When night falls
And the shadows call
He hovers in the dark
Hungering for your heart.
Don’t close your eyes
He’s watching for you.
Paige’s grip on Jimmy’s arm tightened. “Let’s go,” she quavered as the air vibrated around them.
He longs to take your soul
And put it in the hole
Deep down inside
Where now the devil hides.
Don’t close your eyes . . .
Don’t close your eyes? All Paige wanted to do was close her eyes. But she didn’t. She stared, mesmerized, as light suddenly flared from a window beside the door. It glowed and flickered. Candlelight.
She began to shiver. She didn’t need the bathroom anymore. She just wanted to be someplace else, anyplace else. She looked at Jimmy, who stared intensely at the light, his lips pressed together in a tight line of fear and excitement.
Piercing electric guitar chords raced frantically up and down the scale, pulsating through the warm summer night, striking deep within Paige’s stomach. The young man sang feelingly, menacingly, seeming to be right next to her, singing only to Paige:
And you try to escape
From the one who wears the cape
But he’s stealthy as a cat
And silent as a bat.
Silent as a bat? Paige looked nervously over her shoulder. Nothing she could see, but she felt something. “Jimmy, what’ll we do?” she almost sobbed.
Jimmy seemed frozen in place. His face was rigid as the song started again.
The light grew brighter, flickering from the windows. Paige knew another candle had been lit. More light. Another candle. What was this? Some kind of ceremony? Maybe a pagan ceremony? A Satanic ritual? The music grew even louder. Couldn’t the whole world hear it? Paige wondered as it shook and shuddered its way up to the black sky. Would that loving but also fearsome God everyone talked about now retaliate, sending down a lightning bolt, destroying the house and everything around it, including her and Jimmy?
Don’t close your eyes,
He’s reaching for you . . .
The night. The mist. The music. The dancing candlelight. Paige’s chest tightened. Each breath was an effort. She’d been worried about what her mother would think of her sneaking around at night. Her mother was a spirit now. They said this place was haunted but it couldn’t be her mother’s spirit inside. Meagan Meredith wouldn’t scare her little girl this much, even if she were angry with Paige for sneaking out. Could it be Ariel? Could a furious Ariel Saunders be laying claim to her house invaded by two kids? The scene began to swirl and Paige shut her eyes tight, trying to stop the spinning. If she fainted she couldn’t get away from this awful place.
“I’m gonna look in the window.”
Paige’s eyes snapped open. “No!” she rasped.
“I have to, Paige. The killer’s inside.”
“Don’t be crazy!” Paige said frantically, but Jimmy looked determined. She forced down her fear. This was getting serious and even if her adored Jimmy wanted to live in a fantasy world, she didn’t and she wouldn’t let him, either.
“Jimmy, no!” she said firmly. “You could get killed—”
The music shot a notch higher. The shadows around the house shifted and ebbed in the candle flames, seeming to dance along with the heart-thumping music. The night was chilly but sweat trickled down Paige’s sides and dampened the nape of her neck. “Jimmy, I’m going. You’re going too if I have to drag you—”
The front door flew open, slamming into the side of the house so hard Paige thought she heard wood splintering. The music soared. A hulking shape appeared in silhouette against the candlelight. Paige stopped breathing as a scream rose in her throat. The shape dipped and drifted toward them, snickering, muttering, “Don’t close your eyes . . . He’s reaching for you . . .”
Closer.
Closer . . .
A shadow fell over them. Paige and Jimmy screamed simultaneously. Paige’s bladder let go as they leaped from behind the bushes and ran blindly from the terrible throbbing house, ran heedless of grasping vines and wet grass and animal holes, ran until they felt as if their hearts would burst.
And somewhere in the distance an owl hooted . . .
7
I
MONDAY MORNING
Music. Mist. A hulking, dancing figure swooping down on them!
Paige screamed and jerked upward. Her father caught her in his big, hard arms. “Just a nightmare, honey.”
Paige took a deep breath and blinked several times. Yes, here she was in her twin bed with the pretty peach-and-green puffy quilt, her lacy curtains, her stuffed animal collection, her black-and-white cat Ripley lying by her side studying her with calm, green eyes.
