The Whisperer (Nightmare Hall)

by Diane Hoh

  No … no, it couldn’t be. How could anyone? No one had seen her going into or coming out of Dr. Stark’s office. Only Cooper Doyle had seen her in the hall and he couldn’t have known where she was coming from. There were so many other offices …

  But … what else could the telephone call have meant? Stealing the exam was the only thing she’d tried to get away with. It wasn’t like she was a hardened criminal. No long list of illegal activities for her to sort through, trying to find the one uncovered by the caller. There was only this one thing.

  How could someone know?

  Her hands were shaking so violently she had to stuff them into the pockets of her navy blue cardigan. Leaving the alcove, she hurried back to the booth and sank down on the seat. She was grateful that none of the others had returned yet. If they saw her like this, they’d know something was up.

  And what would you tell them, Shea? she asked herself. You’d have to make something up. See how one crime leads to another?

  Lying isn’t a crime, she argued silently. If it were, no one would be left on the streets. Everyone would be in jail.

  She took a sip of water in an effort to compose herself. She had to pull herself together before the others returned. Except for her romance with Sid, which Shea didn’t understand, Dinah was very perceptive. It was going to be hard to hide a guilty conscience from her.

  Another sip, and Shea felt a little better. Whoever that had been on the phone, they couldn’t possibly know what she’d done. The whispering voice had to be talking about something else. Maybe some girl who had a crush on Cooper Doyle had seen him sitting with her and had flipped out with jealousy.

  “Excuse me,” Shea called out to a waiter, “but is there another phone in here? Besides the one in that little alcove, I mean?”

  He pointed. “There’s a pay phone up front,” he said. “By the door.” He hurried away.

  A pay phone. So someone in here could have called her from the telephone in front. Some girl who was jealous, watching her talking to Coop …

  Reality check here, an inner voice said with contempt. You know perfectly well that call referred to the stolen exam. You just don’t want to believe someone knows.

  “What’s wrong?’ Dinah asked even before she’d slid into the booth.

  I knew it, Shea told herself. I knew she’d notice. “Nothing. I’m beat, though. And,” willing herself not to flush guiltily, “I’ve got that bio exam. I’m leaving. You coming?”

  “Aren’t you going to wait for the guys?” Dinah grinned. “I think Coop wants to get to know you better. Not that you need another guy in your life. It’s not like your social calendar is empty. You haven’t spent a weekend night in your room since you got here. But I think Coop has potential.”

  Just then Coop and Sid emerged from the back room. Shea didn’t like Sid. She’d never figured out what Dinah saw in him. They’d been together since high school, so maybe Sid was just a hard habit for Dinah to break. He wasn’t bad-looking, but he was cynical and sarcastic, often openly critical of Dinah in front of others. Shea hated that. She didn’t understand it. Dinah deserved better.

  Go figure, she thought as Sid put a careless arm around Dinah’s shoulders. He was far too proprietary for Shea’s tastes, resenting it whenever Dinah wanted to do something with her friends. Dinah didn’t seem to mind as much as Shea did.

  “Any reason why we can’t all walk back to campus together?” Coop asked lightly, his eyes on Shea.

  Not if you don’t mind walking with a cheat, she thought. If he only knew. … Not one of the three of them would believe it if she told them. Not Miss Self-Righteous, who gets so indignant about little injustices, like when Dinah got a speeding ticket from the campus police for going only five miles over the speed limit, or when Tandy had to pay an extra fee because someone in the bursar’s office lost a check she’d given them.

  There I was, Shea thought miserably, yelling and hollering, “That’s not right! That’s just not right! It’s the principle of the thing!”

  She was a fine one to judge what was right and what wasn’t.

  Tired of being disgusted with herself, she forced a smile and nodded at Coop. “No reason at all,” she said casually. “We’re all going in the same direction, right?” He seemed nice enough and she liked the way his eyes smiled even before his mouth did. Besides, she told herself as they left Vinnie’s, even condemned prisoners get a last meal. Maybe I’m entitled to a last fling with a cute guy. Before my life turns to ashes.

