“Seriously, if you feel scared and can’t sleep, call me. It doesn’t have to be a big reason.” She hoped there wouldn’t be any more big anythings. They’d been through more than enough for one summer. “Promise you’ll call.”
“I will. Get to work, Mom. Find what you need to find so we can get out of here.”
Find what you need to find. Good advice. But what was she looking for? Unfortunately, Emma’s journal had contained no more answers. Her last entry had been the one about suspecting her brother of messing with the horses. Soon after she’d written it – maybe that same day – she’d gone out for a ride and never come back.
Unlike many of the other rooms, Henrietta’s had been stripped bare. There was no furniture to search, and the walls were blank. After running her hands along the windowsill and checking for loose floorboards, she gave up. There was nothing to find. Frustrated, she returned to Emma’s room.
She’d spread salt across the entrance to Emma’s room too, and would do the same no matter where she was in the house. Her hand strayed to her cheek, remembering.
How could she prove Emma had been murdered? The heiress’s death had looked enough like an accident to fool the police. It’s not like those who killed her would have been stupid enough to write it down, and if they’d spoken about it to anyone, that person would be long gone by now.
Every now and then, she felt someone watching her, but when she turned, no one was there. Her hands trembled as she ran her hands over the walls and searched under the mattress. One thing was certain – they needed to get the hell out of there as soon as she found any proof of what had happened to Emma. The house had a heaviness to it now, as if the walls themselves had soaked up the evil energy from the family that had once lived there.
Unlike Niles’s belongings, which had been carefully stowed in a closet, Emma’s things – her guns, her swords, her musical instruments and fine clothes – were all gone. Terri hadn’t been able to find a thing of Emma’s aside from what had been hidden in the window seat. Everything else had been given away, perhaps, or maybe sold. The thought made her sad, but then again, Emma Vandermere might have preferred that. The woman struck her as the practical type. She probably would want someone using her things, rather than having them rotting away in a closet.
After quite a few hours, Terri still hadn’t the faintest clue where to look for her evidence. Disheartened and exhausted, she decided to make herself some tea before cleaning up the mess she’d made.
Bracing herself for whatever lay beyond the door, she closed her eyes briefly and attempted to pray. She knew the Lord’s Prayer, but that was about it. Oh well. That would have to do.
Clutching the rosary Sister Grace had given her, she said the words under her breath.
“Our Father, who art in Heaven….”
Creak.
Her mouth went dry. Someone had just walked past Emma’s door, she would swear it. She’d heard their footsteps.
Taking the crucifix from her back pocket, she gripped it in her clammy hands, holding it toward the door. “Who’s there?” she asked, although she desperately didn’t want to know.
Silence.
“Hallowed be thy name.”
Creak.
She rested her hand on the doorknob. Emma’s was filigree silver on both sides. It was cool to the touch, but not freezing, as everything had been the other night. Didn’t rooms get colder in the presence of a ghost? Maybe all she was hearing was the normal sounds of an old house settling.
But no, that was bullshit. She knew what footsteps sounded like. Someone was on the other side of this door, someone who was either trying to keep quiet and failing, or who wanted to be heard.
“Dallas?”
Perhaps her daughter was scared and had come to find her instead of phoning.
Silence.
It wasn’t Dallas. Her daughter was too smart to leave her sanctuary at night, and for a moment, Terri wished more than anything that she was with her. Now she could feel someone on the other side of the door, almost hear them breathing. Their presence bore down on her, exhausting her. She bowed her head.
“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done….”
Creak.
Terri raised her voice, extending the crucifix toward the door. “On earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who have trespassed against us.”
She heard laughter now – chilling, evil laughter. It raised the hair on the back of her neck and made her arms prickle. Though tears of fright stung her eyes, she wiped them away with her sleeve and kept going.
“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” Terri spoke louder now, nearly yelling the last words. She pictured Niles backing away from the door and slinking away to his hole in the cellar. “For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever, amen.”
The house was quiet, and the atmosphere felt lighter. Whatever had been lurking outside the room was gone. Holding the crucifix toward the entrance, she slowly opened the door with her other hand, half expecting Niles to leap out at her. That was exactly the sort of thing the psychopath would find funny.
The hallway was dark, but as she waited, eyes straining to see any shadow, the lights flickered and came on. She’d left them on – she knew she’d left them on. Continuing to hold the crucifix in front of her as if it were a weapon, she shut the door behind her and made her way to the kitchen.
As she crossed the parlor, she noticed a light glowing in Howard Vandermere’s study. It was the one room in the house where she hadn’t spent much time, but the one that had been kept most intact. The man’s shelves of books, his pipe, and his ram’s-head snuff mull were still there, as if he had left the room briefly, intending to return. Terri knew full well that she hadn’t turned the light on in the study. Was someone else in the house? Ghosts don’t need light.
She was startled to see a man in a suit sitting at the desk, writing in a book with a fountain pen. He looked up when she entered, but his face remained expressionless, as if he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see her.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello?” From the old photographs she’d seen, she recognized the man as Howard Vandermere, but he looked so real. She really had to get over this notion that spirits were transparent.
