by John Saul
Dr. Belter smiled at him. “I make it a practice to find out everything I can about all my patients, and their families. So when I first met you people, I started snooping.”
“And what did you find?” Rose asked.
“A certain Reverend Caspar Winecliff,” Dr. Belter said, savoring the name.
“You mean the old Methodist minister?” Jack said, his brows arching. “We hardly know the man.”
“Ah, but he knows you,” the doctor intoned, enjoying the baffled looks on the Congers’ faces. Then he dropped the air of mystery.
“Actually, Caspar Winecliff simply has a passion for local legend and folklore, particularly with reference to New England curses and that sort of thing. My personal opinion is that he enjoys the subject because he thinks it’s wicked and flies in the face of his good Methodist background. If you ask me, he believes every word of every legend he’s ever heard, though of course he denies it. And the Conger legend happens to be his favorite.”
“You’re kidding,” Jack said. “I knew the legend wasn’t any great secret, but I didn’t know anybody was that interested in it.”
“I didn’t either, until I was down at the library one day asking some questions. I was hoping to find some old papers or something that would have the legend written up. They didn’t, but the librarian put me onto Caspar Winecliff. How much do you know about your legend?”
Jack recounted as much of it as he knew, and when he was finished the doctor nodded his head.
“That’s it, all right, except for the story about the little girl.”
Jack and Rose glanced at each other, and Dr. Belter thought he saw alarm in their eyes.
“What little girl?” Jack said apprehensively. For some reason, an image of the portrait in the study came to his mind.
“It has to do with the relative who went off the cliff,” the doctor began, looking inquiringly at Jack.
“I know about him,” Jack said. “I’m not sure what his name was.”
“It was John Conger, actually,” Dr. Belter said seriously. “The same as yours.”
Jack felt a chill in his spine. “What about him?”
“Well,” Dr. Belter said, “the story is that the reason he jumped off the cliff was that he had just molested and killed a little girl. His daughter.”
The blood drained from Jack’s face, and he stared coldly at the doctor.
“Just what are you trying to say?”
The doctor smiled reassuringly. “I’m not trying to say anything. I’m just telling you the story. And, of course, it could be entirely apocryphal. Caspar Winecliff tells me they never found a body, and, for that matter, there don’t seem to be any records of John Conger’s ever having had a daughter.”
Rose saw the portrait in her mind’s eye, with the nameplate removed from the bottom of the frame.
“Did Reverend Winecliff have any idea of how old the girl was, or what she looked like?” She was almost afraid to hear the answer.
Dr. Belter shook his head. “Nothing about what she looked like, but she was supposed to have been about ten or eleven years old.”
“About the same age as Sarah?” Jack said, a distinct edge in his voice.
“yes,” Dr. Belter said, meeting his troubled gaze, “about the same age as Sarah.”
“Dr. Belter,” Rose said, “just what are you getting at? It sounds as though you believe in the whole silly legend.”
Dr. Belter thought carefully before he answered, and when he spoke he chose his words precisely.
“Whether or not I believe in the legend isn’t what’s at issue here. What’s at issue is whether or not your husband believes in it. Do you, Mr. Conger?”
Jack started to speak, but the doctor stopped him.
“Don’t answer quickly, please. Think about it And try to think about it on two levels. I’m sure your conscious mind doesn’t believe that there could be any kind of curse on your family. In this day and age we tend to think of such things as silly. But there is also your subconscious mind. Often we find that the things our conscious minds refuse to take seriously our subconscious minds deal with in a very serious manner. Essentially, that is what dreams are all about, and, sometimes, neuroses and psychoses. One might say that mental illness results when our conscious minds and our unconscious minds try to do each other’s jobs. So think about it before you answer my question.”
Jack did, and found that he was amazed by the answer he came up with. He smiled sheepishly at the doctor.
“Okay,” he said. “I guess I have to admit that I do believe in the legend, including the curse. I suppose with us Congers it’s like religion. We were brought up with it, and while we know it’s nonsense, it’s still lurking there, just below the surface.”