“I came in because you were whimpering in your sleep. What were you dreaming?” Nick Meredith asked.
“It was all mixed up,” Paige lied. “But it was scary. Something about Mrs. Hunt’s murder.” Paige hated lying to her father. “I dreamed about the person who killed that poor woman. So awful!” she added, imitating Mrs. Collins’s voice when she’d spent the afternoon calling her friends to tell them about the murder.
“I see,” Nick said slowly. “In your dream did you see that person?”
“No. Just somebody big and mean.” Who likes candlelight and loud rock music, she thought with a shudder. “Did you catch him yet, Daddy?”
“No, but I will.” Nick smiled and kissed Paige on the forehead. “You get ready for school, kid.”
“Daddy, it’s summer.” Boy, he was tired, Paige thought. “Jimmy and I might hang out.”
“Doesn’t he know any guys?” Nick asked querulously.
“Yeah, but they swim all day. Or play baseball. Jimmy is more intellectual.”
Her father’s lips twitched. “Intellectual, huh? I never thought of Jimmy Jenkins as intellectual.”
“Oh, but he is, Daddy. He’s really smart.”
“I’d still like to see you play with Barbie dolls for a change.”
“I hate Barbie dolls!”
“Don’t the other girls play with them?”
“I guess, but I don’t have any friends that are girls.”
“Make some.”
Mrs. Collins hovered in the doorway. “I know some lovely young girls I could introduce her to.”
Wonderful, Paige thought. If Mrs. Collins liked them, they’d probably be a dull as she was. They’d want to have tea parties rather than solve murders.
“Hey, Dad,” Paige said quickly to change the subject, “Jimmy said out where Mrs. Hunt got killed yesterday there was a woman with black hair.”
“Yes.” Nick stood up, straightening his tie. “Natalie St. John. Her father is Andrew St. John who took out your tonsils in February.”
“Pretty?”
“Andrew St. John? Not especially.”
“Daddy! I mean his daughter. Is she pretty?”
“I guess. I really didn’t notice.”
Too casual, Paige observed. He’d noticed and he thought she was pretty. She didn’t like thinking of him with any woman except her mother, but she didn’t want him to be lonely, either. And she could tell he was really lonely in spite of her efforts to entertain him. “Jimmy said she probably took that lost dog home with her.”
“She did. She’s a veterinarian.”
Paige’s interest soared. “She likes animals!”
“Just like another young lady I know.” He looked at the shining black-and-white cat. “I think Ripley is getting fat.”
“Daddy, you’ll hurt his feelings!”
“He looks devastated.”
“If you think he’s too fat, maybe he should go see Natalie St. John.”
“She’s not in practice here. Besides, there is nothing wrong with the cat except a few extra pounds.”
“And he does have that annoying habit of jumping off the newel post on the stairs,” Mrs. Collins put in. “He startle
s the life out of me when he comes springing out of nowhere.”
“See, Daddy, that proves he’s not too fat or he couldn’t jump so well. But he does scratch his ears a lot.” Paige assumed a distressed look. “I’m worried.”
“You’re curious, Paige Meredith,” Nick laughed. “For some reason you want to get a look at Natalie St. John.” He shrugged. “If I see her, I’ll ask her about checking out Ripley. She’ll probably say no.”
“Not if she’s nice she won’t,” Paige muttered to Ripley when her father left the room. She lovingly touched the small black spot on the end of his pink nose. “That’s how we’ll know if she might be the right girl for Daddy.”
After Nick went to headquarters and Mrs. Collins drifted back downstairs to her knitting and her morning talk shows, the phone rang. Paige grabbed up her extension before Mrs. Collins could rouse herself from the couch. It was Jimmy. “Get in trouble?” he asked abruptly.
“No.”
“Told you. Did you tell your dad what we saw at the Saunders house?”
“Are you kidding? First I’d get grounded for life because of sneaking out and going to that place. Then he’d lock me up for being crazy. He’d never believe what we saw last night. No grownup would.”