“I assure you, I am quite dead, and unlike my son, I am not the slightest bit hesitant about admitting it.” He gestured at her hand, which continued to clutch the crucifix as if to ward him off. “You can put that down, if you like. I am – was – a man of God, and I have no wish to harm you.”
Terri lowered her arm, feeling foolish.
“That’s better. Would you like to have a seat?” he asked, indicating the chair across from his desk. “We have much to talk about, but I am afraid I do not have much time.”
On wobbly legs, she crossed the room and collapsed in the chair, unable to keep from staring. She couldn’t believe this man was a ghost. It was easier to believe she’d traveled back in time, to when Howard Vandermere had been in his prime.
But not quite. The man’s spirit didn’t look well. There were shadows under his eyes, and his suit jacket didn’t fit properly, as if he’d lost a considerable amount of weight.
“My son did that to you,” he said, gesturing to her cheek. “I apologize on his behalf. I assure you, my wife and I did everything we could to rid the world of his evil, but unfortunately, forces such as that are stronger than human will.”
“Your wife…?” She found his meaning hard to follow.
He sighed. “One of the greatest mistakes I made was involving Elizabeth. I should have taken care of it myself, and left her none the wiser. Let her believe that our malevolent progeny slipped away in his sleep. How simple would that have been? However, for all my faults, I have always been an honest man. It was one of my
greatest qualities, as well as my greatest curse.”
Terri had a hard time believing what she was hearing. She’d never, not for a second, suspected Howard, in spite of Gertrude’s suspicions. “You killed Niles?”
“My son would have died in any case. Terrible disease he had, and the promised cure wasn’t working. Perhaps that was what destroyed his mind as well. What my beloved wife and I did was ensure no one else would meet an untimely death by his hands.”
He lowered his head, as if ashamed to look at her. “I should have taken care of it myself. That was my great failing. But it took the two of us to hold the pillow over his head. Despite his illness, our son had the strength of the Devil.
“She never recovered, my darling Elizabeth. Though she understood it had to be done, the weight of that terrible secret haunted her for the rest of her days. It destroyed her. I will never forgive myself for that.”
Terri leaned forward, clutching her head with both hands. Against her will, she saw Niles’s parents pressing a pillow over his face, the teenager’s arms and legs flailing as he fought to survive. As disturbed as Niles had been, had he deserved that? It was an appalling death.
“I can see you’re horrified by what we did, that you believe we were monstrous, taking the life of our own son. I don’t blame you, but we truly felt we had no choice. When animals were his victims, we could turn a blind eye, pretend we were not aware. But once he directed his wrath toward people, we had a responsibility we could no longer ignore.”
“Emma.”
The man blanched, looking pained. “Yes, Emma. If we had taken action sooner, we might have saved her. That is yet another great regret. We could not let her death go unanswered.
“Her spirit is unquiet. She has visited you, and showed you the truth of her murder.”
It was not a question, but Terri nodded. She’d always suspected her vision of the day Emma died hadn’t been a dream.
“So you understand our son did not act alone.” Howard Vandermere paused, looking at what he had written, and then set his pen aside. “I could not find it in me to cause harm to a girl, even a girl capable of such a foul act. Her mother and I prayed that, without Niles’s influence, the darkness in her own soul would retreat. For the most part, I believe that it has.”
Terri wasn’t so sure. There had been too much joy on young Henrietta’s face when she’d brought the rock down on her sister’s neck. That kind of bloodlust didn’t just vanish. The Vandermeres had plenty of money and power, two things that could cause questions to remain unanswered, and problems to go away.
“I need your assistance to bring this sad chapter of our history to a close,” he said. “There is a compartment in that corner.” Vandermere pointed over her shoulder. “Within it, you shall find the proof you are seeking. Once you have found it, I ask that you do one final thing for me, and for the others who have needlessly suffered because of my family.”
“What is it?”
He stared at her, making her squirm. “Burn it. Burn Glenvale to the ground.”
Her jaw dropped. “I-I can’t do that.”
“You must. It is the only way to free all of us, and to ensure Niles does no further harm. Do you want what happened to Miss Phillips to happen to another woman? For more contractors to go missing? You are living on borrowed time yourself, Miss Foxworth. Once you have restored this house to its former glory, do you truly think my daughter will let you leave? You already know too much.” He held up his hands, and she could see the light shining through them. “I would do it myself, but these old things do not work so well these days.”
With her mind reeling over what he’d revealed – that perhaps the other contractors’ absence wasn’t as straightforward as Henrietta had led her to believe – Terri forced herself to focus on his deranged request. “That’s arson, Mr. Vandermere. You’re talking about arson, which is a crime, a crime that carries a lot of jail time. I restore old homes; I don’t destroy them.”
“Don’t think of it as destroying anything. You would be protecting others from this evil. You have doubtlessly felt it yourself.”
“Yes, I have, but I can’t burn down this house. That would go against everything I believe in.”
“I can’t guarantee you would not face trouble with the law,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. “Nevertheless, I will do everything in my power to protect you, and I am certain the other benevolent spirits in this house will as well.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t. If I go to prison, I might never see my daughter again. My ex is already trying to take her away from me.”
