The Messenger: A Novel

by Burke, Jan

  Now she was vulnerable. Now someone or something was moving around out there, just on the other side of a flimsy screen. She could hear the soft rustle of leaves disturbed by a step, the snapping of small twigs beneath the weight of a foot. Slow, stalking steps, not random movements caused by the wind.

  Step. A pause. Step. A pause. More steps, slow and creeping.

  She clutched the covers, tried to track the direction of the sounds. Maybe it was only a cat or a skunk. No, too heavy to be a cat, and skunks didn’t move with that stalking step.

  It could be a dog. She shivered, and reached up to trace the old scar on the ridge of her eyebrow.

  She feared dogs. Had been terrified of dogs for years now. Not without reason.

  Or—was it a person out there?

  The curtains moved again. Was it her fear, or had the breeze suddenly turned chilly?

  She slid out of bed and crept toward her closet. She banged one of her shins on a dresser drawer she hadn’t fully closed, but managed to keep her reaction to the pain to a quiet hiss. She reached the closet, quickly put on her robe, and hurried toward her bedroom door. She opened it and stepped into the hallway, then softly pulled the door shut.

  “What—?” a voice behind her said.

  6

  She screamed before her cousin Brad finished saying, “—are you doing?”

  “Brad! You scared me to death!”

  “Apparently not,” he said.

  Lights came on in the upper hallway. Rebecca came out of her room and peered over the railing. Rebecca, even suddenly roused from sleep, looked perfect—as always. Rebecca and Brad were both tall, slender, blond, and blue eyed. Both favored their late mother. The look worked a little better on Rebecca than Brad, Amanda thought, but that might have been because Brad tended to sulk.

  “Amanda? What is it?” Rebecca said. “Are you all right?” She saw Brad standing next to Amanda and frowned at him.

  “Not my fault, I swear,” Brad said, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

  “That’s a first,” Rebecca said dryly.

  “I heard someone prowling around outside,” Amanda said. “It scared me. I had just come out of my room when Brad said something and I’m afraid I—I overreacted. Sorry.”

  “Someone prowling around outside?” Brad said, looking nervous.

  “Yes. I left my window open, and just now I thought I heard someone moving around out there.” She paused. “It might have been an animal, but I don’t think so.”

  “Brad,” Rebecca ordered, “go outside and look around.”

  “Me? Oh no. If it’s her imagination, I might catch a chill, and if it’s not, I don’t want to think about it.” He shuddered dramatically.

  “Is it your imagination?” Rebecca asked, starting down the stairs.

  Amanda blushed. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

  “Come on,” Rebecca said, “I’ll look with you.”

  Amanda turned on the outside lights, grabbed a baseball bat from the hall closet, and, looking down at her bare feet, hurriedly stepped into a pair of rain boots she found in the same hall closet.

  “Charming outfit, as usual,” Rebecca said, and opened the front door.

  The galoshes were loose on Amanda’s feet, and it took a bit of effort to keep from tripping or stepping out of them, but she followed Rebecca as quickly as she could.

  “I’m sure whoever it was is long gone by now,” Amanda said. “My scream probably scared him off. If not, then the sounds of everyone getting up out of bed and my turning the lights on—”

  “Probably. But let’s look around outside your window to see what we can see.”

  Amanda followed, thinking that these were the moments when she could actually be fond of Rebecca. She might grow tired of Rebecca’s bitchiness, her self-absorption, her moodiness—but Rebecca never sat still when action was needed. Rebecca, she had to admit, was bolder than she was.

  The scent of pine trees soothed Amanda’s own edgy nerves a bit. The house was situated in a canyon in the foothills above Los Angeles. The area was not wilderness, but many of the lots were large; the homes nearby were expensive. Most of the owners chose them for the seclusion the area afforded them.

