Trick or Treat

by Richie Tankersley Cusick

  “But how do you know that?” Conor squeezed her hands. “How can you be sure? He threatened her and —”

  “He just didn’t want her going out with Blake, that’s all. Any more than Blake wanted her going back to him. It just really infuriated him that Blake had her now — they’d always been such rivals — girls and basketball and honors and scholarships —” She shook her head, pressing her hands to her temples.

  “So Dennis was pretty possessive of Elizabeth?”

  Wynn gave a reluctant nod.

  “And had a bad temper.”

  A pause. Another nod.

  “So they could have had an argument. He could have lost his head and done something violent.”

  Wynn looked miserably at the floor. “I … guess so. But couldn’t anyone have done that? I mean, couldn’t he have found out she’d been killed and then killed himself? Or couldn’t it have been a coincidence that his car went off the bridge and he died? Or couldn’t the same person who killed Elizabeth have killed him, too?”

  Conor and Martha exchanged looks.

  “Wynn,” Martha said gently, “anything is possible, but those are pretty farfetched —”

  “Not any more farfetched than calling Dennis a murderer.” Wynn’s voice was desperate now, and she met Conor’s eyes at last. “Don’t you see I have to try to remember for Dennis’s sake? After all the doctors I went to, trying to jar my memory, and then I figured this house was out of my life forever, and I’d never remember again. But then you came here — and Martha’s so much like Elizabeth — and now the house is back in my life again — and it’s all so strange and scary — like this was meant to be — like Elizabeth and Dennis did this on purpose ’cause they want me to help them prove what really happened….” She trailed off, looking pleadingly into Conor’s eyes. “It … sounds so silly….”

  “No.” Conor released her hands, a reassuring smile at the corners of his lips. Reassuring and worried, Martha thought … he looks so tired…. “No, it isn’t silly,” Conor said again. “We’ll help you.”

  The gratitude on Wynn’s face was heartrending. Conor stood and ran one hand absently through his hair. “I’ll make us lunch. We can talk some more downstairs.”

  After much tugging and pulling Wynn finally managed to help Martha get dressed, and they met down in the kitchen where Conor was serving up soup and sandwiches. At first Wynn only picked at her food, but as Conor drew her out about school and her job at the store, Martha could see her beginning to relax a little. And when he finally did steer the talk back to the matter at hand, Martha couldn’t help but marvel at his skillful subtlety. He stood at the kitchen window, looking out at the dismal weather, and gave a loud sigh.

  “Well, if this rain doesn’t get any worse, I might be able to get more of those shutters fixed today. Oh, and I boarded up that panel in your closet, too, Martha.”

  “I thought you did that be —” Martha started without thinking, then caught the warning glance Conor tossed back over his shoulder.

  Wynn frowned, twirling her spoon idly in her soup.

  “That’s probably what caused the drafts,” Conor went on. “Made it so cold in that room and kept blowing the door open.”

  “Did you know that, Wynn?” Martha picked up casually. “That there’s a secret door inside the closet in my old room?”

  Wynn looked puzzled for a moment, as if she’d suddenly awoken in a room full of strangers. And then a light slowly began to dawn in her eyes. “Of course I know about it … only I hadn’t thought about it all this time. There’re supposed to be lots of secret tunnels and things in the house — Elizabeth’s father said he’d heard stories about them since he was a little boy, but he only knew about a few.”

  Martha felt her pulse quicken, but Conor remained maddeningly calm. “Do you know where they are?”

  For a split second Wynn looked blank, but then she nodded slowly. “We weren’t allowed to use them — they were so old and Mr. Bedford was afraid we’d get hurt. In fact, he boarded up the one in Elizabeth’s room, but —”

  “But what?”

  She looked almost embarrassed. “Elizabeth tore it down. So Dennis could use it.”

  “No fool, Dennis,” Conor murmured. Louder he said, “Was Dennis the only other one who knew about the passages?”

  Wynn glanced away uncomfortably. “And … Blake.”

