that I’d buy the doughnuts tomorrow morning,” Leslie murmured. “This morning, now.”

  “We’ll still make it up early,” Nikki promised.

  “Your bed is in there—just step over the cords that hold the tourists back,” Leslie told Joe, pointing.

  “Cool,” he said. “I get to cross the line.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead and said good night to Adam and Nikki. Adam gave Leslie a thumbs-up and headed for his room.

  Nikki looked at Leslie and said, “This time, let’s lock the bedroom door, too, huh?”

  Leslie nodded. “I’m sorry I scared everyone, but I know I heard something. I swear there’s someone sobbing down there,” she said as they headed toward their room. “And it’s so strange. Sometimes it sounds as if it’s real, happening right now, but other times, it’s like an echo of something that happened a long time ago.”

  “So is it real or ghostly?” Nikki asked, closing the bedroom door behind them and locking it herself.

  “That’s just it. I don’t know.” Leslie crawled into bed, then rolled over to face Nikki. “I could swear that there’s a shaft…a room, a tunnel, something, near here. I have the subway maps, but…Anyway, we’ll start searching tomorrow.”

  Nikki hiked herself up on an elbow. “At least Joe believes in you,” she said.

  “I’ve never actually told him I see ghosts.”

  “But he knows you have a special sense. And he believes in it. And if you don’t plan on keeping him in this house with you, then neither Adam or I will leave.”

  Leslie laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m starting to frighten myself. Joe is more than welcome to stay in this house.”

  Nikki grinned and plumped her pillow. “Good. Now, let’s get some sleep. Doughnut time is near.”

  She rolled over, and Leslie sensed that she fell asleep almost instantly.

  But she herself lay awake. She could sense that someone was in the room, and she was certain that…

  That it was Matt.

  She felt his warmth. She fell asleep at last, content in the sensation of being held in his arms.

  The morning went surprisingly smoothly. By the time Leslie and Nikki headed downstairs, Adam and Joe had gone out to buy doughnuts and left coffee brewing. Melissa arrived and was delighted with the company. Then Tandy and Jeff came in, and Adam and Nikki admired their costumes before Nikki exchanged stories with them, New Orleans myth and legend vs New York.

  But, inevitably, it came time to head to the dig. They circled the fence, said hello to the guards and were ushered through the gate. They were greeted by a number of the grad students, who seemed to know Joe as well as they knew her, Leslie thought.

  She was dismayed to find, when they reached the crypt, that Professor Laymon and Brad were already there. She could feel the tension grip her when Joe greeted Brad, but apparently, whatever suspicion Joe was feeling, he hid it well. Brad clearly sensed nothing, and, true to his word, Joe kept from making a scene.

  “Brad, I’d really like some time to talk later,” Joe told him.

  “Sure.”

  “Drinks after work? I’m buying,” Joe told him.

  “If you’re buying, it’s a deal,” Brad said.

  “Great. O’Malley’s?”

  “A fine place,” Brad said, feigning a decent Irish accent.

  “You staying here?” Joe asked Adam a little while later.

  “Through the morning, at least,” Adam said. “Longer, if you think it’s necessary.”

  “I have to go meet Eileen Brideswell, but I’ll be back later.” Joe said, offering Laymon a hand. Then he kissed Nikki on the cheek. “I expect you’ll be at the airport by the time I get back, but it’s been a real pleasure.”

  “Likewise,” Nikki assured him.

  As Joe left, Leslie thought that Laymon couldn’t be happy that she had brought Adam and Nikki, two “civilians,” along, but he hadn’t said anything. In fact, he had decided that so long as he was going to be burdened with extras at his site, they should work. Now Nikki was recording a list of their findings, while Adam had been handed a soft brush and told to carefully clear the etchings on the burial stones in the walls. She and Brad had already begun to carefully work on the stone tombs that littered the crypt.

  Eventually, Laymon got a summons to come up to discuss something with a city official. Brad went along with him, anxious
, as always, to make sure he was there if anything newsworthy came up.

  While they were gone, Leslie showed Nikki and Adam the register with the births and deaths. “See? Mary…Mary…a few Kathleens…and more Marys,” she said.

  They were all facing the wall, but Nikki straightened suddenly. And turned.