Dr. Belter nodded. “But you say you never heard of the little girl before?”
Jack shook his head. “No. I’m sure. I’d have remembered. Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? If the story of the little girl is true, there are some pretty strong parallels between what happened to her and her father, and what happened to you and Sarah. Except that with you and Sarah no molestation took place, and nobody died. But otherwise, it’s the same thing.”
“History repeating itself?” It was Rose’s voice, and the two men turned to her. “I don’t believe it.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Dr. Belter said. “Although the effect would be the same. Do either of you know anything about voodoo?”
“That it’s a lot of hoodoo,” Jack said, too quickly.
“Not quite,” Dr. Belter replied. “It’s based on the power of suggestion. Essentially, what it boils down to is this: If someone believes strongly enough that something will happen, it will, in all likelihood, happen. For instance, voodoo tradition has it that you can cause pain in a person by sticking pins in an effigy of that person. The catch is that the person has to know that pins are being stuck in the doll. Once he knows the pins are being placed, his own mind will create the pain. Do you see?”
Jack mulled it over. “In other words, you think I might be a victim of the legend, simply because I believe in it?”
“That’s it,” Dr. Belter said. “Simplified, but that’s essentially it.”
Rose smiled wryly. “Except that we didn’t know anything about the relevant part of the legend. The little girl. You said yourself that there’s no evidence she exists.”
But she does, Rose, Jack said quietly. “Don’t you want to tell Dr. Belter what she looked like?”
Dr. Belter turned questioningly to Jack.
“We found a picture in the attic,” Jack explained, and went on to tell the doctor about the portrait.
“But how can you be sure it’s the same little girl? How can you even be sure it’s a Conger child?”
“Because,” Jack said, his voice a whisper now, “the girl in the picture looks exactly like Elizabeth.”
“I see,” Dr. Belter said after a long silence. “Mr. Conger, are you sure you never saw that picture before, or heard anything about it?”
“Not until a year ago,” Jack said definitely. “Not that I can remember.”
“Not that you can remember,” the doctor repeated thoughtfully. “But we don’t always remember everything we want to remember, do we? I think maybe it would be a good idea to try to find out exactly what you do remember.”
Jack appeared to be about to object, but at the look on Rose’s face, a look that told him he’d better agree, he sagged in defeat.
“Very well,” he said. “When shall we begin?”
Dr. Belter examined his calendar. “How about two weeks from tomorrow, at one P.M.? Both of you.”
Before Jack could protest Rose said, “We’ll be there.”
The session with Dr. Belter ended.
Neither of the Congers felt better about anything.
They were more frightened than ever.
14
Fifteen miles from White Oaks School, while Jack and Rose Conger sat chatting
with Dr. Charles Belter, the final bell rang through the halls of Port Arbello Memorial School, and the children poured out of the classrooms. Elizabeth Conger picked Kathy Burton’s face out of the crowd and hurried toward her.
An eager smile lit Kathy’s face. “Is today the day?” she asked.
“What day?” Elizabeth’s face was blank.
“Is this the day you’re going to take me to the secret place?”
Elizabeth looked at her oddly, and Kathy’s eyes widened as she felt a thrill of excitement run through her. Then she sagged with disappointment.
“I can’t,” Kathy said. “I’m supposed to go right out to the Nortons’ to baby-sit.”
“That’s all right,” Elizabeth said, her eyes suddenly seeming to bore into Kathy’s. “The secret place is only a little farther out than their house, and it won’t take very long.”
“I don’t know,” Kathy said doubtfully, “I told Mrs. Norton I’d be there right after school.”
The two pris left the school building and began walking toward the Conger’s Point Road. As they left the town behind, Elizabeth began talking quietly about the secret place and the wonderful times she had there. As she talked, Kathy Burton began to wish she hadn’t promised Mrs. Norton her baby-sitting services for the afternoon.
“Why don’t we go tomorrow?” she asked.
