by Jane Godman
Brynn shrugged. “He says it’s different. When we were here last, aside from the shadows, he couldn’t pick anything up. It was like something was blocking him. Now, whatever that was has dissipated.”
“Is the kid the only spirit he’s seen?” he asked, thinking of the burned woman whom he fortunately hadn’t seen in days.
“In the house.” Brynn lifted the bacon out of the pan and onto a plate. “There’re more outside.”
A clatter from behind him jerked his attention to Mrs. Voyle. She’d dropped a teacup on the tray and her hand shook badly as she righted it. Lips pursed, face pale, the woman had obviously been listening to their exchange.
“Have you seen anything, Mrs. Voyle?” Declan asked. She’d clearly heard the banging earlier even if she’d made no comment about it.
“I don’t know what I’ve seen,” she muttered, without taking her attention from the tray.
“What about before any of us came here, before the arrests, did you ever hear or see anything then?” Brynn asked.
Mrs. Voyle released a soft sigh and turned to face them, her narrow face and pointed features somehow more prominent with her skin so pale. “Eleri had always said she’d seen things here, shadows watching her she’d said, but I never saw anything.
“I knew that there was something wrong with this place, but it didn’t want me, and I was certain there was something off with Eleri.” Mrs. Voyle touched her temple to drive home just what she thought was wrong with Eleri. “But the other day I was cooking. The window had gotten foggy.” She gestured to the glass above the sink. “And I saw words as if someone had written with their finger. It said ‘Kill Him.’ I wiped it away and when I turned back to the stove there was a woman. I think she was a woman. She was so badly burned.”
Declan’s stomach turned to ice and dropped to his feet. “That was the day you screamed?”
She nodded. “She just disappeared in the blink of an eye. I was terrified to come back, but the longer I thought about it, the more I wondered if it had really happened, if I’d just imagined it from all the talk of Dr. Evans’s investigation. I haven’t seen the woman since, but the noises…”
Declan didn’t share that he’d seen the woman, also. After all, he wasn’t sure if she would be comforted by the knowledge that someone else had seen what she had or terrified that the woman hadn’t been a figment of her imagination.
“I need to take this up,” Mrs. Voyle said softly, her hands still shaking when she gripped the edge of the tray. “Mr. Warlow will be waiting.”
“Yeah, go ahead,” Declan said. He had more questions. Maybe she had thoughts about who else could have been involved in the murders, theories or even village gossip, but she was visibly upset and he didn’t want to push. He’d try speaking to her later, give her some time to calm down first.
Tray in hand, Mrs. Voyle crossed the kitchen but stopped at the door and turned back to them. “I nearly forgot Miss. James. When you and Mr. Conway had gone to Chicago, there was a call for you.”
Brynn frowned. “Back in April?”
The housekeeper nodded. “I’m afraid with everything that happened I’d forgotten, and then you’d gone on to Holyhead…”
“Who called?”
“Someone from Hazelwood Nursing Home. They wanted you to know that you’d been added to the visitors list for Hildy Banks. I’m sorry that it took me so long.”
“It’s okay,” Brynn said as Mrs. Voyle hurried away. She turned to Declan. “That’s interesting.”
“Who’s Hildy Banks?”
“She was the housekeeper before Mrs. Voyle. She worked at Stonecliff when my mother first came to live here, maybe even when your mother was here. I thought she could tell me about Meris.”
Would the woman remember his mother? Could she know what had happened to send her running?
“I don’t know how much she could have told me, though.” Brynn shrugged “The nurse I spoke to in the spring implied Hildy Banks was quite senile.”
“You won’t know unless you go to see her.”
Brynn frowned, slipping the plate of bacon into the oven to keep warm. “Why are you so interested?”
He shrugged. “You’re not the only one who has questions about their mother.”
She closed the oven door and straightened. “Let’s wake up the other two, eat, and then we can decide what to do next.”
* * *
Cold dread knotted in Carly’s stomach as she watched the battered Land Rover bounce down the narrow drive away from Stonecliff. Andy was gone because of her, and as irrational as the feeling was, she hated the idea of Declan being out of her sight. As if he would vanish the same way Andy had.
Of course, Declan wasn’t alone. Brynn was with him.
Reece tugged at her sleeve. “Come on.” He nodded at the path that would take them into the woods and to The Devil’s Eye. “Let’s get this done.”
His voice was terse despite his stoic expression. Maybe he hated the idea of Brynn being out of his sight as much as Carly did Declan. She didn’t ask, though. Talking about it out loud would be like tempting fate.
Instead, she blew out a sigh and followed Reece into the forest. Trees rose up around them, bare branches reaching up to the dull gray sky like bony fingers. The relentless hush of the surf against the shore followed them, mingling with tittering birds and small red squirrels darting through the dead leaves carpeting the forest floor.
“Are you seeing anything?” she asked.
Reece gave a curt nod. “There’re three men. They’d been outside Stonecliff, but they’re following us now.”
“Why don’t you ask them about Andy?”
“I will once I’m closer to The Devil’s Eye.”
“Why wait?” She didn’t bother to hide her impatience. Every minute that passed, her anxiety grew until she thought it would swallow her.
