Deception

by Carolyn Haines

  Connor’s thoughts whirled chaotically. Who was responsible for trying to hurt her? There had been a knife or something sharp on the steps. A booby trap. And her girth had been cut. Who?

  She tossed on the bed. Renata? She didn’t want to believe that the young girl was capable of such a thing, but if it was her, it only showed how desperate she was to protect herself from the loss of her father. It was desperation, not wickedness—wasn’t it?

  And the woman standing at the end of the bed? Connor sat up, exhausted by her own inability to lie still. Who was the woman she’d seen? Had someone else really been in the house? God, even as she tried to think about it she doubted what her own eyes had seen. Everyone was so determined to make her believe that she couldn’t have Clay that maybe she was seeing things to make herself believe she should leave Alabama. It was a crazy thought, but not any crazier than what was happening around her every day. She had to talk to someone, someone she trusted. Even if that someone was furious with her at the moment. She dialed Elvie Adams’ number. She and the Baldwin County horse trainer had shared a couple of rides and some great conversations. But Elvie’s telephone rang without an answer.

  It was still a respectable time of evening, just a bit after nine. Her hand hesitated on the buttons, but she dialed Malcolm Brian’s listed number.

  “Hello.”

  The sweet voice, soft and delicate, had to be Richard’s mother, the incredible Sugar, or Shu-gah, as Richard pronounced it.

  “Mrs. Brian, this is Connor Tremaine. Is Richard in?”

  “You’re that woman who works for Clay Sumner, aren’t you?” Connor didn’t know whether to smile at the audacity of the question or take offense at the tone. “Yes, I’m that woman. “

  “Richard isn’t here.”

  Connor had the feel that even if he was, Sugar wasn’t going to tell her so.

  “Would you ask him to call me before he leaves?”

  “He’s already gone. He took an earlier flight this afternoon. He was very distressed after he came back from Oaklawn. Practically snapped my head off in front of Mrs. Maxwell. Richard never displayed that rude type of behavior until he went out to that godforsaken state. His manners have deteriorated and he’s ruined himself there.” She as much as added, “I hope you’re happy.”

  “I’ll call him out there. Thank you.” Connor hung up fast. Based on that one snippet of conversation, Connor understood a lot better why Richard was always complaining about Alabama. No one could come home to that and not feel abused.

  Even as she replaced the receiver, she was smiling. She’d call Richard in a few days, after his temper had cooled. Then they’d be friends again. No real damage had been done. She was lucky to have someone who worried about her the way Richard did. Very lucky.

  Still dressed, Connor eased back down in the bed. She’d try to doze off, but if she couldn’t, maybe a walk would do the trick. She liked walking at night, especially around Oaklawn, where the stars were so bright.

  And on the off-chance that someone was wandering around the orchard or the edge of the woods, Connor intended to catch them. Maybe she couldn’t force the truth out of Renata, but she’d have no compunction about twisting a few adult arms and wringing out a few answers. Clinging to that dim plan of action, Connor drifted off to sleep.

  Uncertain what woke her, Connor blinked into full consciousness. The room was dark, the window only a duller black than the rest of the room. Thunder rumbled a warning. A weak flash of lightning illuminated the room for a moment, and Connor automatically tensed. She expected to see someone in her room.

  In the burst of uneven light, there was no one in evidence.

  Even so, Connor felt her skin creeping along in legions of goosebumps. She was spooked, and she didn’t know why.

  It took her a moment to realize she was still fully dressed, her slacks and shirt wrinkled. In her disoriented state she couldn’t remember going to bed, but sleep had been fraught with fragments of dreams, moments of tension and danger. Now that she was awake, alone in her wing of the house on a stormy night, she felt as if all her nightmares were real.

  Reaching out to snap on the bedside light, she heard the click of the switch with no results. “Damn,” she whispered. The electricity was out. If there had been a prayer of going back to sleep, it was gone now. She swung her legs off the bed and sat up. Somewhere she’d put a flashlight. Now, where? She went over it in her mind, trying to remember the last place she’d seen one. On the small bookcase to the right of the fireplace. In her socks she drifted across the room.

