The Other Child

by Joanne Fluke

  Leslie stood there solidly, staring. She didn’t say anything and this time there were no tears in her eyes. She just stared without blinking, and Taffy felt the beginnings of fear flutter in her stomach as she looked into Leslie’s cold, dead eyes. There was a strange absence of expression on Leslie’s face, and there was something very different about her eyes, something that made Taffy start to tremble. Instead of being blue, as they always were, Leslie’s eyes were coal black and they looked flat and menacing.

  Taffy gulped. Maybe she’d been too hard on Leslie. Of course she wasn’t really going to tell her mother. She had just said that because she was mad. She hated to apologize, but the strange way Leslie was staring at her made her blurt out the words.

  “Leslie, I—I didn’t mean it, honest!” Taffy’s voice was high and desperate as Leslie started to move toward her. “I won’t tell my mother, really! It’ll be our secret, just yours and mine. I promise I won’t say a word! I like you, Leslie—honestly, I do! I don’t really want you to move away! I was just kidding around before—honest!”

  Now, Leslie. Christopher’s voice was firm. Leslie watched as he pulled her hand with the matches out from behind her back.

  Taffy gave a cry of fright as Leslie moved. There was a rasp in the small room as she struck a match and Taffy knew she had to get away. She had to run for the safety of the big house, but something was very wrong. She couldn’t move. Something was holding her here and she couldn’t move!

  The flame sputtered and then burned brightly.

  See the streamers? Watch the flames, Leslie. It’s going to happen now.

  The tongue of fire touched the streamers, and bright fingers of flame licked across the red-and-gold ceiling. The curtain on the stage blazed and flames spiraled upward, catching and crackling on the dry wooden beams.

  Now the fire was flickering at the hem of Taffy’s denim overalls. The flames danced upward in bright ribbons and Taffy screamed with horror as her hair blazed in a halo around her shoulders.

  Very carefully Leslie raised her camera and snapped a picture. Her eyes were huge and dazed as she opened the door and shut it firmly behind her, latching it securely from the outside. Taffy’s ghastly scream echoed in the early-morning air as Leslie walked away, out of the yard and through the vacant lot toward home. She was tired and it was time to go back to bed.

  She let herself in the kitchen door and picked up the note, slipping it into her pocket. The house was quiet. Her mother was still sleeping. She tiptoed down the hall to her room and crawled under the blankets, shutting her eyes wearily. The key fell from her tightly curled fingers and rested warm against her neck as she dropped into a deep, exhausted sleep.

  THIRTY

  Just home from Rochester, Mike was shouting for them from downstairs. Leslie awoke with a start and ran down to the kitchen. Mom was right behind her.

  “Didn’t you hear the sirens?” He was panting. “There’s a big fire at the Comstocks’ and they had to call in the fire trucks from St. Cloud. I was scared to death you might be over there, Leslie. Wasn’t that puppet show supposed to be today?”

  “Yes.” Leslie nodded. “Mrs. Ogilvie told us all to be there at ten.” She stopped and gasped. Suddenly she remembered. She had been there earlier this morning, and Christopher had started the fire! This time he had hurt Taffy!

  “It’s all right, honey.” Mike put his arms around her. “No one was hurt. The fire broke out in the guesthouse. Faulty wiring, probably. Rob said Marilyn and Taffy went into St. Cloud this morning to buy more decorations. He’s waiting for them to come back now.”

  Leslie breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing had happened. She must have dreamed the whole thing. Taffy was in St. Cloud with Mrs. Comstock, and nothing bad had happened at all.

  “That’s terrible, Mike!” Karen shuddered slightly. “It really is a lucky thing no one was there. I’d want to die if we had a fire here. If this house burned down, I’d have nothing left to live for.”

  Mike sat down at the kitchen table and stared hard at Karen. He couldn’t believe she’d said that.

  “Come on, Karen. Don’t be silly. It would be terrible, but we’ve got insurance. There’s enough insurance on this old mausoleum to buy us a gorgeous modern house in the Cities. You’d forget all about this place in no time at all. It might even be a blessing in disguise. I hate to think of what our heating bill’s going to be this winter!”