  “Blake!” Martha exclaimed.

  “Yes … when he and Elizabeth started going out, she told me she’d told him about them.”

  “You’re sure about that,” Conor said.

  “That’s what she said,” Wynn insisted. “There was one … that went from the cellar to the study … and one from the attic to the pantry.”

  “Were there any that led outside?”

  Again Wynn looked blank. “I don’t know.”

  “Another way someone could get into the house?”

  Wynn shook her head, close to tears. “I don’t know —”

  Conor put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Take it easy. You’re doing fine.”

  “I’m not,” Wynn said hopelessly. “Oh, if I could only —”

  “Okay,” Conor said soothingly, “don’t try so hard. Just relax.” His voice was lulling … hypnotic…. “Tomorrow’s Halloween … but let’s go back. Halloween night a year ago. Can you see it? Is it too painful?”

  “I … I don’t think so…. I’ll try….” Wynn glanced nervously at Martha, who nodded encouragement, then she stared down at the table, her voice hesitant and shaking. “We all went to the party at school that night. Elizabeth was really mad ’cause she’d gotten another phone call. She said she’d had it with Dennis and his immature attitude and she was gonna do what she wanted. Blake was mad, too — hoping Dennis would be there so he could let him have it once and for all. But none of them were really taking it seriously — they weren’t scared or anything. They just wanted to party and have a good time.”

  “So you were all there?”

  “Yes — you don’t really have to have a date or anything — but Blake and Elizabeth kind of made themselves scarce.”

  Martha tried to ignore the implication as Wynn shot her an apologetic look.

  “We were supposed to unmask at midnight,” Wynn went on.

  “Wait a minute —” Conor stopped her. “It was a costume party?”

  “Yes. They have one every year.”

  Conor leaned back against the counter, crossing his legs. “So did anybody actually see Dennis come in? Did they recognize him?”

  Wynn nodded. “Yes. I did. He came up to me and asked if Elizabeth was there, and I said yes, that she was with Blake.”

  “What did he say to that?”

  “Not much, just looked really mad about it. He went off into the crowd and I didn’t see him again for a while. Then Elizabeth and Blake had a fight.”

  “About what? Dennis?”

  Wynn thought a moment. “I’m not sure — but Greg came up to me at the refreshment table and said Blake had stormed out of the gym.”

  “Alone?”

  Wynn nodded. “We weren’t supposed to be wandering around outside, so Greg went to look for him. He was gone pretty long — in the meantime I went to find Elizabeth, and I couldn’t find her, either.”

  “Did she leave, too?”

  “It was so dark in there — so many people — everyone had costumes on and so many of them looked alike. I looked and looked for her a long time, but I couldn’t find her.”

  “What’d you do then?”

  “I didn’t know what to do. I was starting to get really scared. I finally went outside to find Greg — and that’s when I saw them.”

  “Who?”

  “Elizabeth and Dennis. In Dennis’s car. They were pulling out of the parking lot, and I yelled at them, and Elizabeth leaned out the window and said they were only going to her house to talk and not to tell Blake ’cause he’d be mad. She said they needed to get something straight — and t
hen they’d be right back.”

  “So … you covered for her.”

  Wynn looked miserable. “I lied to Greg. I told him Elizabeth had gotten sick and we were going to my house for a while —”

  “And he never suspected?”

  Wynn shook her head slowly. “The house was close by, and he was still trying to find Blake — and he was supposed to be chaperoning, too. Some of the guys got into a fight with the band, and there was a big commotion — so he wasn’t really thinking too much about Elizabeth and me.”

  “Then you went home.”

  Wynn closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “My folks were out that night, so I hung around for a while — then I just went back to school and sat in Greg’s car and waited for Elizabeth to come back.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “About an hour, I guess, I’m not sure.” She raised her eyes, pressed a hand to her forehead. “And then I saw Blake drive up in his car…. He looked … upset … and his clothes were all wet and he just sat there for a long time, like he was thinking.”

  “And Elizabeth still hadn’t come back?”