“Please, Miss. Foxworth. I don’t know if I’ll be able to make this appeal again, or speak to another soul in this house. Glenvale is evil. It has become his source of power and her playground. As long as it stands, more people will suffer and more people will die. Do not let their deaths be on your conscience.”
Before she could argue, he held up a hand again. “Find the compartment and look at the evidence before you make your decision. Will you do that much for me?”
Terri nodded. “Okay—”
But he was gone. The aroma of cherrywood tobacco lingering in the air was the only tangible proof he hadn’t been a dream.
The last thing she wanted was to have anything more to do with the Vandermeres. What despicable people, what a loathsome family. The son and daughter had murdered their own sister, and then the parents had murdered the son. How sick was it possible to get? Only Emma remained blameless, and God forbid Terri dug too deeply into her life.
She remained in the chair for a moment, head spinning, but the sensation of heaviness had returned to the house. She suspected she didn’t have much time. Whatever Howard Vandermere had wanted her to find, she needed to get it and then get the hell out.
Terri hurried to the far corner of the office where the ghost had indicated, and started her search for a compartment. She looked behind books, going so far as to remove some of the shelves, but nothing.
“Where is it, Howard?” she whispered. “Where did you put it?”
Though the books could conceal a hiding spot, it wasn’t where the spirit had pointed. He’d appeared to be pointing at a blank wall, but that didn’t make much sense. Could Vandermere have gone to all this trouble for a joke, a joke on her? She didn’t think so. Did ghosts lie? Niles had definitely misrepresented himself.
I have always been an honest man. It was one of my greatest qualities, as well as my greatest curse.
She could hear his voice as if he were still in the room, speaking to her.
“Okay, Howard. If you’re so honest, where is it?” In desperation, Terri ran her palms over the wall, with no clue what she was looking for.
One of her hands sunk slightly into the plaster. Her heart picking up speed, she used her fingertips to feel along the wall. There was an indentation! She kept feeling until she came to what she thought was a corner. Then, moving her hands farther down, she pressed on it, hard.
Nothing happened.
Taking a deep breath, she tried again, but this time light and quick. She heard a soft popping sound, and a compartment in the wall opened.
“Holy shit. I apologize, Howard. You were honest.”
Hands shaking, she opened the little door wide enough to see what was inside. If she’d expected a smoking gun, she was disappointed. Instead, the contents were a bundle of cloth about the size of a small pumpkin, and a sheaf of folded paper.
She removed the cloth-wrapped parcel first. It was surprisingly heavy. After setting it on the man’s desk, she scurried back for the papers.
Tempted to carry both items back to the room she shared with Dallas, she again felt that sense of urgency. Was it Howard Vandermere’s influence, or her own instincts? Whatever the cause, she decided to examine them right there in the study, but didn’t feel right using his chair. Instead, she opted for the same one as bef
ore.
The bundle first. It was an effort to lift it from a sitting position. Within the cloth, the object was solid and unyielding. She began to unwrap it, feeling uneasily as if she were removing the bandages from a mummy. This object, whatever it was, had belonged to the Vandermeres. For all she knew, it was Niles’s skull she held in her hands. She wouldn’t have put it past them to keep something ghoulish.
The last bit of cloth fell away to reveal a seemingly ordinary stone. It was jagged in places and spotted liberally with what looked like brownish-red paint. But Terri knew instantly that it wasn’t paint. It wasn’t an ordinary rock, either.
Emma.
With her hands shaking so violently she could barely control them, she laid the rock on Vandermere’s desk and unfolded the papers.
To whom it may concern,
If you are reading this, it may be assumed that I am dead, and that my fair wife Elizabeth has also passed. I trust that this document has fallen into honest hands, and that the person who learns my truth will make sure that justice is done, as if justice will ever be possible.
We were overjoyed when we were blessed with a son, a male heir to carry on the family name, but we soon learned that what we had initially thought was a blessing was, in fact, a dreadful curse. When he was an infant, our son refused to give us a moment’s peace, forever wailing and shrieking at the top of his lungs. Elizabeth took him to physician after physician, but not a one could find any cause for his distress, or any method to relieve it. The opium-laced sleeping aid, which had come highly recommended and worked so well with our other children, had no effect.
While my dear Elizabeth tried to shoulder the burden bravely, I would catch her looking at me with fear in her eyes as our son screamed. If he is such a trial now, her countenance appeared to say, what will become of us once he is older?
If we had known what awaited us, this story would have ended much sooner.
His screaming subsided once he became a toddler, but any relief was short-lived. Our son revealed an alarming knack for cruelty. He had some uncommon ability to detect which objects were most precious to a person, and systematically undertook the task of destroying them all. His mother and eldest sister Emma were favorite targets, and both ladies lost many cherished possessions before I ordered locks for their rooms. Even so, this only worked for a time; as he grew older, he taught himself how to dismantle any lock. Instead of the heir we had longed for, our son had the makings of a gifted thief.
The Restoration Page 20