  “Stop it!” Karen glared at him, clearly outraged. “If I ever lost this place, I’d kill myself! This house is my whole life!”

  “Jesus!” Mike stood up and stared at Karen in amazement. She was really serious! Her hands were trembling and she looked ready to burst into tears.

  “Now, don’t get all upset, honey.” Mike put his arms around her. “There won’t be a fire here. This house is brick, with a granite foundation. Rocks don’t burn. This place will last forever.”

  Karen let him lead her to a chair. Her face was still deathly pale. She stared at him malevolently.

  “Why don’t you and Leslie look over the layout for the series,” he suggested. “It just came back from the printer yesterday. They really love it at the magazine. The whole thing’s there, from the first installment to the last.”

  “Do you mean it’s all finished?” Karen’s mood shifted instantly. “That’s wonderful, Mike! The Appletons would be so proud!”

  “Well, I’d better get back to work.” Mike patted Karen’s shoulder awkwardly. “You call me if you need me.”

  Mike sighed as he hurried up the stairs. Thank God he’d gotten a chance to talk to Rose! Her brother was a psychiatrist and they’d called him from her office. After hearing Karen’s symptoms, he’d suggested a change of environment. He’d said she was obsessed with the house, and the best thing was to bring her back to the Cities to familiar surroundings. She could get better care in the Cities, too. He had set up an appointment for the beginning of next week. With time, maybe they could pick up the pieces of their relationship, their marriage, and live as a normal family again.

  At last he was taking some positive action. Mike felt relieved. He’d gone straight to Rob when he pulled into town this morning. Rob thought he was right in wanting to move. They’d been working out the details when they’d heard the fire sirens.

  Mike lit a cigarette. They were getting out of this house the second the deal was firm. All it had taken was one call and Rob had a buyer lined up. Now that the house was renovated and decorated, it was prime real estate. Buying this house was the biggest mistake he’d ever made, but at least they’d come out ahead, financially.

  He noticed the two rolls of film as he went into the small room he used as an office. They were sitting in the center of his desk with a note tucked under them. IF YOU GET TIME? The note was scrawled in Leslie’s childish hand.

  Mike grinned as he picked up her film. He’d make the time right after he finished his work for the magazine. Nothing would please Leslie more than developing her film, and she deserved it. He hadn’t been paying nearly enough attention to her lately, poor kid.

  The prints for the magazine went slowly. Mike’s eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and he had to concentrate hard on the familiar process. The smell of the chemicals made his headache worse and the dark really bothered his eyes. It seemed to take forever, but at last he was through. He put the prints on the drum dryer and watched until the slow revolution of the cylinder made him dizzy. A few deep breaths helped.

  He stacked the prints and examined the pile with satisfaction. They were fine—not as perfect as he’d like them, but they’d be pleased at the magazine. It was a good thing he’d told Rose about his problem with Karen. He might have to take some time off, and she had promised to cover for him if things got rough. Rose was a great friend in a pinch.

  “Oh, God!” Mike groaned as he remembered the yellow film canisters in his pocket. He was supposed to develop Leslie’s film and his chemicals were almost exhausted. He certainly didn’t want to mix a fresh bat
ch for just two rolls. Maybe he could get by with the old stuff. Leslie wouldn’t mind if her film was a little muddy.

  He slipped his prints into an envelope and went back into the darkroom. He had a little trouble winding Leslie’s film on the reels, but after a couple of botched attempts, he finally made it. He took extra pains as he set the timer. His head was spinning and he didn’t want to ruin Leslie’s pictures.

  Her film looked all right as he took it off the reels. Leslie was turning into a good photographer. He wouldn’t bother to make a contact sheet. Of course he didn’t want to bother with enlarging, either, but Leslie would be disappointed if she didn’t have at least a couple of prints. Tomorrow he’d mix up a fresh batch of chemicals and print them all, but right now he’d just do a token few. His old hypo should be good enough for two or three more prints.

