The Drifter

by Richie Tankersley Cusick

  Joss sounded amused. “Hmmm … and I thought I was there. I thought you and I stood on the sidewalk and talked.”

  “I don’t mean then. I mean later.”

  Shadows moved like liquid around him. His voice was deep and very soft.

  “I’ve been working.”

  “Have you ever met Molly?”

  “Who’s Molly?”

  “A bag lady who lives on the beach.”

  “No.”

  Carolyn stared at his silhouette and bit her lip in frustration. For one instant she could feel his kiss again … the strength of his arms … So what’s going on, Joss, and why were you so different then—

  “I’m going to bed.”

  “Good night,” Joss said.

  “If you need anything, you’ll have to knock loud—I’m going to lock my door.”

  Again the shadows stirred, velvety blackness flowing around him like a dark, dark cape.

  “That might be best,” he murmured. “We wouldn’t want any more accidents … would we?”

  20

  STUPID … STUPID … YOU PRACTICALLY CAME RIGHT out and accused him—you practically admitted you suspect him!

  Carolyn was furious with herself.

  She locked her bedroom door and leaned her head against it, her heart pounding.

  So transparent! I can’t believe how obvious you were down there—why didn’t you just come right out and ask him how he killed Hazel and how he made Mom fall!

  “Get a grip, Carolyn,” she muttered to herself. “Don’t go over the edge on me now.…”

  Like Hazel went over the edge … like Mom went over the edge … like I almost went over the edge …

  She turned and stared at her room. It blurred for a moment through tears, and then it came into focus once more.

  But if he’s a murderer, then why did he save me last night?

  She let her eyes wander slowly over the walls … the furniture … windows … her suitcase still propped open in the corner …

  My suitcase.

  Someone’s been in my suitcase.

  She didn’t know why she thought so. She knelt on the floor beside it and very slowly, very carefully began pulling out her clothes—one by one—holding each thing up to the light and examining it closely for—what? What am I looking for?

  She got to the end and put everything back. She sat there in the corner and let her gaze roam once more around the room. She’d made up her bed that morning, but now the covers looked rumpled and hastily smoothed. The pillow seemed slightly off center. The spread hung unevenly to the floor, as though someone had lifted it to look underneath.

  Why would someone be in my room—what would they be looking for?

  Carolyn was mystified. Her personal things hadn’t even arrived yet—she’d hardly brought any clothes with her, much less anything of value that someone might want to steal. And she certainly didn’t have anything with her that she might want to hide or lock away.

  She crossed to her bed and sat down. It made her skin crawl just thinking someone else had been in here, searching through her things, maybe even sitting where she was sitting now.…

  But it’s just a feeling … I can’t really prove anyone was in here.…

  Uneasily Carolyn crawled into bed and clutched the covers to her chin. For a long, long while she hovered in that strange twilight state between sleep and wakefulness, and then finally she dreamed.

  Voices were calling her—and the voices were the sea—and hands reached out from the waves, grabbing her arms and ankles, trying to pull her into the dark, churning water. She screamed, but no one heard. She tried to run, but the sand melted beneath her feet, pulling her down, swallowing her whole.

  “No!”

  Carolyn bolted upright in bed, her heart thudding. For the first few seconds, she looked wildly around her room, but then, as she realized it was just a nightmare, she huddled down under the blankets and tried to take deep, slow breaths.

  She lay there wide-eyed, staring at the ceiling. There were no sounds from the third floor. No scratches, no clawing. No door banging back and forth in the wind. She raised up on her elbows and looked over at her windows. The wind was blowing fiercely, but there was no storm tonight. Nothing to be scared about … nothing at all.…

  She got up. She pulled the flashlight from the nightstand drawer, and then she went to her door. She put her ear against it and listened. Everything on the other side seemed peaceful and still. After several moments she peeked out, then tiptoed into the hall.

  Joss’s door was open.

  Startled, Carolyn peered through the doorway, trying to penetrate the thick shadows of his room. Her first thought was that he must have fallen asleep without shutting his door, but the longer she stood and listened, the more she came to realize that his room was empty.

  “Joss?” she whispered.

  No answer.

  “Joss? Are you in there?”

  She felt her feet moving noiselessly across the corridor … felt her hand lifting to knock. What came out was a soft tapping sound she could barely hear herself.

  “Joss?”

  Carolyn pushed the door all the way in. By squinting, she could just make out his bed beneath the window, and several other pieces of furniture scattered among the shadows.

  But Joss wasn’t there.

  Carolyn glanced furtively over her shoulder. She scanned the hallway from one end to the other, her eyes lingering fearfully on the attic door. Everything seemed as it should be; she was quite alone.

  She didn’t know what she expected to find. She didn’t even realize what she was planning to do until she was already standing in the middle of his room, playing her flashlight carefully across his bed. The covers hadn’t been turned down for the night. There were no personal belongings anywhere.

  She walked over to the bureau and pulled open the top drawer. Underwear. Socks. Hastily she closed it and went on to the next drawer—and the next. T-shirts. Shaving things. She slid the drawers back into place again and eased open the doors of the armoire. Just a couple of shirts. Not much to suggest he was planning to stay very long.

