The nape of my neck prickled, but I fought the urge to back away. I needed the girls changed and gone.
I turned to face them. “You mustn’t be afraid. If this is the work of a ghost, it will only feed on your fear. We are in the full light of day, and I assume we are all awake.” One girl giggled. “Nothing can hurt you unless you let your imaginations run wild.”
I turned back to the door and grasped the knob again. Let me in, for I am trying to help you. After a moment, the knob turned with a jerk and the door came open. The vestibule was freezing cold, but no phantom figures leapt out of dark corners.
“Go upstairs and change—it might calm you if you keep someone else near at all times.”
Shivering, the girls trooped up the stairs. I followed them to the landing and then stood to wait, feeling like a guard on watch. Something was different, but I could not put a name to it. There was a familiar charge to the air, an energy that lifted the soft hairs on my arms and the back of my neck. And yet I was not exactly frightened. It was more that I was on edge, wondering if I’d missed something obvious.
Hardly knowing why, I walked to the kitchen and opened one of the utensil drawers. Knives glittered in a partitioned wooden tray. I held my hand above each one, as though testing the air. Finally, I carefully grasped a small paring knife and slipped it into my pocket, blade up. Then I returned to the foot of the stairs.
At all other times, the girls would have taken ages to change and primp, but today they were quick, and within minutes were filing back down the stairs. It was time to put my hastily contrived plan into action. I followed them to the doorway before making my announcement. “Girls, you should go on ahead. There’s something I must take care of.”
Alice cocked her head as though confused. “But you’ll have to walk back to town by yourself! Shouldn’t we wait for you?”
Several of the girls frowned. They were eager to get to the picnic and away from the school.
“I was attempting to be discreet,” I said, “but if you must know, my monthly has come upon me early. I really must stay behind for a bit, but I will join you as soon as possible. Now go enjoy yourselves—you deserve it!”
No one wished to argue. They made their way down the steps toward the wagonettes and loaded up quickly. After waving them off, I walked around the school exterior in case Eli had been hiding while the girls were with me. But he was nowhere to be found. I checked my brooch watch. Nearly half past three o’clock—the students would not return for at least two hours. I would wait for Eli in the parlor.
I walked back up the steps to the entrance door, which had closed behind me while I saw the girls on their way. Pulling my sleeve over my hand once more, I put my hand to the knob. Again, it was cold and unyielding. This time I spoke to the ghost aloud, begging him to let me in. After concentrating for several moments, I felt the knob turn. But it moved sluggishly, as if against its will. Finally, the bolt retracted and the door swung open slowly.
On the other side stood Dr. Stewart.
Chapter 23
WHEN I STUMBLED BACKWARD, he grabbed my arm. I screamed, but there was no one to hear me. He jerked me into the building and shut the door. The vestibule was so cold our breath steamed in the air. The doctor gripped me with both hands, pinning me against the door. His face was damp with sweat, but his eyes were icy.
“Don’t struggle, Miss McClure.”
“You are hurting me!” I fought him, trying to reach for the knife in my pocket, but he held my arms firm.
“If you would only be still, I could explain myself.”
My arms ached—he was much too strong for me. “Eli Sevenstar is meeting me here—he’ll not let you hurt me.”
He shook his head, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Mr. Sevenstar is not coming.”
“Yes, he is—” I broke off as the realization dawned. “You sent the telegram.”
“I did. Clever, wasn’t it? I saw how you two looked at each other at Foster’s store. If memory serves, you spent an unladylike amount of time alone with him at the Bell Christmas party too.”
All the blood in my body seemed to drain to my toes. My knees buckled, but he forced me upright against the wall. His eyes were terrifyingly blue.
I swallowed hard. “Are you going to kill me?”
“It’s tempting, for I’m certain everyone would blame your disappearance on Mr. Sevenstar.” He looked away, as though considering the options. “But I’d rather not. I mean to give you a choice.”
“What choice?”