  Leslie did the same, while Adam just watched the two women and kept very still.

  Mary was back.

  She gazed at them solemnly.

  “Mary?” Nikki said gently, walking toward her.

  The spectral child edged away. To Leslie’s surprise, she felt a tiny hand slip into hers. Like any shy child, Mary was hugging close to her.

  “It’s okay,” Leslie told her gently, squeezing the hand that so trustingly enfolded in her own. “Nikki is my friend.”

  “And I’m so glad to meet you,” Nikki said. “We think Leslie found your mother, and we can make sure you’re together, but…Mary, what was your last name?”

  “Mary.”

  “No, I mean…I’m Nikki Blackhawk, and Leslie is Leslie MacIntyre. What’s your last name?”

  The little girl whispered something.

  “What?” Nikki asked.

  Leslie dropped to her knees, praying not to be interrupted at this crucial moment. “Sherman. Mary Sherman,” the little girl said at last.

  Leslie stood, rumpling ghostly hair. “Miss Mary Sherman, please don’t worry. I promise that I’m going to take good care of you and your mother. All I have to do now is find exactly where you are, and it’s near here, right? Very near here?”

  “I think so,” Mary said.

  Leslie smiled at Nikki, then at Adam, who was still just watching her and Nikki silently. “We’re looking for a child’s grave belonging to Mary Sherman. Let’s get to work.”

  They began inspecting the crypt, Nikki using the register, Leslie and Adam covering the tombs on the floor and reading the plaques on the wall.

  “Bingo,” Adam said softly a little while later.

  Leslie hurried over to him. He had dusted off a plaque on the wall. She read the old English carefully. There were six tiny coffins behind the slab; the children interred within had all died of a fever.

  The last name was that of Mary Sherman. Leslie looked around, but the little girl was gone.

  After the coffins had been discovered, Leslie kept staring at the walls, tapping them.

  “Leslie?” Nikki said worriedly.

  “There’s another way in here,” Leslie said. “I realized—as we found the coffins—that I was here when I was supposedly knocked out by the falling ceiling.”

  “All right.”

  They began a search together. Nothing. No secret door. At least, none that the ages would still allow them to find.

  Nikki set an arm around Leslie’s shoulders. “We did find Mary,” she said.

  Leslie sighed. It was true. Now all she had to do was convince Laymon that the bones in the crypt needed to be disinterred so those of the woman they had discovered in what would have been the churchyard could be carefully buried with those of her child.

  “Mary?” she called softly. “Mary, I need your help. Is there another way in here? Please, Mary, I need to know.”

  One moment the child was nowhere to be seen and the next she appeared. But just as she did, there were loud noises from above. Laymon was returning.

  Mary faded away, but just before she disappeared, it looked to Leslie as if a look of pure panic crossed the little girl’s face.

  Because of Laymon’s interruption? Or because of Brad, who was right behind him?

  17

  “She’s your child, isn’t she, Eileen?”

  Eileen Brideswell stared back at Joe for a long minute, her features giving away nothing. Then she lowered her head. He saw the tear she wasn’t able to catch land on the hard wood of the table.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Eileen looked up, quickly wiping her eyes. “Yes. You don’t understand. When I got pregnant…We were society. I couldn’t marry her father. He was an immigrant, a bricklayer. In fact—” she looked sad again “—he died in an accident on the job before he ever knew about Genevieve. Back then…I was afraid that the stigma of her birth would follow her throughout her life. My brother and his wife wanted a child so badly…I was pressured by my parents…I had to give her up, and by letting Donald raise her, I at least got to be her aunt. I was supposed to marry well, and my marriage did turn out to be a good one. I don’t expect you to understand…and I…I don’t have to explain myself to you. Your job is to find Genevieve.”

  He’d learned over the years that defensive people could become angry and hostile. Still, he’d wanted—needed—the truth. From her own lips.

  “Eileen, I’m not judging you. Not in any way. It’s just that to find her, I needed the truth. I believe you’re right—Genevieve wouldn’t have disappeared without a word to you. I also believe she’s alive.” She was staring at him with wide, pain-racked eyes. He set a hand on hers. “I think we’re close.” He pulled out a manila envelope from his briefcase, producing a number of pictures, but not the one of Betty, Genevieve and Brad. He had found newspaper photos of the men who might have been involved in the case. “I need you tell me how well you know each of these men, and how well you think Genevieve might have known them.”

