Ghost House Revenge

by Clare McNally

  “There’s a car under the water!” one shouted, pointing. “We saw a body in it!”

  “Sure, there is,” the lifeguard drawled. “You think I’m crazy?”

  “It’s true,” the boys insisted in unison. “It’s true!”

  “I think you’d better call the police,” Owen said, staring at the innocent-looking blue water of Belle Bay.

  He believed the boys. And, his stomach turning, he knew what the police would find when they came.

  “Home at last,” Melanie sighed to herself as she propped a grocery bag on one hip and unlocked the back door. Inside the kitchen she put two parcels down on the wooden table. Then she turned to go back outside, where two more bags were waiting in the trunk. But she decided she’d better go upstairs first to let them know she was home. She had been stuck in that traffic jam for twenty minutes.

  Her voice, calling her children, rang through the house. But she heard no response. Melanie went upstairs to Kyle’s room.

  It was empty.

  “What is this?” she demanded out loud.

  She saw the Monopoly board on the floor, resting against the unmade bed, its pieces scattered everywhere. Kyle wasn’t a messy child, but he was mischievous; he had probably used the golden opportunity of her absence to leave his bed. Melanie noticed his robe was missing from the closet and prayed he had taken it out himself.

  She went out into the hall.

  “Kyle?”

  No answer. God, the house was quiet. Why didn’t she hear the children talking or laughing? She went to Gina’s room and when that proved empty, tried Nancy’s. Then her studio and Gary’s office. Why didn’t her children answer her calls?

  They couldn’t have gone outside, she thought, her panic building.

  Derek would know where they were. He’d tell her they were off playing somewhere. As angry as Melanie would be with Derek, she hoped to God that was the case. But Derek didn’t answer when she knocked at the door. Thinking he might be taking a nap, Melanie carefully opened the door. She stepped into his room and cried out.

  Like Gina, Melanie was at first too stunned to move when she saw the junkpile Derek’s room had become. Sheets and blankets were torn from the bed, clothes strewn everywhere, swirls of crayon marked the headboard of the bed. Melanie almost screamed when she read the lipstick scrawling on the mirror.

  MOMMY AND DADDY LOVE ALICEN

  And below:

  MOMMY AND DADDY KILL BAD CHILDREN

  “Kill bad children,” Melanie repeated, her voice choked.

  Alicen’s reflection appeared in the mirror. “They’re all going to die,” she sneered, in that horrible voice.

  And suddenly Melanie recognized it.

  “No!” she screamed. She went to Alicen and grabbed her roughly. “What have you done with my children? Where are they? Where are they?!”

  “Mommy’s going to kill them,” Alicen said, in her own voice. They’re bad children.”

  “Oh, no,” Melanie said, shaking her head. “No, they’re good children. Why does she want to hurt them?”

  Alicen shrugged. “I don’t question my mother.”

  “Alicen, please,” Melanie begged. “Tell me where she’s taken my children.”

  Alicen shook her head and refused to answer. With a disgusted, frightened cry, Melanie pushed by her. She raced down the hall, crying loudly, “Derek?”

  If he was there, he didn’t answer. Neither did the children when she screamed their names. Derek must have kidnapped them.

  It had to be. She couldn’t possibly have heard that sneering voice a moment ago. It belonged to a dead woman.

  (MOMMY AND DADDY KILL BAD CHILDREN)

  “No,” Melanie said. “No, this isn’t happening.”

  She reached for the phone—it was dead. Trying to calm herself, she reached for her car keys and headed into the kitchen. She would drive to the police for help. She knew she couldn’t handle this herself.

  But the back door was closed tight, and locked.

  “I know I left that open,” Melanie cried. Quickly she opened the cupboard behind her to find the key. She was shaking so badly that she could hardly slide it into the lock. It clicked and turned, but the door wouldn’t budge. It was as if someone had nailed it shut.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Melanie ran to the front doors. She tried one, then the other. But they were sealed just as tightly, and she wasn’t strong enough to break through them. She panicked for a moment, then realized the windows in the living room were big enough to crawl through. She hurried inside and saw to her shock that someone had snapped off their brass handles.

