Fatal Secrets

by Richie Tankersley Cusick

  “What?” Ryan looked from Winchester to his father and back again. “Are you saying I was drinking?”

  “Shoot, you kids just don’t realize what it can do—”

  “But—but—I don’t even drink and—”

  “Just drop it, Dad, okay?” Winchester sighed. He’d never taken his eyes from the window, and now Ryan grabbed his arm.

  “Do you think I made it all up? Do you think—”

  “We’re just trying to find out what really happened to you. That’s all, little lady, that’s all it is.” Mr. Stone smiled again.

  “But I told you! The guy I was with just drove away and left me—”

  “And you saw Marissa. I remember. She came out of the woods and you ran.” Winchester finally looked at her, and Ryan felt herself redden.

  “That’s what happened. Yes.”

  “We just want to make sure you didn’t have a car out here somewhere,” Mr. Stone said, trying to soothe her. “That you didn’t have yourself a wreck and wandered away and forgot it.”

  Ryan didn’t speak the rest of the way home. As Winchester climbed out to help her down, Ryan pulled out of his grasp.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said stiffly. “Thanks for everything.”

  She tried to slam the door, but he was blocking it.

  “Ryan—wait—”

  “You don’t believe a single thing I told you! You think I was drunk and lost my car!”

  “That’s not true—I don’t think that—”

  “I can’t believe I trusted you! And let me tell you something else—it wasn’t a joke, either, me being left out there—he did it on purpose!”

  Ryan ran for the house, but she could tell before she even got inside that no one was home. Her mind spun in a hundred directions, and she could feel her fears going out of control. What should I do? Call the police? Run away? What’s Charles going to do when he sees me? Why won’t anyone believe me—

  Something stirred on the floor above.

  Ryan froze at the foot of the stairs, her heart racing.

  “Mom?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

  There was no one in her mother’s bedroom. As Ryan peered in fearfully, she saw the curtains billowing against the wall, and she felt weak with relief.

  She walked slowly to Marissa’s room and took a deep, steadying breath.

  The door swung open easily, yet Ryan stood where she was.

  The room was cold and full of shadows. Ryan rubbed the chill from her arms and suddenly noticed something on the bed.

  A package.

  As she frowned and picked it up, she saw that it was wrapped in Christmas paper and that the tag had her name on it. It must be one of the things Charles brought. Mom must have put it in here for me to open in private.…

  Sitting down on the bed, Ryan began unwrapping the small, square box. She lay the paper aside and tried to smooth out the wrinkles. Then she held her breath and lifted the lid.

  And at first she wasn’t sure what she was seeing—the little gold chain lying on shiny black satin—but as she kept staring at it, she realized what it was, that she had seen it so many times before, and that she shouldn’t be seeing it now—

  “Marissa’s necklace,” Ryan whispered. “No—it’s not possible—”

  The box shook violently in her hands, and her thoughts spun back to that last fatal day, and Marissa with her necklace on … the necklace she always wore—and my God, it was around her neck that day.… How can it be here now—

  With a horrified cry, Ryan dropped the box and ran. And as she flung open the front door and saw Charles standing there, she felt his arms clamp around her like a steel trap.

  Chapter 11

  Ryan!” Charles gasped. “My God—you’re alive!”

  As Ryan stared into his shocked face, she gave him a shove and dashed past him out across the yard.

  “Ryan! Come back here!”

  She could hear him shouting, and she tried to run faster, but the deep snow slowed her down. She heard his breathing, and she began to scream.

  “No! Get away from me!”

  Something grabbed her ankles, and as she pitched forward, his body pinned her to the ground.

  “Stop it, Ryan!” Charles shouted. “I don’t blame you for being upset—but listen to me, will you?”

  “I will not!” She was beside herself with panic. “You tried to kill me! I’m calling the police!”

  He slammed her shoulders down. “Fine! Call them! They’ll be glad to know you finally showed up! Where have you been?”

  “Stop it! You’re just disappointed I’m not a corpse by now!”