  “No. Finally Blake got out and went back into the gym and — I just didn’t know what to do. I was really starting to panic by then. When I went in, Greg and Blake were waiting for me — I — I had to tell them the truth then, that she wasn’t really with me — but she’d made me promise —” Her voice faltered. “I was so scared — so scared — suddenly all the stuff we’d laughed at seemed so — so dangerous —”

  “So she’d been gone for more than an hour by then,” Conor said. “And where had Blake been?”

  Wynn looked down at her hands, twisted them in her lap. “He said he’d driven around for a while — then he’d just gotten out of his car and walked. When he found out I’d let Elizabeth go like that, he was furious — I’ve never seen him so mad — he —” She covered her face with her hands and began to cry. “Don’t you understand now how awful this is? I’m the one who saw them leave! I’m the one who saw them, and I didn’t do anything!”

  “But you didn’t know.” Martha tried to comfort her. “You couldn’t have known —”

  “But she trusted me! She asked me to cover for her while she left with Dennis — she trusted me, and I could have stopped her, and then she died!”

  For a long while there was only the sound of Wynn’s sobs … the gloomy hiss of rain down the window … the whine of wind around the eaves…. Conor looked like a statue, his angular face caught in the soft glow of the kitchen light. He seemed to pull his thoughts together with an effort.

  “What happened when you got here?” he asked then. “When you got here to the house?”

  The sobs faded…. From behind her hands Wynn’s voice was dull with pain. “It took us a long time to get here. Blake was driving and we got a flat tire. The boys were yelling at each other — Blake was yelling at me —”

  “So you’re finally at the house now.” Conor reached down and gently raised Wynn from her chair. “So what do you do now?”

  Wynn hung back, her face ashen. Martha took one of her hands, and gave her an encouraging smile.

  “It’s all right. We’ll go through it with you. It can’t hurt you with us here, you know that.”

  Conor nodded; Martha could tell it was Conor who convinced Wynn at last. Wynn went slowly into the front hall. For several moments she stared at the heavy door, then lifted her chin determinedly.

  “It was storming when we got here — Blake jumped out of the car before Greg even had it parked, and he started banging on the door and yelling. But the door was locked, and there was only one light on — back in Elizabeth’s room. He just went crazy, beating and shouting — and Greg was trying to find a way in —” She squeezed her eyes shut, squeezing the vision from the past. “He broke one of the windows on the terrace. He put his hand through the glass and broke it, and we all got inside.”

  Very slowly, almost as if she were drugged, Wynn took a step forward … another … and another … and reached out for the banister.

  “They were yelling at me to stay there — Blake was yelling at me not to go upstairs — ‘Don’t let her go up there’ he kept saying, and Greg was trying to grab me, but I started running — I don’t remember getting from the parlor to the stairs, but I did and … and….”

  “Go on,” Conor said gently. “It’s all right.”

  Wynn started up the staircase, her footsteps wooden and slow. Conor touched Martha on the elbow, and they followed.

  “The light was on, but I couldn’t see anyone,” Wynn whispered. “And I think — I know — I called her name —”

  Martha’s heart felt ready to burst. Every nerve warned her to turn and flee, but Conor’s hand gripped hold of her arm. She looked at him, but his eyes were on Wynn.

  “She didn’t answer me. And it was so quiet — even though Greg and Blake were yelling — calling me to come back — even with them shouting like that, it was just so … so quiet — and I kept saying her name, ‘Elizabeth … Elizabeth,’ but she wouldn’t answer.”

  They had reached the second floor now. Wynn’s hands went nervously to her throat, and Martha wondered if she was going to be sick.

  “Conor, maybe this isn’t such a good idea, maybe we —”

  “Keep still, Martha,” Conor whispered. “And then what happened?” he said more loudly to Wynn.

  “I went into her room,” Wynn said dully. After an uneasy pause, she moved forward until the three of them were squeezed into the door of Elizabeth’s bedroom. Wynn stared ahead and Martha could tell that whatever she saw was horrible.