“You took something of mine. I want it back.”
“That’s all?”
“And you must leave here. Today. As soon as the letter is in my hand.”
I stared at him. “What did you do to Eli?”
His eyes widened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now stop being a fool. I’ve worked too hard to let a nobody like you take it all away from me.” He squeezed my arms even tighter. “I need that letter.”
I gasped at the pain. “All right. It’s upstairs.”
“I’ll follow you.” He released my right arm and shoved his hand against my neck. “But I need you to stay calm. Any sudden moves and I’ll have no choice but to hurt you.”
A memory came to me of Fannie’s screams as he shoved her shoulder into place. He knew the human body intimately—if he could heal it, he also knew how to harm it. How could I stop him? Cale’s spirit had no power past the first floor. It was up to me. But I couldn’t bear the thought of actually using the knife in my pocket—the very idea of the blade sinking into the doctor’s flesh made my stomach lurch.
So I merely nodded.
He smiled and removed his hand from my neck, gesturing for me to walk before him in a parody of gentlemanly grace. I stumbled toward the staircase.
When we reached the first landing, a distant explosion made us both jump.
The doctor jerked me around to face him. “What was that?”
Cale, please help me. I could hear water gushing—so much that it had to be from more than one pipe. “Sounded like it came from the water closet.”
“Keep walking.”
The explosions continued with each step I took, sounding from as far away as the kitchen. The dank odor of stagnant water wafted by my nostrils. At this rate, the burst pipes would flood the floor by the time I went back downstairs. If I went back downstairs. I put my hand lightly on the knife in my pocket, praying for the courage to use it.
The doctor pressed against my shoulder. “Hurry.”
We’d reached the second floor. I went to my door and opened it, stepping inside quickly with the thought of slamming the door on him. But he shouldered his way through, pushing me onto my haunches.
“This is my last warning. Stop your foolishness and get the letter.”
Stifling a sob, I crawled over to the bed. Careful to keep my back to him, I slipped my left hand under the mattress. I touched the folded note first, then the heavy paper of Ella’s letter. I pulled the letter out. At the same time, I reached with my right hand for the knife in my pocket. I needed to rush at him, to throw him off balance. But the best I could do was push myself to my feet and thrust the knife toward his face.
He stepped back, his mouth widening into a grin. “Well, look what you’ve been hiding.”
“If I give you the letter, you’ll just kill me!”
He nodded slowly. “Probably.”
“But if you leave now, I won’t hurt you.”
He laughed. Then he lifted a hand and crooked his fingers, beckoning. “Come on, then. Do your worst.”
Tears welled in my eyes. I had to do something. He was an animal, a crazed beast that needed to be put down. If I could wound him, I’d have the chance to run. With a cry of rage, I lashed out with the knife.
I was too slow. He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I let go the knife. Keeping his eyes on me, he reached down to pick it up. Then he ripped the letter from my left hand. After quickly scanning it, he refolded th
e paper and placed it and the knife in his own pocket.
In one breath, we were both completely still, staring at each other. In the next, his hand was in the air.
I heard as well as felt the crack of his knuckles on my head. Before I could scream, before I could take a breath, I fell hard against the wall and sank into darkness.
Chapter 24
I WOKE TO THE CHILL of cold water soaking my skirt up to my thighs. Opening one eye, I saw the shadow of the doctor’s head in a blinding flash of sunlight. His hands were gripped under my arms, and my heels dragged along gravelly mud. He’d carried me to the river—slung over his back, I thought vaguely—and was now pulling me into the water.
Everyone was at the picnic. Not a soul knew I was about to die.
I kicked and scratched with all my strength, which wasn’t much. He only pulled me deeper.
“You murdering bastard,” I spluttered, then winced at the searing pain in my head.
He said nothing.
I tried to scream but could only squeeze a scratchy yelp from my throat.
He stopped and looked at me, and for a moment I thought there might be remorse in his eyes. Then his jaw hardened.