  She grabbed the old slat-back rocker and lifted it high above her head. Using a strength unknown to her, she swung it forward, flying with it.

  “Oh, God,” she said, looking at the results. She had broken only a few panes, not enough to get out. Her shoulders felt as if she had torn them out, but she ignored the pain. She had to get to her children.

  With a cry, she lifted the rocker again and tried to swing it forward. But she couldn’t. Someone was holding it fast, behind her back. Melanie closed her eyes, afraid to turn around.

  “Look at me, Melanie VanBuren,” a voice said.

  Melanie turned slowly, dropped the chair, and screamed.

  “Are you so surprised to see me?” Janice asked. “You knew I was coming back, you murderess.”

  “No!” Melanie cried. “I’m not?”

  “You are,” Janice hissed. “You murdered me. You hit me across the head with a gun.”

  Suddenly Melanie remembered everything. She recalled the night of Gary’s accident, when Janice had fallen under Jacob Armand’s evil spell. She had tried to hurt Kyle, and Melanie had defended her son by hitting her with that pistol. But she had only stunned her. Jacob Armand was her murderer.

  “No, it was you,” Janice sneered, reading Melanie’s thoughts, “You.”

  “Go away.”

  “Oh, no,” Janice drawled. “Not until you pay for what you did to me.”

  Melanie found her legs and ran for dear life back to the—where? Where could she escape?

  There was no chance. Derek was waiting in the dining room for her. As she lunged for the kitchen door, he tackled her and threw her to the floor.

  “Let me go!”

  She wrestled with him, feeling the sweat on his body, hearing him growling at her. Her fingers found his eye sockets and dug in, yet somehow only scratched his eyelids. Giving a roar, Derek slapped at her hands.

  “HELP! HELP, SOMEBODY!”

  Down in the cellar, three terrified children cried softly as they heard their mother’s screams. And in the dining room the smiling ghost of Janice Lors watched the two fighting. She wanted to see Melanie beaten, made to suffer for what she had done.

  “Hurt her, Derek,” she ordered, her voice filled with passion.

  Melanie saw Derek’s fist rise in the air. She screamed as it came down. There was a flash of pain, and then darkness.

  Owen felt the muscles in the back of his legs tighten, and he started to breathe more deeply to calm himself. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t let himself believe the car being dragged out of the water wasn’t his sister’s. He was standing in the crowd, behind wooden police barricades. One look at the bumper sticker on the rusted, soaked automobile made him cry out and run forward, knocking down the barrier. It read:

  FLORIDA: EVERY DAY IS SUN DAY

  “Liza!” He screamed, running toward the car.

  “Hey!” a cop shouted, lunging at him. He caught Owen by the arm.

  “Let me go, damn you!” Owen shouted. “That’s my sister!”

  Still holding him fast, the cop turned and said, “Captain Davis? This guy says that girl’s his sister.”

  Bryan Davis hurried to them and took Owen by both his shoulders. Owen’s face was red with fury, his eyes flashing.

  “Calm down, fellow,” Bryan said gently. “Calm down and tell me what’s going on.”

  �
��M-my sister has been missing for a week,” Owen stammered. “I-I went up to the—”

  His words were cut off when he heard the car door crash open, giving way to a crowbar. Jerking away from the policeman who held him, he walked in a daze to the car. Two other cops were pulling a corpse from the wreck, laying it carefully on the sand.

  But, no, that couldn’t be Owen’s sister. That bloated, green, hideous thing wasn’t beautiful Liza. Not when the face looked so round, the skin so tight it seemed ready to burst. And Liza had always smelled like roses. . . .

  And she was nude. Someone had murdered her. And someone would pay.

  Owen turned away from the horrid sight and started to cry. Bryan patted his arm gently, as pictures of the body were taken for evidence and notes were scribbled in reporters’ pads.

  When Owen calmed down a bit, Bryan at last said, “You were saying you went up somewhere?”

  Owen nodded. “To that big house on the hill. My—my sister’s lover lives there.”

  Bryan felt his heart jump. The VanBuren house?

  “Come on,” he said. ‘We’re going up there.”

  “I want him to get the chair for this,” Owen seethed.