  Amanda’s great-grandfather had been involved in the early movie industry and built the oldest part of the house as a private retreat, reputedly his love nest, where he’d sneak away to be with his mistress. No wonder, Amanda thought, he had concealed it by planting trees.

  Right at this moment, Amanda wished the house was not surrounded by quite so many of them. Only one other house had even a partial view of her home. Standing on the front porch, she looked up the hill and saw that no lights were on at Derek and Ron’s place—no, she had to stop thinking of it in that way. Tyler Hawthorne’s house.

  “So,” Rebecca said, following her gaze. “He’s gone.”

  “What?”

  “Tyler. When we saw him the other day, he said he was driving to St. Louis.”

  “Driving? Not flying?”

  “Yes.” She moved fearlessly down the front steps.

  Amanda followed her, Tyler forgotten. She tried not to think of all the things baseball bats wouldn’t stop.

  “He seemed very interested in knowing if you’d be at the party,” Rebecca added, and Amanda heard the underlying message.

  “I’m not interested in him.” Liar, an inner voice said. But she knew that once Rebecca came into a man’s orbit, he never thought twice about Rebecca’s klutzy cousin.

  “Oh, that doesn’t worry me,” Rebecca said, causing the last of Amanda’s fear to be chased away by anger.

  “I’m sure it doesn’t,” she bit out.

  “I just wondered why he’d be interested in you at all.”

  “He’s not interested. I met him briefly at the hospice. He and Ron are friends.”

  “Oh.” Rebecca frowned, working this out. Undoubtedly, as far as Rebecca was concerned, friendship with Ron put some kind of black mark against Tyler.

  “Doesn’t seem to be anyone out here now,” Rebecca said as they reached the area outside Amanda’s bedroom.

  “It wasn’t my imagination—”

  “Right. Whatever. I’m going back in. I’m freezing my ass off out here—I don’t carry as much weight as you do, you know, so I get cold faster.”

  Amanda let her go. She needed a few minutes alone to prevent herself from booting Rebecca’s skinny frozen ass from here to Laguna.

  Amanda decided she was going to walk back inside and tell them to leave tomorrow, and not to come back without an invitation. How would they like it if she just showed up out at their place in the desert? Not at all!

  She stood in the darkness, silently composing a lecture. She envisioned delivering it, and…her shoulders sank.

  She’d never do it. They were close to being the only family members she had left.

  A light went on in one of the rooms of Derek’s—no, Tyler’s—house, then a moment later the house was dark again. Rebecca must have been wrong about Tyler being out of town.

  She had better things to do than think about Tyler Hawthorne. She studied the ground near the window. She saw fresh tracks in the moist earth.

  “A dog,” she whispered to herself, swallowing hard. “A big dog.”

  She heard a rustling sound in the woods and whirled, bat at the ready. But the galoshes didn’t easily follow the motion, and she fell flat on her face in the dirt. She scrambled up in panic, bat held ready to swing, and tried to see beyond the area illuminated by the outdoor lights of her own house.

  She could hear something moving through the trees. Running.

  She braced herself for an attack, then realized the sounds were retreating.

  The dog—if it was a dog—was racing uphill—away from her.

  Suddenly, at the edge of the darkness, four figures appeared—two men, two women. Dressed in evening clothes.

  Fear and anger caused her to stiffen every muscle.

  She knew exactly who they
were.

  And knew they were long dead.

  “Go away!” she shouted.

  They disappeared just as she heard the front door open. Brad and Rebecca peered cautiously around the corner of the house.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she answered shakily. “Just a stray dog.”

  They heard the roar of an engine, the squealing brakes and tires as a vehicle took the curve in the road just downhill from the house.

  “Someone’s in a hurry,” Brad said.

  Together, they walked back inside the house. She put up with their merciless teasing about her fear of dogs.

  She closed the window and got back into bed. Tomorrow, she decided, she was moving up to the third floor.

  She had nearly drifted off to sleep when she recalled the fright Brad had given her, and a question occurred to her. What had Brad been doing downstairs, creeping around in the dark, well after midnight?