I took a deep breath before he pushed me under, releasing the air in slow bursts as he held me down. I kicked at his legs, but he stood firm. Through the rippled murk of the water, he looked fierce and terrible, grimacing with effort. My head and chest felt so tight I had to stop fighting—it took all my concentration to keep my eyes open and upon him. I would die looking at him. He would never forget my eyes. I prayed the sight of my face would live in his nightmares for the rest of his life.
The pressure in my lungs was like a scream begging me to breathe.
I writhed, fighting the urge. A shadow came over my left side, and I turned to see a face. A boy with black hair. His eyes widened. He reached out to me, his hand cold as ice on my skin.
I wanted to laugh.
Death was a boy with dark eyes.
I opened my mouth, swallowing the water.
He saw so much in that moment.
The past came to him first. Ella’s pale face in the water—the doctor’s hands pushing her down. He heard his own scream as her limp body floated away. A jagged rock in the doctor’s hand sliced toward him like an executioner’s blade. He stumbled, rage flowing hot through his veins. The darkness came anyway.
He focused on the present, anger flaring again as he watched this girl struggle. At least she had a chance to fight—unlike Ella—but it wasn’t enough. Hadn’t she asked for his help? Well, he would give that and more. When he saw her mouth open in surprise, he made his move.
He saw through her eyes. The doctor’s face above his, blurred as though seen through poorly blown glass. Her body was heavy, weak, but his anger flooded through her veins, rousing it to life. He kicked again and again. Finally, he found the vulnerable spot. The doctor contorted, gasping for breath. He kicked the gut this time, and as the doctor reeled backward, he found his feet.
He slogged through the water to the still-gasping man, using his left hand to jerk the body forward by the collar. His right hand reached into the doctor’s pocket, finding the paring knife. He thrust it against the doctor’s neck. An artery pulsed there, ready to be opened. Ready to bleed for vengeance.
All around them the water boiled with his rage.
The doctor looked up, staring at his face. “Miss McClure, have mercy!”
He spoke, but the voice was not his own. “The girl can’t hear you, Doc.”
The water churned, moving in waves that slapped at the man’s face as it contorted in fear.
“Oh Christ,” moaned the doctor. “Ella?”
“Think again.”
The doctor blinked, and then his eyes widened in recognition. “I didn’t want to kill anyone! I just needed to shut her up. She didn’t feel a thing, I promise. What was I supposed to do when you saw me?” The man was sobbing. “I had to protect myself.”
Drawing the knife back, he tensed his arm to strike at the artery.
“Willemina!” shouted a voice on the riverbank. A crashing of water followed as someone entered the river.
He held his hand in the air, confused by the cry behind him. Then he stepped forward, moving away from the voice, pushing the doctor deeper into the water.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, his voice choked by the churning water. Then his head plunged downward, as though the riverbed dropped beneath him.
His rage spent, Cale sank with the doctor into cold darkness.
Chapter 25
I OPENED ONE EYE TO BLINDING LIGHT and quickly closed it again. My body was being pulled from the water and carried toward the shore. My nose and throat burned, and I could barely breathe for coughing. Someone laid me down in the grass and gently tilted me on my side to cough up the final swallows of river water. My head was splitting, and my chest ached with each heaving breath.
I opened both eyes and saw Eli’s face.
“Am I dead?” I croaked.
“No, thank God!”
He held me tight, squeezing so hard it seemed I might never get my breath back. But I didn’t mind, for he was kissing my forehead, cheek, and finally … my mouth.
“Your lips are so cold,” he murmured, covering them again with his own. When he pulled back, he smiled. “At least they’re not quite so blue anymore.”
I clutched at his sleeve. “I thought you were dead. I thought he got to you.”
He glanced at the river, then back at me. “I was in Atoka, where that blasted telegram was sent—the one I got last year. I knew the sheriff would be after me unless I could prove someone else really sent it.”