  “Yeah,” Bryan said, not certain if Liza’s boyfriend was the killer. But he didn’t want to think of that right now. He gave orders to his men and had two cars follow him up the hill. Once at the house, he ordered them to stay put until called. If Derek Miller had murdered Liza Crewe, he might become violent upon seeing the police. So only Bryan and Owen walked up the stairs to the double doors. Bryan pounded loudly and rang the bell at the same time. No one answered.

  “Open this door!” Owen shouted.

  “Shh,” Bryan said. “If he’s here, he might be hiding. And there are other people in this house—innocent people. We don’t want to scare them.”

  “What other people?” Owen demanded. “I don’t care about other people.”

  He turned and continued to pound on the door. Inside the house, Melanie’s ears perked to hear it She turned, as if she could see the source of the noise through the walls of the kitchen. She tried in vain to cry out, but her mouth was gagged, and ropes held her fast to a chair—the same chair where Janice had sat seven months ago, when Melanie had killed her.

  It had all come back to her, everything she had blocked from her mind since the night of Gary’s accident. Jacob Armand hadn’t killed Janice, she had. Janice had tried to hurt Kyle, and Melanie had stopped her. She had only meant to stun her friend but instead had killed her with that gun. Melanie understood now why she felt so guilty about Janice’s death all these months. But it wasn’t her fault. It was self-defense.

  Now Janice and Derek were standing in front of her, their arms around each other. Derek’s face was expressionless, but Janice’s wore a smile, tasting the sweetness of revenge. She was making Melanie wait—death for a murderess couldn’t be swift and painless. Melanie’s tears made her all the more angry.

  “Go ahead and cry,” she sneered. “I haven’t even begun with you.”

  The pounding on the front door stopped. Oh, please, Melanie thought. Please come to the back door.

  Downstairs, the children had also heard the pounding. Had somebody come to rescue them? Was that why the knocking was so loud?

  Little Kyle became so excited that he suddenly began to cough. Phlegm filled his throat, gagging him. He couldn’t spit because of the gag.

  He made strangling noises, falling forward. His coughing became so violent that Gina rolled toward him and tried to lift her hands from behind her and slap his back. But she couldn’t Someone had to find them before he choked.

  Crying with fear and praying this would work, Gina lifted her bound feet and kicked the wall. They made a loud, satisfying thud. Again and again she kicked at the walls, and soon Nancy was joining her.

  “What’s that?” Derek asked, looking around.

  “Those brats!” Janice cried.

  She disappeared. Seconds later, Owen and Bryan were at the back door. Alerted by the pounding, Bryan had ordered his men to surround the house. Derek saw them through the window and ran from the room. There was a loud crash, and suddenly the door was hanging by one hinge.

  “Oh, Lord,” Owen said.

  Quickly Bryan tore off Melanie’s gag as another cop cut her ropes.

  “She’s got my children somewhere!” she cried, her voice hoarse.

  “She?” Bryan echoed.

  “You mean Derek Miller,” Owen said.

  “No,” Melanie said firmly. “She.” She looked into Bryan’s eyes. “Janice Lors.”

  Bryan backed away. Janice Lors? But she had been dead seven months.

  And Jacob Armand had been dead nearly two hundred years on that November night when . . .

  “Spread out over the house,” he said over his walkie-talkie to his men. ‘We’re looking for four kids, and a man.”

  No use telling them to look for someone they couldn’t see.

  “Where did the pounding come from, Mrs. VanBuren?” he asked.

  Melanie shook her head. Where? It had come from everywhere, carried through every wooden beam of the house.

  “Just find my babies, please, ” she cried, standing.

  She hurried from the kitchen, Owen and Bryan at her heels. They broke off in separate directions, Melanie hurrying upstairs in spite of Bryan’s protests. She knew where to find Derek. And she’d make him tell her where her children were.

  He was in Alicen’s room, holding the girl on his lap. Melanie stopped in her tracks. Why was her face so pale, her head hanging back like that?

  Derek stared at her through tears.

  “She’s dead,” he said softly. “Janice appeared to her, and when she saw it wasn’t her mother, she collapsed.”

  “Oh, God,” Melanie whispered, moving closer to them.