“That’s why I’ve got another plan.”
Paige groaned inwardly. Jimmy and his plans. “What now?”
“We go back—”
“Go back! Are you completely nuts?”
“Let me finish. We go back with a camera! A Polaroid so we don’t have to wait for the film to be developed. We take a picture of that thing in the house. Then we show your dad.”
“A picture?”
“It’s the only way to get proof.”
Paige thought, gnawing her lower lip. “Well, it would be proof, but I don’t know about going back there . . .”
“Look, I know you’re scared because you’re a girl—”
“I’m not scared because I’m a girl! I’m not scared at all!”
“Okay, okay, don’t wet your pants.” Paige caught her breath. Had he seen her wet jeans last night after all? No. It was just an expression. “So you’re not scared,” Jimmy went on. “Fine. You just don’t want to get caught, so I’ll take my dad’s camera and say I was there all by myself. I won’t even mention you. That way you can be in on the action without getting in trouble.”
“You’d do that for me?” Paige asked.
“Yeah. We’re partners. Partners cover for each other.”
Paige was thrilled. Jimmy thought of her as his partner? She was frightened to go back out to Ariel Saunders’s house, terrified of seeing that awful creature again, but if she didn’t, Jimmy might no longer think of her as his partner. That was even worse than being scared silly.
“So are you coming with me?” Jimmy asked.
“Of course,” she answered with cool assurance she didn’t feel.
“Good, because we have to do something,” he said dramatically. “There’s a killer in that house, a madman, and we’re the only ones who know about it.”
II
Seven o’clock the previous evening Natalie finally had called Lily at Oliver’s house. “Natalie, my sister was murdered,” Lily had wailed. “Her throat was cut. And that note—the one about the throats and an open tomb—the sheriff thinks that was left on her body by the killer. But you knew that, didn’t you? That’s why you took the note from me. You knew my sister had been murdered. How?”
“I didn’t know, I just suspected. How are things at home?”
“It’s so strange around here,” Lily had said. “Dad is alternately raging or morose. And of course we’ve been graced with the presence of Viveca and Alison. I should be grateful. Viveca has a calming effect on Dad, but her syrupy concern drives me up the wall. And Alison! I don’t know how someone manages to be so creepy by doing so little. If Dad marries Viveca and Alison Cosgrove becomes my stepsister—”
“Don’t worry about that now.”
“I can’t help it.” Lily’s voice raced and shook. “She is just madly in love with Warren. Or whatever she thinks love is. She looks like she wants to tear off his clothes every time she glances at him. It’s sickening. I used to tell Tam that Alison was fixated on Warren, but Tam didn’t believe me. At least she pretended not to believe me. Even her innocent eyes couldn’t have missed Alison nearly drooling over Warren now, though. And don’t tell me I’m imagining things!”
“I wasn’t going to say anything. Good heavens, Lily, don’t get mad at me because you don’t like Viveca and Alison.”
“I’m not. I just wish they’d go home. For good.”
“How’s Warren doing?”
Lily had drawn a fresh breath and swept on at breakneck speed. “He seems lost but not out of shock or grief. It’s like he’s feeling his way along, deciding how he should act based on our reactions. It isn’t normal, Nat! Something is wrong where he’s concerned. His wife has been murdered, for God’s sake, and he just watches my father like a little boy waiting to get yelled at!” She had paused. “If you ask me, it’s guilt.”
“Guilt for what?”
“That’s the question. Guilt for not loving my sister? Or guilt for something worse? Nat, maybe he murdered her!”
Lily had gotten on a dangerous track. Natalie changed directions. “Do you need any help tomorrow? I know Warren will handle the funeral arrangements—”
“No, he won’t!” Lily had burst out. “He said he’d leave everything up to Dad and me because we’d do a better job. Better job my ass! The creep just doesn’t want to be bothered!”
“Lily, you’re really wired,” Natalie had said gently. “I’m having my father phone in a prescription for tranquilizers. They’ll be delivered and you will take one.”
“I don’t want—”
“I don’t care what you want. You sound like you’re going to start screaming.”