“But … surely you could have explained to him.”
He shook his head. “I panicked at the look in Larkin’s eyes. My friend thought I was a liar. I bet you did too when you heard about it. Everyone must have thought I killed Cale.”
I looked down before he could see the confirmation in my eyes.
“It stood to reason that whoever sent it was the real killer—the person who killed my best friend,” he continued. “It was a long shot, but what else could I do? I hoped someone there might remember who sent the telegram to me, ’cause it certainly wasn’t Cale.”
“It was Dr. Stewart,” I said. “I got one from him this morning, saying to meet you.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“How?”
“I went to the source. The postmaster’s assistant didn’t want to help me at first—he acted like he didn’t know what I was talking about. But when I offered him my gold pocket watch, you should have seen how quickly his memory improved. He remembered a tall, fair-haired man with a Northern accent sending a telegram a year ago. But I feared his testimony wouldn’t be enough for the sheriff. I needed more.”
“What got you here?”
“The assistant’s greed. This morning he said the same man arranged to have another telegram sent, and he sold me a copy of the order.” Eli’s eyes flashed with anger. “That doctor killed Cale and Ella, and now he was going after you. I could never—would never—let that happen. I set out for the seminary as quick as I could.”
“But the river—how did you know?”
He looked away, taking a deep breath before he spoke. “I saw the water in the school, from the burst pipes. When I smelled it, I knew where you were.” He shook his head. “It sounds absurd, but I was absolutely certain you were at the river. We ran as fast as we could.”
“We?” I stared at him. “Where’s the doctor?”
He turned toward the river and pulled me up until I sat, leaning against him. I followed his gaze. Someone was in the water, thrashing about—a man whose head bobbed and then disappeared. There was a pause of eerie quiet as the ripples in the water widened and smoothed. Then the head burst through the surface, the mouth taking a great gulp of air. “I can’t see him!” the man in the water shouted. “The water’s too dark. But I’m pretty sure he’s still in there, farthe
r downstream.” He pushed his wet hair back as he turned. “Is she all right?”
I gasped. “Oh my God. Toomey?” My mouth hung open as my mind struggled to form a question, a response, or even a coherent thought. How had my mother’s wretched husband found me? And how had he managed to fall in with Eli Sevenstar?
Eli was frowning at Toomey. “Could he still be alive after all this time?”
I pulled at his sleeve. “Who are you talking about?”
He turned to me. “The doctor. Don’t you remember?”
“I remember him pushing me under the water. He meant to drown me.”
“You were about to stab him. I thought you had stabbed him when he went under, but you’ve got no blood on you.”
I clutched my head, feeling dazed. “What are you talking about?”
But Eli had turned away. I followed his gaze to see Toomey heave himself out of the river, his great bulk dripping. He paused to twist his shirttails, wringing out the water. All I could do was stare as he lumbered toward us.
“He’s gone,” Toomey said simply, groaning as he dropped to the ground near us.
“He’s drowned himself?” Eli asked.
Toomey shrugged. “I don’t think she cut him, for there’s no blood in the water. Looks like he slipped on a drop-off, but I can’t be sure.”
I stared at Toomey before turning to Eli. “What do we do now?”
He thought for a moment. “I should go to the picnic and take Miss Crenshaw aside. Explain to her in private. Then I expect I’ll have to go to the sheriff.”
I nodded slowly, allowing this to sink in. “I should return to the seminary to wait.” I glanced at my stepfather, whose face was blank with confusion. “And Toomey should come with me.”
“You said his name before. How do you know him?” Eli looked back and forth between us. “He called you Willemina, when you were … when you had the knife.…”
“I don’t remember that.” I shook my head, as though the motion might jog my memory. It only sharpened the pain at my temple. “Did I try to stab the doctor? The last thing I saw was him … holding me down, trying to drown me.” Tears burned my eyes as I turned to Eli. “And then you were pulling me out of the water.”
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