  It was odd, walking up the road toward campus with someone who talked casually and easily about college life, as if everything were perfectly normal. As, of course, it was … to him. He was on his way back to his dorm to study for the bio exam. But she was going back to study a copy of an exam she had stolen.

  Trying desperately to have a good time, Shea forced from her mind the grim thought that nothing was normal for her now. Maybe it never would be again.

  The telephone whisper slithered through her mind. “It’s all taken care of.”

  What did that mean?

  Wishing her luck on the test, Coop left her at the door to Devereaux Hall. He lived in the Sigma Chi house, and he and Sid turned in that direction.

  “He’s nice,” Dinah commented as they prepared to part at the door to Dinah’s room, five doors down the fourth-floor hall from Shea’s.

  Caught off guard Shea said, “Who?”

  Dinah laughed as she opened the door. “Boy, that exam really has you tied up in knots! I meant Coop. Don’t you think he’s nice?”

  Yeah, she did. So what? Romance wasn’t on her agenda just now. “Yeah, I guess so. He seems okay.”

  Dinah laughed. “Just okay? Tandy wanted him for herself, couldn’t you tell? She’d be pretty ticked off if she heard you playing it so cool about him.” As she went inside, she said, “Good luck tomorrow in Stark’s class. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

  “Thanks.” As the door closed, Shea felt a pang of envy. Dinah didn’t have to worry about the exam. Which was why she wouldn’t understand Shea’s desperation.

  If Tandy had been in their room on Devereaux’s fourth floor, Shea would have been forced to go to the library to study, afraid that Tandy would catch a glimpse of the exam copy. But Tandy was out. Maybe at Nightingale Hall again, the off-campus dorm where one Of Tandy’s best friends and swim teammate, Linda Carlyle, lived. Tandy sometimes stayed overnight with Linda, especially if they had an early-morning practice or were going on the road to a meet.

  Shea shivered. She didn’t understand how Tandy could sleep in that place. Nicknamed Nightmare Hall because of its gloomy appearance and rumors of strange things happening there, it was a huge, tired old house sitting high up on a hill off the highway, surrounded by deep, dark woods, its wide front porch tilted slightly. The shade of giant oak trees turned its worn red brick almost black. Shea had never had any trouble believing the stories about Nightmare Hall. From the outside, at least, it looked like something out of a horror movie.

  Tandy shrugged away the stories. “I like it up there. It’s fun.”

  Fun? Maybe. If you had a thing for bats and spiders and the wind howling through cracks in the walls. The Addams Family would be right at home there.

  Tandy didn’t come back that night. She called to say she was staying over with Linda, which left Shea free to openly study the copy of the exam. Just to be on the safe side, she locked the door.

  She studied all night long. By morning, aided by the exam copy and her textbook, she thought she had soaked up enough information to pull at least a B on the bio exam. If she could stay awake in class after being up all night.

  But before she left for class, she used scissors to dice the exam copy into microscopic pieces and flushed them down the toilet.

  When Dr. Mathilde Stark walked into the room, her mouth was pulled into a stern, straight line.

  “Uh-oh,” Dinah whispered to Shea, “fasten your seat belt.”

  The professor stood fron
t and center in the large, square room. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she began in a chilly voice, “I wish to call your attention to the fact that I did not fall off a turnip truck yesterday.”

  There were giggles and titters in the classroom.

  “When I leave an exam on my desk and my office door unlocked,” the professor continued, “I do it for a reason. I am well aware that in this modern age of strong ambition and weak scruples, the temptation may be greater for some than for others.”

  Shea stopped breathing.

  “I wish to weed out those weak links. They have no business on a college campus. Hard work is the only way to achieve an education, and that will never change. Furthermore, I do not wish to lock my door when I am out of my office briefly, and I see no reason to keep my teaching materials under lock and key. I shall continue these practices as long as I draw breath. That is not only my preference, it is my right.”