  This is stupid—what am I doing anyway?

  The thought suddenly came to her that Joss could return at any second. And if he came in unannounced and found her snooping around …

  She backed away from the armoire. She started past the bed again when she noticed something jutting out from under the spread, so she knelt down on the floor to investigate.

  Books?

  Carolyn aimed her flashlight onto the small stack, and then she frowned.

  Yes … the books from the library.

  She glanced over her shoulder, then very quickly began flipping through the volumes. Some of the pages had been turned down at their corners, and Carolyn looked them over carefully. To her disappointment, all she found were things she already knew—bits and pieces of local folklore and a rather nonsensical retelling of the legend of Glanton House.

  The last book was nothing but pages and pages of names. Nothing in here seemed to be marked, but as she closed the book, her eye fell upon some writing scrawled on the inside back cover. She held her flashlight close and whispered them aloud.

  “‘Glanton. From England. Means a hill used by birds of prey, or as a lookout place.’”

  Carolyn read the words again.

  She read them again and yet again, and then she sat back on the floor and shook her head.

  “Doesn’t make sense,” she murmured to herself. “Why would someone have written them down when they don’t even make …”

  And then … slowly … she felt her skin crawl.

  She stared at the words and her heart quickened in her chest, sending little thrills of excitement all through her body.

  “Lookout place … birds of prey …”

  And in the back of her mind she was hearing Andy’s voice again, on the very first day she’d met him, when he was talking about the island and its colorful history—


  “Pirates … smugglers … hurricanes … shipwrecks … you name it, it’s had them all …”

  “My God,” Carolyn whispered. “Matthew Glanton wasn’t just an ordinary sea captain—he was a pirate!”

  Her head was spinning. She read the words on the cover again, and her thoughts were flying thick and fast, so that she could barely keep up with them—

  That must be it—that’s got to be it! Matthew Glanton was a pirate and this was his lookout place, which means he must have brought cargo back here to unload and hide it—in caves maybe, along the coast, or even in this very house—treasure he got when he and his men preyed on helpless ships at sea—

  And things were falling into place now, faster and faster, and Carolyn was so excited she could hardly hold the book in her trembling hands.

  And Carolyn’s lover must have known! And he only pretended to care about her, only pretended so he could find Matthew’s treasure! He never counted on Matthew coming home again and ruining all his plans! But Matthew got his revenge—Matthew didn’t die that night, just like Molly said—Matthew came back and killed them both—the man who tried to murder him, and the wife who betrayed him—

  Carolyn put a hand to her heart. She felt positively dizzy, and she leaned back against the wall, trying to get her thoughts under control.

  Why hadn’t Joss told her about the books? And why had he hidden them under his bed? Pirates … murder … treasure—

  Something creaked in the hallway.

  With a burst of terror Carolyn jumped up, dropping the book, and snapped off the flashlight.

  Footsteps …

  And they were coming this way.

  Carolyn panicked. She hurried to the door, but it was already too late. There was no way she could escape now without being seen—no way she could get back to her own room before Joss came in and found her. Without a second’s hesitation, she squeezed behind the bedroom door and flattened herself against the wall.

  The footsteps were closer. In the terrifying silence they echoed down the corridor, pounded through her brain—and yet she knew they were no louder than a whisper, that they were approaching slowly … cautiously.

  Carolyn clamped her eyes shut and prayed to be invisible. To her horror the door moved slightly. The footsteps froze just outside her hiding place.

  Silence surged through the hall. It enveloped Carolyn like a net, choking her, squeezing each beat of her heart.

  Through the cracks between the hinges, Carolyn saw a huge shadow looming over the door. She heard the faint rattle of the doorknob … felt the door inching slowly backward as she tried to mold herself even flatter against the wall.

  Oh, please no …

  The door stopped.

  She didn’t dare breathe. Her chest ached, and the blood froze in her veins.

  The footsteps started again.

  They moved across the hall and paused outside her bedroom, and Carolyn shut her eyes, trying to remember if she’d closed her door. After what seemed like forever, the steps moved on once more. She could hear them creeping toward the staircase, then they faded down to the floor below.

  Joss … what are you looking for?

  Carolyn willed herself to move. She summoned every ounce of strength and forced herself out of the bedroom, forced herself to creep to the top of the stairs where she could look into the hallway below. He’d already gone outside, and she knew he couldn’t hear her now because the front door was still open and the wind was rushing in—yet still she tiptoed down, still she huddled there in the shadows, afraid to move, afraid he might step back in and see her there and—

  A blast of wind caught the door, nearly crashing it against the wall. Carolyn stifled a scream and flung herself into a corner, watching in fear as a shadowy arm caught the door just in time and pulled it shut.

  One final draft gusted through the room. It flared the embers in the fireplace and scattered them across the hearth.

  And then without warning something swept across the floor and sailed straight into the fireplace.

  Carolyn watched as a thin curl of smoke began to rise. She stared at the logs for several seconds before it dawned on her that a piece of paper had blown in on top of them. Running over, she snatched the paper out again just in time to save it from burning.