  “You’re in her room now,” Conor murmured. “What do you see, Wynn?”

  Wynn’s eyes fell at once to the bed, and her face slowly began to drain. “I … she’s lying there … her mouth is open but I can’t hear her screaming … and the room is so red … red and wet … and … she doesn’t look like Elizabeth anymore.”

  Martha’s eyes blurred; she felt Conor’s hand tighten on her arm. His face was drawn, stony. Wynn started to turn back to where they were standing.

  And then her eyes passed over the open closet.

  Martha saw her stiffen and knew at once that something was wrong. Conor must have sensed it even sooner — she felt him turn loose of her as he started across the floor towards Wynn.

  “What is it?” Conor demanded. “What do you see?”

  And Wynn fell back, clutching at him, her eyes wide, her words tumbling out in a helpless sort of babble —

  “The … the dark … it’s so long — it’s so —”

  “What, Wynn, what dark? Did the lights go out that night?”

  “It … it just lasts forever!” She spun around, panicky, her eyes huge with terror. “It just goes on and on — ”

  “How long? How long did the dark last? Wynn — try to —”

  “No!” she cried. “I can’t remember! The dark is so long and I can’t remember!”

  Chapter 16

  “I’m sorry you’re not going,” Martha said. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror and heard Conor coughing from his bed.

  “Don’t tell me you might miss me,” he choked.

  “No, I might need protection.”

  “From Blake Chambers? I thought you didn’t want protection from him.”

  Martha glanced back over her shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me, Conor, it’s not funny.”

  “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

  “Your face isn’t laughing, your voice is laughing.”

  “Then my voice must be in a better mood than the rest of me,” he said wearily.

  “It serves you right, and I don’t feel a bit sorry for you. You should know better than to go around fixing shutters in the cold rain.” Martha stole a glance at him, then adjusted her black shawl over her gypsy costume, trying to hide her cast. “Oh, Conor, what do you think Wynn means about ‘the long dark’?”

  Conor shook his head, tilted it back, trying to breathe
. “For the hundredth time, I don’t know. Wynn can’t remember, and it won’t help to nag her about it.”

  “But it’s Halloween.” Martha looked pleading. “What if Dennis really isn’t dead — what if he comes back tonight and —?” She broke off, bit her hp. “It could be him, you know.”

  “It could be anyone,” Conor said. He flung an arm restlessly across his forehead. “Look, you haven’t gotten any more phone calls, have you?”

  Martha shrugged and shook her head. “No … but that still doesn’t explain what happened that night at school. That wasn’t an accident — but I keep trying to convince myself it was — or that maybe whoever chased me thought I was someone else. But I don’t believe it.” She gave him a wry smile. “And you’re just trying to make me feel better, aren’t you? You’re worried, too.”

  “I’m too sick to be worried.” Conor stared at her, at the desperation in her eyes. “All right, I’m a little worried,” he relented. “So that’s it. I’m going.” He tried to push back the covers, but Martha stopped him.

  “Look at you — you’re so weak you can’t even climb out of bed, much less be my bodyguard.” For the third time that evening she took a really hard look at him, and felt strangely uneasy. His face was like marble, and his eyes had a feverish brightness; his cheekbones jutted sharply beneath his skin, giving his face a ghostly sunkenness. She’d insisted he take his old room again because it was warmer, and then she’d piled blankets on him, but he was still shivering. Martha’s lips moved — her conscience fought a quick battle — and lost. “I can’t stay here, Conor. Please, please understand — I can’t stay in this house tonight, I’m just so scared — ”

  He turned his face from her; she thought his head moved in a nod.

  “Conor — I —” Martha’s eyes filled with tears, and she wiped at them angrily. “Ill be with Blake all evening and then I’ll spend the night at Wynn’s — I’ll leave her number in case you need me —”

  “I won’t need you.”

  Martha looked pleadingly at the back of his head, the damp hair tousled on the pillow. “I can’t, Conor … I just can’t stay —”