  She reached out and touched Alicen’s body. It was still warm. And then she drew back and screamed:

  “Derek, where are my children?”

  “I don’t know,” Derek whined.

  “You have to know,” Melanie cried. “She’s got them somewhere, and she’s going to kill them, too. Please, Derek!”

  “I don’t know where they are.”

  “Derek, this house is filled with police,” Melanie said, her voice filled with rage. “They’ll arrest you for murder if you don’t tell me where Janice has my children!”

  Just then, Owen and Bryan burst into the room. They took in Melanie, standing there with her fists clenched, Derek, crying softly, and the little girl flopped in his arms. When Bryan tried to pry the child loose, Derek spat at him and tightened his arms.

  “I never wanted this to happen,” he sobbed. “Jesus, she’s just a kid. I never wanted her to die.”

  But Bryan had seen a soft rising in the girl’s chest. He forced Derek’s arm away and listened to the child’s pulse. “This child is alive,” he said, standing. “She needs an ambulance.”

  “Oh, Derek!” Melanie cried. “Can’t you see what she’s done? Janice almost killed your little girl. She’s made both of you her slaves. Don’t give in to her, Derek. Please tell me where she has my children.”

  Derek rocked his daughter back and forth. Alive? She was alive?

  “The—the cellar,” he stammered. “She’s got them in the storage room.”

  Without hesitation, Owen and Bryan ran from the room. Even as they hurried downstairs, Janice was standing over three cowering children, her eyes blazing.

  “You wicked children,” she said. “You tried to call for help, didn’t you? And now Derek’s sent help down here—but hell pay for defying me.”

  She took a step forward. “But first—”

  Gina screamed as best she could and kicked at the massless body. Janice laughed at her.

  “Don’t try to stop me,” she said. “You deserve to die, all of you.”

  She grabbed Nancy’s curls and lifted her off the floor. The child stuggled like a fish, with no arms or legs to flay. Janice sho
ok her roughly and threw her to the ground. “You’re all going to die.”

  But just then, the door crashed open. In the same instant Janice was gone, leaving Bryan Davis alone to gape in wonder at the children. Quickly, he untied them. Melanie appeared in the doorway now, and Kyle and Gina ran to her.

  “Oh, my babies!” Melanie whispered. “It’s all right.”

  “Nancy’s hurt!” Gina cried.

  Melanie looked up at Bryan, who had taken the child in his arms. He passed by her and carried her upstairs. Moments later, all three children were in the back of an ambulance. But Melanie wasn’t with them.

  “Where’s my mother?” Kyle shouted.

  “I don’t know,” Bryan said, hurrying back to the house. Owen was at his side, and Bryan turned and snapped, “Stay out here. This doesn’t concern you.”

  “He killed my sister!” Owen yelled.

  “Derek Miller didn’t kill your sister,” Bryan insisted.

  He ran into the kitchen. Melanie was standing there, holding hands with Derek, speaking in firm tones.

  And Janice was standing across from her.

  “You can fight her, Derek,” Melanie was saying. “You’re a strong man. Don’t let her control you.”

  “You fool,” Janice hissed. “I do control him. Derek, I want her to die. Now.”

  Derek shook his head slowly. “No.”

  “What did you say?” Janice demanded.

  Bryan took a step forward but stopped when Melanie spoke again.

  “He isn’t going to listen to you any more,” she said. “Not since you tried to kill his daughter.”

  “Derek, you’re my lover.” Janice screamed. “Kill her!”

  “Melanie, get out of this house,” Derek said.

  “Where am I going to go?” Melanie demanded. “I want to see this ended now, or I’ll never escape her.”

  She began to cry again. Suddenly, infuriated by her tears, Janice pounced forward to grab her—but somehow Bryan managed to beat her to it. Without looking back, he dragged Melanie out to the ambulance.

  “Get them to the hospital,” he said to the drivers.

  He turned back as the ambulance drove away, carrying a mother hugging her three children for dear life. Suddenly, Bryan realized Owen Crewe was now nowhere in sight. He raced to the house. Owen was in the kitchen, staring at something with wide eyes. Bryan turned to where his eyes were fixed.