  It had a jagged, irregular shape, as though it were torn, and a memory flashed back to her from that very morning—Joss coming into the kitchen, stuffing that paper into his pocket.

  Carolyn inhaled slowly and held the paper nearer the light. It looked fragile and brittle. It was practically falling apart.

  Someone had ripped it lengthwise, leaving only the ragged right-hand side of the page, but there were words still visible there, lettered in faded ink …

  MY SECRET TREASURE

  DARK

  GRAVE DESPAIR

  HOME

  LIFE AND

  DEATH

  ETERNAL.

  Carolyn lowered the paper and stared into the fire.

  My secret treasure …

  Glanton House. A pirate’s house … a house of murders … a house of mysteries …

  For wouldn’t a pirate’s house have many secrets?

  Secrets hidden? Secrets forgotten? Valuable secrets? Secrets locked away, so long, long ago?

  “Locked away,” Carolyn murmured. “With a key.”

  21

  CAROLYN STOOD THERE BESIDE THE FIRE, STARING HARD into the flames, seeing nothing.

  Treasure?

  Was it possible? Treasure hidden somewhere in Glanton House?

  Treasure that someone was trying to find because of this strange clue on this old torn piece of paper …

  She sank down on the hearth, burying her face in her hands.

  Treasure worth scaring people for?

  Killing people for?

  She couldn’t stay down here. She had no way of knowing when Joss would come back and what he might do if he found her waiting. I can’t let him know … I can’t let him know I’ve found this paper.…

  But surely he’d miss it. Surely he’d miss it and come searching for it sooner or later. Just like he’s been searching for the treasure.…

  The footsteps up and down the hall at night … the muffled tappings deep in the house … these pages marked in the library books … Now it was all starting to make sense to her. Joss must have been searching for treasure all this time—that’s why he’d wanted this job so badly.

  Again she held the paper up close, squinting at it in the shadows, and as she did so, Andy’s words drifted back to her with new and terrible meaning. “Nora said Hazel took in drifters now and then—word got around the docks that she’d give them work and a hot meal. They made Nora really nervous, so Hazel would call her up and tell her not to come if one of them was staying there. Nora never actually saw them. So who knows—maybe Hazel made them up.”

  Carolyn lowered the paper to her knees. Or maybe one of them was real—maybe one of them was Joss and maybe one dark night he disguised himself as Captain Glanton and lured Hazel to the cliffs—and now he’s come back for the treasure, only this time Mom and I are in his way instead of Hazel.…

  Carolyn shuddered and rocked slowly back and forth, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her heart heavy and sick. He already knows I have the key … he was standing right there on the porch last night when I yelled at Andy—that’s why I had that weird feeling about my room—he’d been in there looking around, and he followed me to the village today, too, and—

  Something creaked out on the porch, and Carolyn jumped to her feet. Panicking, she bolted for the stairs and ran to her room.

  She locked the door and huddled behind it, listening for sounds from downstairs. She had that strange dreamlike feeling of standing off watching herself from some other person’s body. The house was quiet. No sounds came from the first floor. The paper … I’ve got to hide that paper.…

  She was afraid to turn on the light. She was sure the front door hadn’t opened … sure
that no one had entered the house, and yet she could almost feel eyes following her.

  Almost as though someone were hiding and watching.

  As though she weren’t alone in her room.

  She wondered where Joss was and when he’d be back. Tomorrow she’d run straight to the police.… She’d tell them all her suspicions about him.…

  And you’ll sound as crazy as Molly McClure, and you’ll be the laughingstock of the island, just like Andy said.

  Carolyn groaned and wondered what she was going to do. She had nothing but feelings to go on—feelings and doubts and no kind of proof whatsoever. The police couldn’t do anything about Joss, except maybe force him to leave the house. And then what if he comes back—and what if he did kill Hazel and do something to Mom’s ladder and push me off the widow’s walk—he’s so good at making things look like accidents—

  “Stop,” Carolyn hissed. “Stop it now!”

  Her mind was going in circles; she wasn’t thinking straight anymore. In darkness she groped her way to the bed and found her pillow, and then she slipped the note beneath it. She lifted the covers, but they felt heavy somehow, as though they were snagged on the other half of the mattress. Carolyn gave them a tug, then climbed in, burrowing down beneath the blankets.

  Something was in her bed.

  It was lying beside her, stretched out, lightly touching her back as she moved against it.

  Carolyn froze. Her body went stiff, and her heart shot to her throat and stuck there, choking her, beating out of control.

  Slowly … fearfully … she felt for the lamp and switched it on.

  And at first it didn’t register, the hideous thing lying next to her on the other pillow, grinning at her as she slowly rolled over and touched it, face to face.…

  It had no eyes.

  It had no flesh.

  And as Carolyn screamed and screamed, the skull’s mouth gaped open in a silent shriek of terror.

  22

  SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT SHE WAS DOING.

  Carolyn flew downstairs and out of the house, racing blindly into the fog. She ran until she stumbled and fell, and then she lay on the ground, sobbing and beating her fists in despair.