  Just before dawn, she awakened. The room was still dark, the blinds drawn, but she clearly saw four figures standing around her bed. Dressed, as they always were, the way they had been when she had last seen them alive. “Go away,” she whispered to her parents and aunt and uncle. She shut her eyes tightly and pulled the covers over her head. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  When the air grew stuffy beneath the bedding, she peered out over the edge of the comforter.

  They were gone.

  It took a long time to fall asleep again.

  7

  Evan and Daniel slowly made their way down the concrete stairs. Daniel, in the lead, shielded the flame of a single candle, the only form of light they were allowed to use in there. He tried to hold his hands steady. This was difficult, given the state of his nerves. From the moment they had driven away from Hawthorne’s new home, Daniel had been aware of the stench of Evan’s fear, and felt sure that his own horror was equally apparent. Now, though, as they reached the bottom of the stairs, the scent of their fear was overcome by the basement’s own miasma of decay.

  They stood side by side, trying to peer beyond the faint pool of candlelight.

  A deep voice came from a far corner.

  “Put out the candle.”

  Daniel obeyed.

  Surely one small flame had not warmed the room? But the complete darkness somehow felt colder.

  “You’ve failed,” the voice said. “Is that not so?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  There was a long silence. Daniel knew better than to offer information unless asked.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “The dog was there, my lord.”

  There was another silence, then the voice said, “Nonsense. He never travels without the dog.”

  There wasn’t a chance in hell that Daniel was going to contradict him.

  The next silence stretched on and on. Daniel began to shiver, not just from the cold.

  “If the dog was in the house, it would have destroyed you as quickly as it destroyed Eduardo.”

  Daniel felt sick to his stomach, remembering.

  “So, Daniel, assuming you aren’t so foolish as to lie to me, how is it possible that the dog was there and yet you’re alive?”

  “The dog wasn’t in the house, your lordship. I was searching the master bedroom when I happened to look out and see the animal running through the woods, toward the house.”

  “And you could see a black dog in the darkness?”

  “The neighbor’s lights were on. They might have had a motion sensor or something that picked up the dog’s movements. I don’t know, my lord.”

  “Perhaps someone’s pet frightened you?”

  “It moved—it moved very fast, my lord.”

  Another silence stretched before the voice said, “Fortunately for the two of you, I still need your services. You will even have a little time to compose yourselves, to try to find your courage. Let’s test this idea of yours, that he travels now and again without the dog.”

  “You want us to go back there, my lord?” Evan asked.

  “Did I indicate you should ask questions?” the voice snapped.

  “No, my lord,” Evan squeaked out.

  “Daniel, tell me where you searched.”

  Daniel managed to keep his voice fairly even as he gave his report. Together they had taken the elevator installed in Hawthorne’s house to the third floor, and he had started searching in the master bedroom while Evan climbed up through an access door and looked in the attic.

  Daniel had systematically searched the built-in drawers and cupboards. He had smiled to himself when he discovered an antique desk at one end of a large study, rubbed his hands together, and set to work. He had quickly figured out the mechanisms that revealed its secret compartments.

  “Ah yes,” his lordship said, almost sounding pleased with this part of his report, even though Daniel hadn’t found anything in the desk. “I believe it is this gift of yours that led Eduardo to recruit you.”

  “I believe so, my lord.”

  “And, Evan?”

  Evan had learned his lesson. He was concise. Daniel already knew he hadn’t found more than a few boxes in the attic and discovered nothing of value in them.

  “Any other details I should know, Daniel?”

  Daniel took a deep breath, and admitted damaging the bedroom door.

  “When I gave express orders that nothing was to seem to be disturbed? That no sign of your presence should be left there?”