  She knows, Shea told herself with a growing sense of horror. She knows.

  “In my pursuit of those weak-kneed fools who refuse to earn a grade by simple hard work and study, I have chosen to take advantage of this age of technology. I recently took the precaution of installing the latest in technological advances—the videocamera—in my office.”

  Shea’s head began to throb.

  “I should like to point out,” Dr. Stark added, beginning to pace back and forth in front of her captive audience, “that I took this measure four days ago. That is four, ladies and gentlemen. The camera has been operative ever since.” The skirt of her dark, long-sleeved dress slapped at her booted ankles as she walked and talked. “Now, I might add that I am particularly anxious to view the film from yesterday afternoon, as I have reason to believe that the exam which you are about to take has been viewed by eyes other than mine.”

  Shea’s head swam. Videocamera? Film?

  Of her?

  Yes. Of her. The thief in question.

  “If I am right,” Dr. Stark concluded with a cold, sly smile as she began to hand out exam papers, “a star has been born in the cinema filament. Perhaps, if the quality of the film is acceptable, we shall all view it in this room on Monday morning at this same hour.” Then she added with mocking glee, “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  Under her desk, Shea’s knees knocked against each other. She was on film, stealing a test? The entire class was going to get to watch her sneaking around her science teacher’s office? Filching the test from that pile of papers on the desk? Copying it? Dr. Stark was going to show her criminal act … in class?

  She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

  Oh, but she could. Would. Of course.

  The humiliation wouldn’t end there. There would be serious repercussions. Salem University’s honor code was sternly enforced. Cheating meant automatic expulsion.

  What had she been thinking of? Why had she done it? She had worked her buns off to get to college, and now it was all going to end after only one-and-a-half semesters.

  She had to stop Dr. Stark from showing that incriminating film.

  Chapter 3

  SHEA LINGERED IN HER seat until everyone else had gone, telling Dinah not to wait for her. She had to confess to Dr. Stark. Had to throw herself on the professor’s mercy. Crawl on her hands and knees if necessary. And the sooner she did, the better.

  Still, she didn’t get up. Her legs felt like water. She sat at her desk in the empty room while the teacher collected her briefcase and papers and moved out from behind the lectern.

  Now! Shea ordered. Get your cowering self down there before she leaves …

  A student appeared in the doorway. “Phone call for you, Dr. Stark,” the boy said.

  “I’ll take it in my office,” the professor replied, and hurried out of the room.

  Shea groaned. She’d blown it. Wimp! she thought with contempt. Now you’ll have to face the lion in its den. You’ll have to go back into that office and face her there.

  Still she didn’t get up. She didn’t know how long she sat there, but eventually she became aware that many minutes had passed, and pulled herself to her feet. Reluctantly, feeling as if she were headed for a gallows, she left the bio room.

  Up two flights of stairs, down the hall, around a corner … there it was, the office she had entered yesterday, a thousand years ago. With the door shut, it looked like any other office.

  Maybe they’ll install a plaque over the door, Shea thought as she forced her watery knees forward. It’ll say, THIS IS WHERE SHEA FALLON MET HER DOOM.

  Knock, she ordered herself. Don’t just burst in there like a fool. Knock first. Maybe she’ll give you points for good manners.

  As if that would help. As if Dr. Stark would be swayed by an impressive show of etiquette.

  Well, you never knew. A little ordinary courtesy could soften her up.

  Shea knocked.

  No answer.

  She knocked again, harder this time.

  No response.

  She tried the doorknob and was amazed to find it moved. The door wasn’t locked.

  Just like yesterday, Shea thought angrily. Does the woman never learn? If the door had been locked yesterday afternoon, the way it should have been, none of this would be happening.

  It felt good to shift the blame to someone else.

  Shea pushed the door open. “Dr. Stark? Are you in here? It’s Shea Fallon. From your nine o’clock advanced bio class?”

  The only sound she heard was the familiar, maddening tick-tock of the wall clock.