“There’ll be more spirits closer to the Eye. It will better our odds of getting an answer.”
“So there was no one at Stonecliff when you were last here?”
He shook his head. “Just the shadow man, and I probably wouldn’t have seen that if I hadn’t been with Brynn. It had no interest in me at all.”
“What’s different?”
“Everything,” he muttered. “Last time, I felt like a radio station that couldn’t pick up a signal. Nothing was getting through, just this faint hum, but that’s faded now.”
“Faded, but still there?” she asked.
He nodded, his gaze fixed on something through the trees. Carly looked to what had caught his attention. The stone gateposts, rusted gate leaning on the pillar closest to them, stood less than a few feet away.
“This is different, too,” Reece said, walking closer, though he’d slowed his approach. “The first time I tried to go through this gate the pain was so intense it brought me to my knees. I forced my way through when Ruth had Brynn and I thought my head would explode.”
“You heard voices once you were past the gate,” Carly prompted.
He nodded. “I didn’t pay much attention. I was focused on Brynn.”
He stepped over the threshold between the posts and turned back to Carly and grinned, holding out his arms. “Ta-da.”
“Did it hurt?” she asked.
He shook his head. “There’s still a humming in my ears, but no pain.”
“You might just be picking up the geomagnetic field. Whatever it is that makes you sensitive to spirits might be sensitive to the surge of natural energy given off at The Devil’s Eye.”
“Maybe, but then why was it so much more intense here than it was the closer I got to the bog?”
She wished she had an answer. “I don’t know. Why can you pass through virtually unscathed now, but six months ago you couldn’t without excruciating pain?”
“It’s different now, looser somehow.”
Carly nipped her lip and frowned. “So what’s changed that would affect the energy here, that you can see spirits now, but couldn’t a
few months ago? Samhain is just a day away, and according to legend the veil between the spirit world and ours lowers. Could that be the reason for increased activity?”
Reece jerked his shoulder. “No one’s died this year.”
“Ruth Bigsby killed three people,” she reminded him.
“Not at The Devil’s Eye. If Kyle’s pattern is correct the last man to die here would have been in June of last year.”
He was right, but could that be affecting the energy given off by The Devil’s Eye, somehow draining it of power?
“Let’s keep going,” Declan said, and started down the path toward the bog.
Carly fell into step beside him, watching his gaze dart to the edge of the trees on both sides.
“There’re so many,” he muttered.
“The men murdered at the bog?”
He nodded. “It’s as if none of them have crossed over.”
The trees gave way to black water and long, tangled grass. Her heart rate kicked up. The memory of hands dragging her down beneath the icy liquid was still fresh in her mind. Reece stood at the edge of the water and turned a slow circle. His usual shuttered expression had gone, leaving him wide-eyed by what he saw.
“I’m looking for someone,” he said. “A man, he’s been taken, probably the way some of you were. Does anyone know where he is? Who has him?”
His gaze darted from side to side as if more than one person was speaking.
“Well?” she asked, her heart thudding against her chest.
“They don’t seem to know anything that’s going on outside the estate. One mentioned the round room where he’d been kept. They didn’t see who killed them. Whoever it was had been wearing hooded robes.”
Kyle had said the same thing. “How many were there?”
“Three.”
“Any women, or were they all men?”
“No women,” Reece told her, then turned to face people who weren’t there. “You don’t have to stay. Cross over.”
Silence stretched out for a long moment, then Reece turned to face her, black brows pulled together in a deep frown.
“They say they can’t, that The Devil’s Eye won’t let them go.”
Her stomach churned sickly at the idea that people would be trapped here for eternity. What was this place? Why had these men been killed? Who was getting ready to kill again?
“Have you seen the burned woman Declan talked about?” If she was a protective spirit, maybe she could answer their questions.
Reece shook his head. “You think she’s Alaina Worthing?”
“Or someone tied to the family, someone who died in the fire.”
“I’m not going to get anything else here,” Reece said. “Let’s move on to the ruins of the old house. Maybe she’ll come through there.”
She and Reece walked around the edge the bog, following a path through the trees to the moss-covered foundation of the Worthings’ home. Silence descended on them like a thick blanket. No birds flitted between the bare branches; no squirrels scurried across the forest floor.
“Holy God,” Reece muttered, grimacing.
Goose bumps studded Carly’s skin; the hair at the back of her neck stood rigid. “She’s here, isn’t she?”
Reece nodded, his gaze fixed on the charred stone poking through a blanket of fuzzy green moss, likely where a door would have been when the house was intact.
“Ask her—”
Reece held up his hand to silence her. Whoever he saw must have been speaking. Finally, he glanced back at Carly. “She says we need to stop it, before it starts again.”
“The murders?” Carly whispered, not sure why.
He nodded. “We have to kill him.”
“Who?”
He tilted his head, listening to a response only he could hear. His eyes widened and he muttered a curse, turning away. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Who did she say we should kill?”
Reece shoved his hand through his hair and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We’re not going to kill anyone. Let’s go back.”
She planted herself where she was, hands on her hips. “Who, Reece?”
He sighed. “She said, the master of Stonecliff.”