  The house was incredibly silent, as if it was holding its breath. It was possibly the storm outside, waiting to attack with real force, that gave the air a charged sensation. Connor only knew that she felt as if every hair on her body was tingling.

  Since she knew she’d never go back to sleep, she decided to go down to the barn and check the horses. Storms sometimes made them restless, and her own anxiety would be soothed by knowing they were okay.

  Connor’s hand found the flashlight on the bookcase. She checked the beam against the wall. The batteries were fresh, putting out a good, strong circle of light. Outside, thunder rumbled. Slipping into her loafers, she hurried to the door. Just for good measure, she checked the light switch by the door. There was a click, and nothing. The power was definitely out.

  Lightning had probably popped a substation in Mobile. Willene said the power often went off out in the country, and it wasn’t a high-priority area for repairs. The more populated areas came first. It might be hours before electricity was returned. That thought made Connor feel even more unnerved.

  Making sure to lock her door behind her, she moved carefully down the stairs. The circle of the flashlight bounced ahead of her, step by step. Even with shoes on, she didn’t want to run the risk of stepping on something on the stairs.

  Thunder rumbled, louder this time, and Connor had the feeling that the house had been gripped by an enormous savage dog and lightly shaken. A taste of what was to come.

  In the total darkness, nothing was familiar. The hallway stretched forever, and the eyes of the Sumner family portraits followed her as she stepped carefully down the hall. Even her own reflection in the mirrors wasn’t to be trusted. There were times when Connor looked up, and for a split second, the woman who looked back wasn’t her. Or someone else stood slightly behind her. An overactive imagination at work, to be certain, but Connor couldn’t help it that her skin puckered and tensed with each step. She was afraid, more afraid than she’d ever been in her life, and she didn’t have any idea of what.

  At the point where the hall to her stairs intersected the main hall, Connor hesitated. The back door was to her left, the stairway to the children’s room to the right, and straight ahead was the strange garden room that Talla had created.

  The door was ajar.

  Richard had said that Clay never went in there. No one had gone in that room except Talla and her associates. But Talla was dead, so who’d left the door slightly open? It had been closed when Connor had gone up to bed, after the children.

  She stood in the middle of the intersection. Whoever was in that room, it was nothing to her. Except if someone was in the house uninvited, they might harm the children.

  She stepped forward, across the hall and toward the open door. She kept the flashlight trained on the ten-inch opening.

  When her hand was on the doorknob, Connor killed the flashlight. Without disturbing the door, she eased inside. The small hallway made her start. She’d forgotten about the mirrors. Damn Talla and her narcisscism! With the power out, there wasn’t much to see in the mirrors, but there was enough light to reflect movement up and down the hallway—enough to scare the hell out of Connor.

  She slipped out of her shoes and walked forward in her bare feet. The skylight gave the barest hint of illumination. Connor had the sense that the sky was thick with turbulance. She strained her eyes in the darkness, alert for any movement, careful not to make a sound.

>   Someone else was in the room; Connor knew it as well as she knew her own name.

  Renata’s childish whisper slipped around the room. “She’ll think it’s me for sure. She already suspects me. It’ll really scare her.”

  There was a silence as Connor listened for a response. Who was Renata talking to? It sounded as if Renata was near the small pool, behind the curtain of plants that grew in profusion.

  There was the child’s soft giggle. “That would be fun, don’t you think? Hilla, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

  Holding her breath, Connor waited for a reply. Listening to the child talk so animatedly in the dark room, Connor caught a whiff of real madness.

  “She doesn’t believe you’re real.” Renata giggled. “But you’re so much nicer than she is. I can’t believe you’re related.”

  Connor tried to listen closer. It broke her heart to hear the little girl carrying on with her make-believe friend, the ghost of someone long dead. She was torn between going to Renata and trying to comfort her, and sneaking away, never letting the little girl know she’d been overheard.