  Mike watched as the first print came up. It was a picture of a kid jumping in the river, framed by a tree branch. It wasn’t a bad picture at all. The kid was yelling as he jumped, and there was another boy up in the tree, watching. Leslie must have taken it at the swimming hole.

  He turned to the second print and sighed. There was a boy outside a window. Was it Bud Allen, the boy who’d been hurt in that strange accident?

  Mike pulled the print out of the soup to look at it more closely. Sure, it was Bud Allen and he was standing right outside his father’s Ford dealership. And there, leaning against the back of the car inside, was another kid—a skinny blond boy who looked a lot like Leslie!

  The veins at Mike’s temples began to throb painfully as a thought occurred to him. The first one—the boy jumping in the river—could it be a picture of Gary Wilson’s accident? The boy up in the tree might have done something to the rope!

  With shaking fingers Mike turned to the picture of Bud Allen again. That blond kid was pushing the car—he was sure of it.

  “Jesus!” Mike stared down at the print and shuddered. Was that how the car had started rolling? Leslie must have taken this picture right before the car crashed through the glass! Why the hell hadn’t she told him? And who was that skinny blond boy?

  When the third print came up, Mike laughed out loud in relief. Of course these weren’t pictures of the accidents! He was so tired, he was imagining things. Leslie was experimenting with her camera. She was doing silly double exposures, the same thing he’d done when he was a kid. This picture proved it without a doubt. The subject was Taffy Comstock. Her face was a little blurred, but he recognized her. Her mouth was open and she was clowning around, yelling because she didn’t want her picture taken. And over Taffy’s image, Leslie had exposed a picture of a bonfire. There was another kid standing behind Taffy with a lit match. The second kid looked a lot like . . . Sure! It was Leslie! A friend of hers must have snapped the picture. The way that Taffy’s sweatshirt showed right through Leslie’s arm was the dead giveaway.

  These were probably all double exposures. Mike nodded as he studied the other two prints again. Now that he knew what Leslie was trying to do, it was clear. The picture of Bud was a double exposure. Leslie must have propped the camera on a tripod across the street and taken Bud’s picture. Then he had snapped the one of her as she stood behind the car in the showroom, leaning on it. The river picture was the same. The kid in the tree was Leslie. She’d had someone take her picture up there. Then she had taken a picture of Gary jumping in the river and double-exposed it. One of these days, when they got back to the Cities, he’d have to teach her all about trick photography. They could work out some multiple exposures with all sorts of subjects.

  Mike scooped up the prints and threw them in the wash. He was tired and his head was killing him. He knew he hadn’t left Leslie’s pictures in the fixer long enough, but he’d print them again tomorrow. They’d spend the weekend here and then they’d see about moving back to the Cities on Monday. He’d hire someone to do all the packing. Two more nights in this monstrous old house and they’d be free of it forever.

  “Mother’s in bed, resting.” Leslie looked up as Mike came into the room. “This series is wonderful, Mike! Mom thinks so, too. It’s the best thing you’ve ever done!”

  Mike smiled down at her. “I like your pictures, too, honey. I developed your film, but I only made three prints tonight. I’ve got a book on trick photography somewhere and we can go over it together. I’ll teach you all about multiple exposures.”

  Leslie looked puzzled. She was about to ask Mike what he meant when he put his hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m really worried about your mother, Leslie. She’s just too wrapped up in this house. I talked to a psychiatrist yesterday and he thinks your mother needs some professional help. He recommended that we sell this house and move back to the Cities. We’d buy a really nice house there and you could go back to your old school. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  A psychiatrist? Leslie’s mouth dropped open in shock. Psychiatrists were for crazy people. Everything Mrs. Schmidt had said came back to her in a rush. A psychiatrist would lock Mother up and then they’d take her to a foster home. Mike had never formally adopted her. It was just easier for Mom if she used his last name. She couldn’t let Mike do anything to take them away from Christopher’s house. It was the only place they were safe!

  Leslie was so quiet; it made him nervous. She was fingering that old key around her neck, staring down at the floor. After a long moment she looked up at him again.