  There was no tall, stern professor seated behind the big wooden desk.

  The desk … there was something wrong with the desk.

  Shea took a step forward.

  All of the neat piles of paper were in disarray, as if all of a sudden, a strong wind had ripped through them. And the lamp was gone, the green banker’s lamp that had tangled her in its cord yesterday.

  Shea studied the top of the desk. Where was the heavy copper cube? The paperweight?

  Someone had made a mess of Dr. Stark’s things.

  Shea’s heart thudded. The mess looked angry, as if someone had swept a furious arm across the top of the desk. She glanced around the room, and then her eyes went to the door leading to the copy room. Was that angry person still here, in the office? Hiding, maybe?

  She listened.

  Holding her breath, she tiptoed through the larger office toward the copying room.

  She kept going until she reached the open door.

  Tick-tock, tick-tock …

  The room was unoccupied. The copy machine was still there, and the couch, but nothing … or no one … else.

  Shea hesitated. It had taken so much energy to summon up enough courage to confront the professor. Now, she’d have to go through that process all over again. And if she left now and went to her other scheduled classes, who knew when she might catch the professor in? It wasn’t as if she had all the time in the world. This was something that had to be handled now. Before Dr. Stark strolled on over to the administration building and the Dean, with that disastrous bit of film in her hot little hands.

  Should she just plop down on the couch and wait?

  No. Bad idea. If Dr. Stark came back and found someone she probably already knew to be a cheat hanging out there and her desk in a mess, she’d assume Shea was responsible.

  I’ll wait out in the hall, Shea decided. That way she can’t accuse me of anything … anything besides what I’ve already done.

  Maybe she wasn’t even on that film. Maybe the camera had malfunctioned.

  And maybe Dr. Stark is the sweetest, most generous person alive, Shea thought cynically, turning and aiming for the outer office door.

  That was when she saw it. Sticking out from the far end of the desk, opposite the door. There was a smaller potted plant at this end of the desk. The plant, Shea realized, wasn’t real.

  But the foot she was looking at was.

  A foot … in a black leather ankle-high boot, the hem of a dark-printed skirt lying against it
.

  Shea stood perfectly still. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

  “Dr. Stark?” she whispered tentatively. After a moment or two of silence broken only by the ticking of the clock, she repeated the name, louder this time. “Dr. Stark?”

  She knew then that she hadn’t really expected an answer. Hadn’t she already guessed that something was very, very wrong?

  I can’t go over there, she thought, knowing even as she thought it that she had no choice. She had to walk over to look behind the desk. She couldn’t just leave, even though every nerve in her body was screaming at her to do just that.

  Biting on her lower lip, Shea walked slowly, fearfully, over to the desk. Taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, she bent forward to peer around it.

  And groaned aloud, one hand flying to her mouth, her knees buckling. She slid to the floor and then quickly scuttled backward until she her spine slammed into a chair. She sat there, her eyes wide with disbelief, staring.

  Mathilde Stark was sprawled awkwardly, arms and legs akimbo, on the hardwood floor. She was lying facedown, her head turned away from Shea. Her reddish-brown hair had fallen free of its customary bun and spilled across her shoulders. A quarter-sized splotch of bright red stood out vividly on the back of her skull, with a matching splotch at her right temple. More red spilled out across the beige carpet beneath her.

  She looks younger unconscious, Shea thought numbly, all of her senses frozen. Not that Dr. Stark was all that old. It was the way she dressed, in those dark, plain clothes, and the way she wore her hair, skinned back from her face like that, that made it hard to guess her age.

  But she certainly wasn’t old enough to die.

  Shea snapped out of it, then. If the professor was still alive, she would need help.

  The first thing was to find out if she was breathing. That meant touching her. Shea felt sick. But it had to be done and she was the only one there, although she could no longer remember exactly why she was there.

  Crawling on her hands and knees, she made her way over to the body sprawled between the desk and the taller potted plant. The hand that reached out to check a limp wrist was trembling wildly.