  Renata’s voice had taken on a sad note. “Tell me again about how you loved him. I can’t believe there was ever anything so wonderful. Mama and Daddy didn’t love each other. They hated each other.” Renata’s voice grew hard. “I tried not to let Danny know what was going on, but he found out. He cried at night.”

  Connor knew she had to go forward. She’d never heard a child in so much torment. Horses might have built a bridge to Renata, but now she needed professional help—a lot more than Connor could supply. Listening to Renata was like reaching a hand into a dark box full of poisonous snakes. She was sure to get bitten, and she didn’t know how to help.

  The whisper of something strange came to Connor’s ear. Not exactly a voice, not a noise … what was it? No matter how she strained, she couldn’t make it out.

  “Are you certain you have to hurt her like that?” A note of worry had crept into Renata’s voice. “You said she’d leave without being hurt. I don’t really hate Connor, I just want her to leave.”

  Those words galvanized Connor. She stepped forward. “Renata!”

  There was a scramble, a muffled cry, then a splash near the pool. In the darkness Connor couldn’t be certain what had happened.

  “Renata!” Connor called out. She hit the switch to the flashlight and pointed the beam toward the pool. In the wildly ricocheting light off the surface of the water, Connor saw something dark bobbing and thrashing.

  “Renata!” She ran forward. With a leap she was in it, chest deep, struggling toward the small body with the dark curls floating out beside the head, arms flailing uselessly.

  “Renata!” Connor breathed her name as she pulled the little girl against her chest and lunged back to the side of the pool. The water seemed to hold her in place as she carried the fighting child.

  Pushing Renata up on the side, Connor hopped after her, leaving her loafers in the bottom of the pool. She was unprepared when the child struck her fully in the face. Connor’s reaction was lightning fast. She rolled away from Renata and grasped the flashlight where she’d dropped it. She turned it on and looked quickly around the room. They were alone, just the two of them. For one eerie moment she’d thought she saw a figure hiding in the plants, but there was no one else in the garden room. She brought the light to Renata’s face and took a sharp breath. The child was looking at her with terror.

  “Connor,” Renata’s voice was strangled, “why did you try to drown me?”

  “I pulled you out.” Connor couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “You knocked me into the pool and tried to drown me.” Hysteria crept around the edges of Renata’s voice. “She said you would. Hilla said you would hurt me if I got in your way.”

  “Renata, I saw you floating and pulled you out.”

  “Liar!” Reanta stared directly at Connor. “You want me and Danny dead, out of your way. So you can have Daddy all to yourself.”

  “That’s not true, Renata.” Connor leaned back on her heels. “I’d never hurt you or your brother. I pulled you out of the pool. You could have drowned. I can’t believe Clay hasn’t taught you to swim.”

  “Even if you drowned me, I wouldn’t die. People don’t always die.” Renata looked over Connor’s shoulder. She smiled into the darkness as if she’d just seen someone she knew. “Hilla told me all about it. The smart ones. The ones who have things to finish here before they can rest can come back.”

  Despite herself, Connor felt her skin tingle. There was a distant look in Renata’s eyes. “That’s not true, Renata. The dead don’t come back.”

  “I felt your hands. On my arms. See?” Renata coughed as she sat up. She pulled the dripping sleeves of her nightgown back. There were red splotches on both arms.

  “I didn’t touch you, except to get you out.” Connor stood up. “Let’s get you into something dry before you die of pneumonia.”

  “Hilla said that no one would ever love me or Danny except her. Why? Why is that?” Renata’s voice rose. “Why is it that no one can love us?”

  Connor grabbed her and pulled her against her wet, cold body. She felt the little girl struggling, trying to beat her with her arms. Trying to bite. Connor held firm. She held on as if the child’s life depended on it. At that moment, the storm struck with a new ferocity. Rain pummeled the skylight.

  Connor gathered Renata in her arms and started out of the room.