  “Did you tell Mother yet?”

  Mike winced. “No. It’s going to be hard, Leslie. I know your mother’s going to be terribly upset, but we have to get her away from this house. I guess I’d better go up and tell her right now. The longer I wait, the worse it’s going to be.”

  “No, you can’t do that.” Leslie’s voice was strong and Mike looked at her, puzzled.

  “Let me talk to her first, Mike. She’ll understand it better if I prepare her for it. Then you can tell her. You just rest here on the sofa and I’ll take care of it. I’ll tell her we’re just thinking about making a change. Then you can fill her in on the details.”

  “Well, maybe, if you think that’s best.” Mike gave her a smile. “You and your mom can talk to each other easily these days. And you understand it’ll all be much better this way, right, kid? Call me if you need any help, honey, and I’ll come up right away.”

  “I won’t need any help.” Leslie gave him a composed smile. Then she turned and walked up the stairs.

  Mike stretched out on the couch and sighed. She had taken the news like a little trooper. If anyone could convince Karen to move, it would be Leslie. The poor kid had been through a real ordeal since they’d moved here, but he’d make it up to her the minute they got settled in the Cities. Everything would be fine, once they left this house.

  “You know we can’t leave here!” Karen was panic-stricken and Leslie patted her hand gently. Of course they couldn’t leave. She knew that. Christopher would just have to stop Mike.

  Leslie gripped the key tightly. She wasn’t afraid with Christopher as her friend. Now she had to convince Mother to do everything just as Christopher said.

  “It’s all right, Mother.” Leslie smiled serenely. “I know what to do, but you’ll have to help me. If you don’t help, we’ll lose this house. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

  “No!” Karen’s voice was anguished. “I can’t leave this house! I won’t!”

  “That’s right, Mother.” Leslie nodded. “Then you’ll do what I say so we can stay here?” She watched her mother’s face carefully.

  “Yes,” Karen agreed quickly. “Anything you say! Just don’t let Mike take my house away!”

  Leslie leaned down and kissed her mother gently. She was sure now. Mother would do her part. She’d do anything to stay here, where they belonged.

  “Just rest now, Mother,” Leslie told her firmly. “I’ll come and get you when it’s time.”

  Leslie stopped at the head of the stairs and clutched her key. Everything was very clear as the pleasant diz
zy feeling came. She blinked several times and drew in her breath. Christopher was here and he would take care of Mike. And this time Christopher would stay with her. Very soon now they would be together forever.

  She held the key as she moved across the parlor to the sofa. Mike was sleeping and she shook him gently. She knew exactly what to do now.

  “Mike? I need you. Mother is very upset about moving.”

  “Huh?” He sat up and blinked. “What is it, Leslie? What can I do?”

  “She’s upset about moving,” Leslie repeated carefully. “I think she needs something to calm her down. Do we have anything to drink? I thought maybe some brandy would help.”

  “Oh, God!” Mike groaned and blinked groggily. “I don’t have a thing, Leslie. You know I swore off drinking, and there isn’t a drop in the house. What time is it?” He glanced at his watch. “The liquor store’s closed. Do you think I should call Rob to bring something over?”

  “No. Don’t call anyone. That would make everything worse.”

  She stepped closer and took Mike’s hand. “I know where there’s some homemade wine, Mike. Maybe that would do. I found it when we first moved here, but I kept it a secret.”

  “Where?” Mike got to his feet. “Get it, Leslie. Hurry up. Your mother shouldn’t be left alone.”

  “It’s down in the root cellar, but it’s too heavy for me to lift.” She made her face frown. “It’s in a big jug, Mike, and I’m scared to go down there in the dark. Maybe it’s not such a good idea, after all.”

  “I’ll get it.” Mike stood up. Poor Leslie was really upset. Her eyes were huge and black in her white face. “Just show me where it is and I’ll carry it up. You don’t have to go down there, honey. I’ll take care of it.”

  It was light out, a nearly full moon shining in cold blue as they picked their way across the dewy lawn. Mike stopped short when he saw the root cellar.