“My sister has been murdered!”
“I know. I’m not criticizing you. I’m just saying you’re falling apart. I want you to take a tranquilizer and try to get some sleep,” Natalie had said firmly. “I’ll do anything I can to help you with the funeral arrangements tomorrow. Deal?”
“Okay, deal,” Lily had said resignedly. “Thank you, Natalie.”
After she hung up, Natalie had thought of how strong, how assured she’d sounded. But she didn’t feel strong and assured. She was shaken and afraid she wouldn’t be the help Lily needed so desperately.
After the call had come her dream, her panic attack, and her frightening trip to The Blue Lady pavilion. After Nick Meredith rescued her, then lectured her, he had dropped her off at her house, and she’d hoped her father would not be awake. As she tiptoed down the hall, she’d heard him snoring. Thank God. She could never explain this exploit to him. She had immediately unloaded her gun and locked it back in the suitcase. Then she spent the rest of the night awake, coldly shaken by her encounter with someone claiming to be Tam, someone saying they wanted to kill her. What in the world was going on? Who would impersonate Tamara? Who would continue taunting her knowing she was armed?
The next morning Lily called at nine. Natalie had not gotten a moment’s sleep. “Still want to help me today?” Lily asked.
“Certainly.” Natalie tried to sound alert and as chipper as possible although her eyelids felt heavy. “What do you need for me to do?”
“Well, there’s the matter of Tam’s clothes. Will you go with me to her house and help me pick out an outfit for burial? And I need to go to the florist to select a blanket for the coffin—” Her voice broke.
“Lily—”
“I’m okay. I stayed at Dad’s last night. The tranquilizer helped. I got a little sleep.” She took a deep breath. “I left my car with you so would you mind picking me up?”
“Actually, I can’t drive a four-speed. I left your car at Tamara’s and Sheriff Meredith drove me home. I’ll pick you up, then you can get your car at Tam’s.”
Lily emerged from the Peyt
on home before Natalie could even honk the horn. When she got in the car, she didn’t look like the same lovely, jaunty woman who had picked up Natalie for lunch less than twenty-four hours earlier. Her blond hair hung sleep-flat, her skin was pale, and her eyelids were puffy from crying. She wore jeans and a light shell-pink sweater but no makeup and no jewelry.
Lily didn’t need any more worries. “You told me you slept, but you don’t look like it,” Natalie said gently.
“I slept a couple of hours near morning. I remember it was just starting to get light. Dad stayed up all night listening to music. ‘Clair de Lune’ again and again. It was Tam’s favorite song. She used to ice skate to it when we were kids.” She scrutinized Natalie. “You’re not looking so well yourself.”
Natalie longed to tell Lily about what happened at The Blue Lady. Even during the years when they’d lived in different towns, she’d always called Lily to discuss anything exciting or upsetting. But what could she possibly say? “I went to the pavilion last night and your dead sister talked to me. Actually, she quoted the Bible and told me she wanted me to be with her”?
“God, Nat, what’s going through your mind?” Lily asked sharply. “The look on your face . . . What’s happened?”
“Nothing. I’m just tired.”
“You’re more than tired. You look scared to death.”
She’d been terrified last night and she was still frightened today, but she couldn’t tell Lily the truth. Sharing would be a relief for her, but knowing someone was pretending to be her murdered sister would be horrifying to Lily. Natalie wouldn’t put her through more suffering. “Yesterday was a big shock for me, too, and I couldn’t sleep so I tried to calm myself down with alcohol. I drank too much,” she lied. “I felt sick for a moment, but I’m okay now.” Lily continued to stare at her skeptically and she changed the subject. “Are you sure Warren won’t mind us taking over the funeral arrangements?”
“I told you—”
“I know. You think he doesn’t give a damn.”
“When you see him, you’ll know what I mean.”
But Lily looked surprised when they reached the house. Warren opened the door, a hollow-eyed figure wearing an old sweatshirt and a day’s growth of beard. He held a coffee mug. The coffee smelled like espresso. Warren smelled like gin. Clearly he’d put in a hard night.
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