  “I hate you,” Renata said weakly. “You want Daddy. That’s all you’ve ever wanted. Hilla is so disappointed in you.”

  “Your father loves you dearly,” Connor said. Renata weighed more than she thought, and she was still struggling. She was almost too much for Connor.

  They’d made it, lurching and staggering, to the short hallway. Connor hated this part of the room. Her bare foot stepped into a cold puddle of water and she stopped. The puddle was out of place. Water shouldn’t have been by the doorway. That area had been completely dry when Connor had gone in.

  “Shit!” Connor whispered, and Renata stilled in her arms.

  Lightning burst over the house, striking somewhere nearby. In the flash of the bolt, Connor looked straight into the mirrors. She saw her reflection, holding Renata in her arms. Behind her was a woman in a white nightgown. The material was wet, and it was clinging to her slender, curved body. Long auburn hair was matted around her shoulders, and her dark eyes looked directly into Connor’s.

  The woman’s brown eyes glittered in a white-hot burst of lightning. Eyes that held murder—and a broad stroke of madness. As the lightning flickered into blackness, the woman smiled. The mirror went dark.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “There, there,” Willene whispered as she took Renata in her arms. Her hands briskly rubbed Renata’s curls with one of the pink towels she’d brought into the kitchen.

  Connor backed against the gas stove which Willene had turned on in an effort to hurriedly heat the room. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably from the fright she’d had, but her main concern was Renata. In the light of the kerosene lantern that Willene had lit, the child was so pale she appeared lifeless. Her brown eyes were enormous but unseeing. “Renata?” Connor dropped down on one knee in front of the child. The girl’s brown gaze never wavered, though her pupils were completely dilated. Once in the kitchen, she’d slipped into what seemed to be a waking coma. Connor picked up her cold hand. The slightly curled fingers gave no sign of life. “Renata, can you hear me?”

  Connor’s gaze met Willene’s across Renata’s head. Fear arced between them.

  “Let me get the child into some dry clothes and then I’ll heat up some soup for her,” Willene said.

  Connor didn’t reply. She shifted Renata into her own arms so that Willene could get the clothes. The cook’s hands clung to Renata’s shoulders. “Go ahead,” Connor said. “I’ll hold her.”

  “Rub her hard with that old rough towel,” Willene directed. “We have to
get the blood flowing.”

  “Okay.” Connor worked the towel across Renata’s white legs. Her own fear pumped through her as icy as Renata’s flesh. The child had slipped into shock.

  Big flashlight in hand, Willene disappeared out the kitchen door. Connor heard her fast, heavy tread going down the hall and up the stairs to Renata’s room. Alone at last with the young girl, Connor shifted her so that she could look into her face.

  “Renata, was there really someone else in that room with you?” The mirror image of the woman made Connor’s entire body clench. In the split second that she’d seen the woman, she appeared real, but Connor couldn’t swear to it. It could have been a trick of the light—or of those damn mirrors and her imagination. But if someone else was in the house, someone who’d pushed Renata into the pool … fear made her stomach knot again.

  “Renata!” Connor gave her a gentle shake. “Who were you with?”

  The child’s gaze was fixed on a corner of the room.

  Connor’s fear tripled. If she didn’t find a way to reach out to the child, Renata might break contact with the world. She already looked more dead than alive.

  “Renata, did Hilla push you into the pool?”

  For an instant, Connor thought she saw a spark of recognition in Renata’s eyes, but it was so brief that she couldn’t be certain. The dead glaze slipped back in place, if it had ever disappeared.

  “Tell me about your friend, Renata. How did she get into this house?”

  Connor bit her lip in frustration. Nothing she was saying seemed to reach the child. Maybe she could shock her into a response.

  “Renata!” She raised her voice sharply. “Look at me, Renata!”

  “Connor Tremaine, stop that this instant!” The kitchen door flew open and an outraged Willene stepped into the room. Clothes dropped from her hands to the floor as she raised the flashlight in an aggressive stance, as if she meant to defend Renata.