  She looked at him, startled when he showed her the first. “Well, that’s Robert Adair, of course. I know him very well. And through her line of work, and through the family, Genevieve knew him well, too, of course. You’re not suggesting that—”

  “I’m not suggesting anything at the moment.” He produced his second photo.

  She stared across the table at him. “Ken Dryer. Everyone in the city knows him. He’s on television every time anything happens and the police need to talk to the people of New York about it.” She leaned back. “He’s good at his job. He calms people down. He’s not a personal friend, but I’ve met him. And Genevieve must have met him, too. He spoke at the opening of a day care center that was a pet project of hers.”

  “Here,” he said, handing her the next.

  Eileen stared at him, nodding. “Professor Laymon. Of course I know him. Greta is a dear friend, and I’ve been involved with the Historical Society forever. You know that.”

  “What about Genevieve?”

  “I…I don’t know. I know she was fascinated with Hastings House. As I told you, I knew too late that she’d wanted to attend the gala. If only I’d known…but maybe it’s good that she didn’t go. She might have been…although maybe that would have been better than…”

  He gave her a moment to pull herself together, then showed her the next picture.

  “Hank Smith,” she said. “Yes, I know him and so did she. She wanted his company to start building affordable housing, rather than luxury highrises. She wanted to change the world.”

  Last, he produced the picture of Brad. Eileen looked at him. “That’s Brad Verdun. Of course she knew Brad.”

  “Of course?”

  “She met him when he was working on Hastings House.”

  “Oh?”

  “He asked her out. She thought he was cute and fun, but far too immature. Still, I think they stayed casual friends.” She sat back, shaking her head. “I don’t understand where you’re going with this. There’s a lunatic out there killing girls, my niece may or may not be alive, and you’re showing me pictures of upstanding citizens.”

  She was indignant. He wasn’t surprised. “Can you think of anyone who might have read that tabloid article? Anyone who might have known that Genevieve was your biological child?”

  “How on earth would I know who read what?” Eileen asked him. “And what does it matter, what someone read in some cheap rag?”

  “They might have been taunting her with it. They might have lured her into a car to talk about it. Eileen, what I do know is this—the last time Genevieve was seen, she was getting into a black sedan. Just
like the girls who disappeared before her.”

  The color drained from Eileen’s face. “Then what makes you think she might still be alive?” she whispered.

  “No girls have been taken in the same way since,” he said. He glanced at his watch. Adam was due to leave for the airport any time now, and he didn’t know how long Nikki was staying. He wanted to think that Leslie couldn’t be in danger, not in broad daylight, and not at a well-populated dig, but then he remembered what had happened the other day in the crypt and realized that had already proved to be untrue.

  “Eileen, I’ll keep you posted,” he promised her. “And if you think of anything at all that might be of help, tell me. Please.”

  “A black sedan, you said? A nice sedan?” she said.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “There are black sedans parked all over the financial district on a daily basis,” she said dully.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he promised.

  He reached the dig right at eleven. Both Adam and Nikki were standing outside the grid tapes but near the crypt, waiting.

  “What’s going on?” he asked them.

  “A minor argument,” Nikki said, her eyes sparkling. “I think Leslie is winning. Somehow she’s gotten Brad on her side.”

  “And you stayed to watch the fireworks? What about your flight?” he asked Adam.

  “I’ve rebooked,” Adam told him. “As has Nikki.”

  “Oh.” Joe wasn’t sure if he was relieved or a little dismayed. Would she still want him at the house if Adam and Nikki were there?

  “I can put things off for a few days,” Adam said.

  “And I have a very understanding husband,” Nikki told him.

  They both sounded cheerful, but he had the feeling that if they were staying, it was because they were worried.

  “That’s great,” he said, mostly meaning it. He had things he could be doing, and he wasn’t meeting Brad until that evening.

  “You’re going to stick around the site, then?” he asked the other two.

  “One of us will be with Leslie at all times,” Nikki assured him.

  He nodded again. “Great. So what’s the argument about?”