Elizabeth shook her head. “No. It has to be today.”
“Well, I don’t see why it can’t wait,” Kathy sulked.
“It just can’t, that’s all,” Elizabeth stated. “But if you don’t want to go …” She let her voice trail off.
“But do want to go,” Kathy insisted. “It’s just that I promised Mrs. Norton.” She waited for a response from her friend, but when none came she looked at her watch.
“Maybe if we hurry,” she said. “I could be a little late.”
Elizabeth smiled at her and quickened her pace. “It’ll be all right,” she said. “You’ll see. You’ll love the secret place.”
As they passed the Nortons’ driveway, Kathy felt a twinge of guilt and wondered if Mrs. Norton was watching for her. When she didn’t see anybody, or hear anyone calling her, she relaxed. When they were out of sight of the Nortons’ house, she spoke.
“How much farther is it?”
“Not far. Just past the old Barnes place. Have you seen the people who bought it?”
“He’s cute,” Kathy said. “What’s his name?”
“Jeff Stevens. He’s fourteen. His mother’s an artist.”
“Does he know about the secret place?” Kathy asked.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll tell him,” she said. “We’ll keep it just for us.”
They passed the old Barnes house, and looked curiously at it They’d both heard that it was being remodeled, but from the outside it looked the same as ever.
“It sure is ugly,” Kathy said.
“The Barneses were crazy,” Elizabeth commented. “It’s even weirder on the inside.”
“You’ve been in it?” Kathy asked.
“Not for a long time,” They were coming to the woods now, and Elizabeth took Kathy by the arm. “We go through here,” she said. Kathy looked at the woods nervously.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m not supposed to go in there. They think that’s where something happened to Anne Forager.”
“Nothing happened to Anne Forager,” Elizabeth scoffed. “You know what a liar she is.”
Kathy mulled it over. It was true, Anne Forager was a little liar, and she did want to see the secret place, but still … She made up her mind.
“All right,” she said. “But you lead. I don’t know the way out here.”
They left the road and plunged into the woods. Their route took them through the center of the woods, and every now and then they caught a glimpse of the sea through the trees on one side or the field on the other. There was no trail, but Elizabeth seemed to have no trouble making her way through the underbrush. Kathy stumbled now and then, and had to call to Elizabeth to wait. She was determined not to fall behind. Then Elizabeth made a left turn, and in a couple of minutes they stood on the embankment, high above the surf.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Elizabeth whispered.
“Is this the place?” Kathy asked, looking around. Somehow it was not what she had expected.
“No,” Elizabeth answered. “It’s over that way.” She led Kathy along the embankment, and at a certain spot, a spot that looked to Kathy to be no different from any other spot, Elizabeth started down the face of the embankment. Behind her, Kathy stopped.
“It looks awfully dangerous,” she said. Elizabeth turned and looked up at her, and Kathy thought she saw something in Elizabeth’s eyes, something that made her uneasy. “I’m not sure I ought to,” she said nervously. “I really should be at the Nortons’ by now.”
“Are you chicken?” Elizabeth said scornfully. “Look, it’s easy.” She leaped from one rock to another, and Kathy had to admit to herself that it did look easy. Besides, she wasn’t chicken, and she wasn’t going to let Elizabeth think she was. She began picking her way down the embankment, trying to follow the path Elizabeth had taken. It was not so easy.
Kathy told herself that she was having a harder time of it just because she hadn’t done it before. Next time, she assured herself, she’d know the way and be able to go as fast as Elizabeth. She glanced up and saw Elizabeth disappearing behind an immense boulder. That must be it, she said to herself.
When she got to the boulder Elizabeth was waiting for her. Kathy crouched down in the deep shadow that cast the crevice between the boulder and the face of the embankment in almost total darkness.
“Is this it?” she whispered, and wondered why she was suddenly whispering.
“Almost,” Elizabeth whispered back. “Look.” She pointed to a spot deep within the blackness, and Kathy suddenly realized that it was not a darker shadow, but a small hole in the embankment.