  She struggled to free herself, but he was too strong. As his face bent closer, his eyes bored into hers with a chilling intensity.

  “I’ve been up … all … night … long,” he said slowly, each word hissing between clenched teeth. “I have been scared out of my mind! I finally got back here last night, and you weren’t in the van! I didn’t even know how to get back to where I’d lost you!”

  “You’re a liar,” Ryan said. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Just shut up and listen.” Charles was really angry, and she winced from his pressure on her arms. “I don’t know when—or from where—you decided to hitchhike home. All I know is that I thought you were buried under all those blankets, only you weren’t in the van when I got back last night! I couldn’t remember where we’d gone off the road—I drove around for hours—I got stuck in the snow—I slid into things—not to mention all the times I got lost all over again!”

  His eyes glittered fiercely, and Ryan stared back in confusion.

  “I finally came home and waited for the storm to let up. Then I had to wait for the roads to be cleared. And then I finally did find the road again, but you weren’t anywhere! So I got out and walked … and called … but you were gone! Dammit, Ryan, I thought you were dead!”

  Ryan gazed at him helplessly. “And … you really called the police?”

  “What kind of person do you think I am, anyway?” he shot back. “No … never mind. Don’t answer that.” He released her and straightened up. “You’ve been wanting to build a case against me ever since I got here. Come on, Ryan, I want to know what your problem is. All I wanted to do was bring Marissa’s presents, and it’s turned into a visit to hell! I don’t blame you for being mad about last night—but how do you think I felt! I’ve been in a panic, wondering what to do, wondering what I could tell your mother and Steve—”

  “Where are they?” Ryan mumbled. “Where’s Mom?”

  “She had to stay over at her friend’s house last night because of the snow.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “There was a message on the machine. She tried to call Steve at his house to tell him the roads were closed, and not to come and get her, but she couldn’t get him there, so she left a message for him on the machine here.”

  “So you listened in on our phone calls?”

  “I thought it might be you! Or the police! God, I was—” He broke off abruptly, running one hand through his hair. Ryan heard him make a disgusted sound in his throat as he got up and yanked her roughly to her feet. “Forget it, Ryan, it’s no use talking to you, since you already have some twisted idea about me in your head. Whatever that idea is.” Charles turned and started away, and Ryan hurried after him.

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “To call the police. To let them know you’re home safe, however the hell that happened—”

  “Charles!” Ryan was hurrying to keep up with his long strides, but he wouldn’t slow down. “Charles, wait! I’m sorry!”

  He did slow down then. As she covered the last few feet to his side, he looked back at her, his eyes so … so hurt, Ryan thought with a shock—I’ve hurt his feelings, and all this time—

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. She reached slowly for his hand, and he stared down as her fingers closed around his. “It’s just that …” Tears welled in her throat, and
she took a long moment to bring her voice under control. “It’s just that I’ve been so scared and … and … so—” She glanced toward the house and tried to suppress a shudder. “I’m really scared, Charles. I don’t know what to think—”

  His expression hovered between bewilderment and concern. She could tell he didn’t want to give in to her apology, but then she felt him squeezing her fingers.

  “Ryan … what’s wrong? You look so—”

  “It’s Marissa.”

  “Marissa?”

  “That package you brought—it doesn’t make sense! Her necklace was in it, but it couldn’t have been, don’t you see? She was wearing that necklace the day she died—she never took it off—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down here,” Charles was muttering, and Ryan felt her hand caught between both of his as he rubbed her fingers, trying to warm her up. “Just back up a minute. I don’t know what package you’re talking about—”

  “Yes, the one you brought. That Marissa got for me when you went shopping for antiques, remember? The one on the bed in Marissa’s room just now—”

  “No.” Charles shook his head. “No, the present I brought for you is down in the living room. I stuck it under the tree.”