Her blood iced over. Declan.
Chapter Fifteen
Hazelwood had likely once been a large estate not unlike Stonecliff. It stood at the edge of a cliff with a view of the sea, but that was all it had in common with the house Declan had inherited. Where Stonecliff, with its dull gray walls, peaked roofline and dark windows, gave off an air of foreboding, Hazelwood was tidy and almost cheerful. Maybe the immaculate green lawns and neat gardens compared to Stonecliff’s overrun outdoors made the difference.
“When were you here last?” Declan asked, getting out of the Land Rover.
“March, I think, not long after I first arrived at Stonecliff. I’d come here hoping to learn some things about my mother, but the staff wouldn’t let me in,” Brynn said, casting an uneasy glance at the sea stretched out before them. The water was the same dull gray as the sky, the monotony broken with dotted whitecaps. “More than six months of living next to the ocean in Holyhead—you’d think I’d be used to it by now.”
When he shot her a confused glance, she explained, “A result of nearly drowning when I was three is that I have some issues with water.”
“And you live on the coast?” he asked, with a chuckle.
“It would be tough for Reece to build boats inland. Besides, I’m getting used to it. I’m even starting to like falling asleep to the sound of the waves. Not that I’ll ever go out on the water, or anything, but I’m learning to appreciate it from a distance.”
“What do you do for work?” Declan asked, as they started toward the building from the parking lot. Despite all efforts to the contrary, he was starting to like his sister, especially that dry sense of humor. He thought of his family back home and the constant pressure to take care of them, to help them. Yet here was Brynn helping him.
“Back in Chicago I was an accounting manager for a holdings company, but since coming here I’ve been doing freelance bookkeeping. I started doing the books for Reece’s shop. He builds beautiful boats—not so great at keeping organized financial records. Then I started doing the books for some other businesses in the area.”
Declan chuckled. “What about Eleri?”
“She started her own nursery. She and Kyle bought a place with greenhouses in Dorchester and she’s been doing really well. She has a knack for growing things, which impresses me to no end because I couldn’t keep a houseplant alive.”
“Me neither.”
She shot him a grin and they entered the lobby. Muted shades of peach, plush furniture and a gleaming wood desk, kept the space from appearing institutional. Only the steel security door at the far end of the room and the clinical hospital gave away Hazelwood’s true purpose.
The middle-aged woman behind the desk smiled as they approached, her round cheeks lifting. Eyes warm with sympathy behind glasses perched at the end of her slightly pointed nose. Her short hair was a mass of dyed-gold curls, stiff from over-processing and too much hairspray. The plastic name tag pinned to her shirt read Sylvie.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked, her voice low and soft.
“I’m here to see Hildy Banks?” Brynn said, automatically matching her tone to the older woman’s.
“Are you family?”
“No,” Brynn told her. “But I’m on the visitor’s list. My name is Brynn James.”
Sylvie turned to the computer, hit a few keys. “Yes, of course.” She turned her attention to Declan. “And your name, sir?”
“This is my brother,” Brynn said, quickly. “I don’t think he’ll be on the list.”
Sylvie’s sympathetic smile widened and she tilted her head to one side. “Then I’m afraid he’ll have to wait here.”
“I’m sure Hildy’s family would have added him. She worked for our father for years, and was like a mother to us. H
e’s leaving for the States in a few days—couldn’t you make an exception?”
Brynn was laying it on pretty thick, but he didn’t think Sylvie was buying any of it. Despite her smile never wavering, the sympathy in her dark eyes drained as if someone had pulled a plug.
“I’m sorry. We have rules. Your brother will have to wait here. We must consider the safety of our patients.”
Declan started to tell Brynn not to worry, that he’d wait for her here, but her eyes darkened and her smile turned sharp as she leaned against the counter with both elbows. Sylvie’s smile dissolved, unease clouding her features.
“Of course your patients’ care would be your top priority. Does the name Ruth Bigsby mean anything to you?”
The woman’s mouth pursed and something flashed in her dark gaze. “I will call security, young lady.”
Brynn ignored the threat. “Ruth Bigsby is the nurse who came to care for my dying father. The same nurse that had worked for this very home and who received a glowing reference from this place, then murdered two people and tried to kill two more—myself included.”
“That’s nothing to do with me,” Sylvie said, tightly. “Besides, Ruth was a fine worker. We couldn’t have known what she’d do.”
“That’s not entirely true, though, is it? People had their suspicions when someone always died on her shift.”
Sylvie leaned closer and said, “How do you know that?”
“Does it matter? It’s true. How would those families feel if they knew that same nurse later went on a killing spree in Cragera Bay?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is a good establishment, and if you think you can ruin us or try to get money out of us—”
“All we want is to speak to Hildy Banks. We don’t want to hurt her, or upset her. We just want to ask her a few questions.”
“Wait here,” the woman said, flatly.
“Holy shit,” Declan muttered. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”
She shot him a wry smile. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I still get angry when I think of them happily sending Ruth off to care for someone else, despite their suspicions. I get that it would have been difficult to prove she’d killed those patients, and that it could have damaged their reputation, but they sent a crazy woman out into the world and now two people are dead.”