“We aren’t going in there, are we?” she whispered.
“Sure,” Elizabeth whispered back. “Are you scared?”
“No,” Kathy lied, and wondered how much face she would lose if she turned back now. “It’s awfully dark, though, isn’t it?”
“I have a light,” Elizabeth said. She reached into the hole and pulled out the flashlight from its niche behind a rock just inside the mouth of the cave. She clicked it on and shined it into the opening.
“It’s a tunnel,” Kathy whispered. “Where does it go?”
“To the secret place,” Elizabeth said. “Come on.” She crept into the tunnel, and Kathy saw that there was enough room for Elizabeth to crawl along without hitting the roof of the cavern. Swallowing her fear, she followed Elizabeth.
In half a minute they were in the cavern surrounding the shaft. Elizabeth waited for Kathy to emerge from the tunnel, and heard Kathy say, “This is neat.”
“We’re not there yet,” Elizabeth said. “The secret place is down there.” She shined the light into the shaft, and heard Kathy suck in her breath.
“Where does it go?” she breathed.
“Down to the secret place. I have a ladder, see?” Elizabeth directed the beam of the flashlight to the rope ladder, which still hung in the shaft, securely anchored to the rocks on the cavern floor.
“I’ve never climbed one of those before,” Kathy said, wondering if her lack of experience would get her off the hook.
“It’s easy,” Elizabeth said. “Look. I’ll go first, and when I get to the bottom I’ll hold the light for you. It isn’t very far, and you won’t fall. Besides, even if you do, you won’t fall far enough to hurt yourself. I’ve done it lots of times, and there wasn’t anybody to hold the light for me.”
“How did you find this place?” Kathy asked, wanting to delay the moment when she knew she would have to conquer her fear.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ve known about it for a long time. My friend told me.”
“Your friend?”
“Never mind,” Elizabeth said mysteriously. “Come on.” Holding the light, she began climbing down the rope ladder, and in a few seconds she was on the floor of the pit. She shone the light up and saw Kathy’s frightened face peering down at her.
“I can’t see you,” Kathy hissed.
“That’s because I’m behind the light,” Elizabeth hissed back. “Come down.”
Kathy pondered the situation. She was afraid of the shaft, and of going down the ladder, but she didn’t want Elizabeth to know how frightened she was. She glanced back toward the entrance to the tunnel, and the blackness there made up her mind for her. She wasn’t about to try to make her way through the tunnel in the total darkness behind her. She eased herself over the lip of the shaft, and her feet found the ladder. The descent was much easier than she had thought it would be.
“I have some candles,” Elizabeth whispered, keeping the flashlight trained on Kathy’s face. In the glare, Kathy barely saw the flare of the match as Elizabeth struck it Elizabeth put the match to two candles, then snapped the flashlight off. For a moment Kathy couldn’t see anything in the gloom except the twin points of light, and Elizabeth’s face looming in the glow.
“This is spooky,” she said uncertainly. “I’m not sure we should be down here.”
Her eyes began to adjust to the gloom, and she looked around the cavern. There didn’t seem to be much to it—just a large, uneven room with some boulders strewn around. In the middle, some of the boulders had been arranged in a circle, like a table and chairs. Then Kathy saw something behind Elizabeth.
“What’s that?” she asked. Elizabeth stepped aside, and Kathy’s eyes slowly took in the skeleton that was neatly laid out along the wall.
Her scream was cut off by a sharp slap.
“You have to be quiet down here,” Elizabeth said, in a whisper that seemed to Kathy to echo through the cavern more loudly than her scream. She wanted to scream again, but the sting of the slap kept her silent.
“We’re going to have a party,” Elizabeth whispered “Just you and me and my baby.”
“Baby?” Kathy repeated hollowly. “What baby?” She wasn’t sure what Elizabeth was talking about, and her mind, clogged with confusion, couldn’t seem to get a hold on anything. Then she knew that Elizabeth must be referring to a doll.