  “No,” Ryan argued, pulling away, making the size of the box with her hands. “The little box—”

  “Big box,” Charles corrected. “Ryan, I know what she got you. I wrapped it myself, remember? It’s a big box. And it’s under the tree where I put it. I just saw it—just now—when you ran out of the house—”

  Ryan looked at him helplessly. “Then who left that box on the bed for me? Did someone come in the house while everyone was gone?” Her voice rose, working its way toward hysteria. “Charles, her necklace was in that box! How could her necklace be in that box when she drowned with it? And where did that box come from? Oh, my God—”

  Her head jerked up as a car pulled into the drive-way. She looked at Charles and heard herself whisper, “Oh, no, I can’t let Mom see that necklace!”

  “Where is it?”

  “In Marissa’s room—I threw it somewhere on the floor.”

  She saw Charles run ahead of her into the house … she heard her mother and Steve calling to her … she watched them as they struggled through the snow-drifts up to the porch.

  “Looks like I’ll have a lot of shoveling to do.” Steve grinned, helping Mrs. McCauley up the steps. “You’re out awful early, aren’t you? How was the caroling last night? Did you manage to salvage Phoebe’s future?”

  Mrs. McCauley gave her a weary glance. “I called Phoebe’s last night, but you two weren’t home yet. I wanted you to know I’d been stranded. Where’s Charles? Did you two have a good time?”

  For once Ryan was glad her mother wasn’t really listening. “It was okay. What’s in the box?”

  “A plaque.” Mrs. McCauley smiled sadly, lifting off the lid so Ryan could see. “Glenda gave it to me as a reminder of Marissa. I’m going right upstairs and hang it in her room.”

  “No, don’t!” Ryan grabbed her mother’s arm, and Mrs. McCauley winced.

  “Ryan, that hurt. What on earth is wrong with you now?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Ryan loosened her grip, but began pulling her mother toward the kitchen, all the while trying to signal Steve with her eyes. “I just want to hear all about your visit, that’s all. I’ll make us some coffee.”

  “But we can talk about it as soon as I—Ryan, what is the matter?” Mrs. McCauley firmly pushed Ryan’s hand from her arm and stared at her daughter. “You look terrible this morning. I bet you and Phoebe didn’t get a wink of sleep all night, as usual. Just look at her, Steve. You won’t be happy until you do get sick, will you, Ryan?”

  Steve was looking at her, and as Mrs. McCauley suddenly turned to face him, he managed to twist his face into an instant smile while trying to interpret Ryan’s frantic gestures behind her mother’s back.

  “Honestly, Steve, what are you looking so silly about?” Mrs. McCauley said irritably. “Everyone’s acting so peculiar around here this morning.…”

  “Maybe we should have coffee first,” Steve said quickly, his smile wavering uncertainly as Ryan glanced up the stairs and back to him again. “I’ll help you hang the plaque up later. Uh … where’s Charles?”

  “Still asleep, I think.” Ryan stepped aside to let her mother pass, and Steve gave an amused grin.

  “Welcome to the asylum, Steve.” He looked good-naturedly perplexed. “Well, I’m glad to see nothing’s changed much since I was last here. Ryan, would you mind telling me what’s going—”

  Ryan thought fast. “It’s Charles. He’s not feeling too well this morning—you know, the party last night and all—well, you know how Mom can be if she found out—”

  “Morning everyone. Some storm last night, huh?”

  Steve and Ryan glanced up as Charles came down the stairs. Mrs. McCauley peered around the kitchen door and smiled.

  “There you are, Charles. Did you have a good time last night?”

  “Great, thanks.” Charles paused on the bottom step, his eyes brushing casually over Ryan as he even more casually patted one pocket of his jeans. “Nothing like caroling to put you in the Christmas spirit, right, Ryan?”

  Ryan gave him a desperate look, her mind spinning. You found it, didn’t you? Tell me you found it—don’t tell me I imagined that, too—

  “Well, I think Ryan looks terrible this morning.” Mrs. McCauley seemed annoyed. “She’s much too pale, and she’s got those dark circles under her eyes that always mean she’s coming down with something. And how’d you get all these scratches? I think you should lie down, Ryan. Maybe I should call the doctor.”

  “I don’t need a doctor—” Ryan began, but Charles cut her off.