  “Yes, my lord.” He braced himself for the consequences, even though he knew bracing was of no use whatsoever. “I had stepped out onto the deck outside the master bedroom when I saw the dog. I turned, and realized the doors leading outside had locked behind me. In—in my panic, I jimmied one of the doors open to get back inside.”

  He heard no sound coming from the other side of the room, but the smell of decay grew suddenly stronger.

  “Very good, Daniel,” the voice hissed in his ear. “My dear, relax! You give me greater obedience by admitting your error to me. I know you were afraid to be truthful with me. Evan here is feeling rather smug about your admission of a mistake.”

  “My lord—,” Evan began, but his next words were lost in a scream of pain.

  “You will learn not to speak unless spoken to, Evan,” the voice said, from somewhere across the room now. “Take him upstairs, Daniel. I don’t believe he’ll be able to manage it on his own. He should recover before I need you again.” He paused. “You may thank me.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Daniel said.

  “Evan?”

  An incoherent murmur came from the figure slumped on the floor. Daniel and Evan hated touching the floor.

  Evidently his lordship understood the murmur, because he said they were dismissed.

  Evan had not been allowed the mercy of passing out, so Daniel had to carry him—no easy task in the darkness—up a narrow stairway, with the stink and stickiness of whatever was on the floor all over him. But Evan had done the same for him on occasion, so he did not resent Evan for the effort involved.

  8

  A week later, Ron was home. Or at least, in his former home.

  He was still weak, but continued to improve. Amanda learned that Tyler Hawthorne had arranged around-the-clock private nursing care for him. After consulting with Ron, Tyler had left instructions that Amanda be allowed to visit Ron at any hour. Ron was refusing all other visitors. Amanda had not seen Tyler himself since the night she had met him at the hospice.

  “He travels a lot,” Ron explained. “He’s home now, though. Want me to ask him to join us?”

  “No thanks.”

  “What’s bothering you about him?”

  “I don’t know. I’m so happy that you’ve recovered—”

  “I know you are, but I hear a ‘but’ in there. But what…?”

  “But I’m worried that you’ll end up in debt to him,” she admitted.

  “No, I’ve got Derek’s proceeds from the house, and I can also sell some of the things
Derek took with him when he moved out—paintings and rare books, although I’d rather not part with them. Besides, I’ve got some news.” He grinned. “Maybe this will convince you that Tyler’s not all bad.”

  “I don’t think he’s bad!”

  “You mistrust him.”

  “No, not exactly.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell Ron that the last time she had seen Tyler, she had argued with him. About Ron. “Let’s just say I don’t know him well enough to trust him yet.”

  Ron studied her for a moment, then said, “Fair enough. Anyway, he needs help cataloging his library, and he’s hiring me to do it. He’s not in a rush, so I can work at my own pace, just when I feel up to it.” He was grinning, and she could see the light of excitement in his eyes. “He has some wonderful rare books, Amanda. I think that’s how he met Derek.”

  Bookish Ron. It was an ideal job for him. “Ron, I’m happy for you. I really am. But don’t you wonder why he’s—I don’t know how to put this—”

  “Showing such an interest in me?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “I told you. He and Derek knew each other. And he likes me. And not for my hot but frail body, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  She blushed. “I’m not.”

  “Oh, you were, or you wouldn’t be blushing. Nope. Doesn’t even think of me like a brother, the way you do. We’re friends. He’s not trying to get anything from me—I don’t have a damned thing to offer him but my friendship.”

  She fell silent. She kept thinking of how close she had come to losing Ron, though, and how vulnerable he still was—and not just to illness. She couldn’t think of a reason why Tyler would do so much for Ron, and found that between Tyler’s avoidance of her and his extreme generosity to Ron, she grew more and more suspicious—even as Ron grew more and more grateful to him.

  “Amanda…”

  “Did you ever hear Derek talk about him?”

  “No, but Derek rarely talked about anyone other than himself. You know that.”

  “True.”

  He waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, he said, “Remember about the safe-deposit key?”