  “Good idea. I’ll go back up with you, Ryan—I need to get some stuff out of my bag.”

  Ryan felt Charles’s hand close around her elbow, guiding her up to the second floor. I’m going to explode, I’m going to start screaming, any minute, any second, I’m just going to go completely crazy.… She snapped back to attention as Charles squeezed her arm.

  “It’s okay, Ryan, I found it. Come on, let’s talk.”

  They were in the hallway now, and Charles was steering her toward Marissa’s room.

  “No—I don’t want to go back in there—”

  “We have to. They’re less likely to hear us in there.”

  As the door closed behind them, Ryan perched uneasily on the window seat and watched Charles listen several minutes to make sure that Mom and Steve had really stayed downstairs. Satisfied, he turned to face her and fished into his pocket. Ryan’s heart clutched as she recognized the chain dangling from his fingers.

  “It’s hers,” she said shakily.

  “Are you sure?” He looked doubtful. “It looks like the one she always wore, but that doesn’t make any sense.”

  Ryan began rocking, stiff, jerky movements, her body one giant knot. “This is impossible—you know that, don’t you? Impossible! She had it on that day—I saw her—she was fooling with it. She had it on when she—”

  “Are you … positive?” Charles asked again quietly, and Ryan nearly screamed at him.

  “Of course I am! Don’t you think I know what happened that day!” As Charles lowered his eyes, she wrapped her arms around herself and fought for composure. “Okay … okay, I’m sorry—but what does this mean? Is Marissa still alive? Did she put it here? I keep seeing her—I don’t even know what’s happening anymore.… Charles, how did this get here?”

  Ryan stopped, her whole body weak and shaking. She felt sick and bent her head, taking deep breaths. When Charles spoke, his voice sounded hollow and distant.

  “You know she’s not alive. You know that. There has to be some explanation. Some logical reason.”

  “Well, then, what is it?” Ryan gave a nervous laugh, shocked that she could find it even remotely amusing. “If Marissa’s really gone … then why isn’t her neckla
ce with her?”

  Chapter 12

  Ryan?”

  As Mrs. McCauley’s voice sounded from the hallway, Ryan nearly jumped out of her skin. She stared fearfully as Charles opened the door with an easy smile.

  “Oh, good, Charles, I’m glad you’re here. Maybe you can talk some sense into her. Ryan, I insist that you lie down. I called Mr. Partini and told him you wouldn’t be in today.”

  “Mom—I—”

  “He was very understanding,” Mrs. McCauley said firmly. “Now, I want you to rest. Dr. Wilson’s calling in a prescription for you—just something to help you relax.”

  “But I don’t need to—”

  “You’re entirely too high strung.” Her mother glanced apologetically at Charles. “She’s not usually this bad—she’s been under a great strain. She hasn’t been herself.”

  “Can I pick up that prescription for you?” Charles offered. “I’d like to do something to make myself useful.”

  “I’ll go,” Steve volunteered. He came up behind Mrs. McCauley and winked at Ryan over her mother’s head. “The roads are pretty well cleared off by now, and I need to stop at home for a minute, anyway. Got a little bit of packing to do before my trip.” He smiled down at Mrs. McCauley and gave her shoulder a squeeze as her face fell. “Only a couple days! It’s good I’m going away—you guys will appreciate me so much more when I come back!”

  “Oh, I just hate to think of you gone,” Mrs. McCauley said sadly. “The house will be so empty.

  “You have Ryan,” Steve reminded her. “And now you have Charles. Okay, Ryan, get to bed. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” And then we’ll talk, his eyes communicated to Ryan.

  “Then would you take me to the grocery store, Charles?” Mrs. McCauley motioned Ryan toward the bed and pulled an extra blanket from a closet shelf. “I’m running low on just about everything. Do you mind?”

  “My pleasure.” Charles gave a sweeping bow. “I hope you feel better, Ryan.”

  Ryan turned her face away, not looking at the door again until she heard everyone leave. In the heavy quiet she lay motionless, but she could feel her mind slowly and steadily crumbling.