by Wendy Webb
He took the letter, and I shone my flashlight beam onto the page while he read.
He looked up at me. “Suicide?”
“Yes,” I said. “She was clutching the suicide note that I gave to the police. I found this in an envelope under the covers of my bed on my first night here, after she died. She put it there before I even arrived. She planned this, down to the smallest detail. Read the whole thing.”
After a moment, he looked up from the page and held my gaze, the light from the fireplace casting his face in a yellowish glow. “So that’s why you’ve been so interested in finding the connections between us,” he said. “You’re trying to unlock whatever mystery she left you to solve.”
“That’s right,” I said, nodding.
He glanced back down to the letter and shook his head. “But this last line, the bit about your nightmare beginning. That’s a threat if I ever heard one. You found this on your first night at Cliffside?”
“I did.”
“It’s a wonder you didn’t pack up and leave right then,” he said. “I know what this says about you being financially responsible, but that’s a load of rubbish and would never stand up in court. Why didn’t you go?”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Harriet and Mr. Baines convinced me not to make too much of the ramblings of an old lady who was about to kill herself. And, also, I’m only the third director in its history.” I swallowed, hard. “All of the people employed here. All of the fellows who are scheduled to come. They’re all depending on me. I couldn’t very well just leave.”
“You felt a responsibility.”
“I did,” I said. “But now I wish to God I had packed up and left that first night. I don’t know what I’d be doing right now, but I can guarantee you that I wouldn’t be huddled in my bed, terrified of every little noise.”
Richard took my hand. “Oh, Norrie.”
I went on. “The ominous words Penelope Dare wrote to me in that letter are coming true. I do feel like I’m living a nightmare. And why? Why, Richard? What did I ever do to her that she would want me to be caught up in a nightmare?”
“Listen,” he said. “I’ll grant you that letter is terrifying. But maybe Harriet was right. Maybe it was nothing more than the ramblings of a demented old lady in the moments before she killed herself.”
“For one thing, she wasn’t demented,” I said. “She was as sane as you or me. She trained me, for goodness’ sake. I spent most of that day with her. She was calm, cool, and collected, and gave no hint that anything was wrong, that she was about to go upstairs to her room and swallow a bottle of pills.”
He nodded, a sadness coming over his face. “Unfortunately, I have some experience with suicide, and from what I’ve been told, oftentimes, when people decide to do it and create a plan of action, they are very calm, and even happy, in the hours or days before.”
I wondered who in his life had taken that ultimate step, but I didn’t ask him, not right then. If it was someone close to him, that pain would never go away, and I didn’t want to dredge it up any more than I already had.
“There’s something else I wanted to show you,” I said, laying the page from Brynn’s journal on the bed next to the suicide note. “Do you notice anything?”
Richard looked from one to the other and then up at me. “The handwriting is the same,” he said in a whisper, his eyes widening. Even in the soft light of the fireplace and the candles, I could see his face blanch.
I nodded. “Now you know. I told Diana, but the others have no idea.”
“But,” he drew out the word into several syllables, “Brynn’s journal was defaced long after Penelope Dare died.”
I just nodded and looked into his eyes. He leaned back against the headboard and ran a hand through his hair.
“That photo you showed me just now,” I said. “One of those shadows, or shapes, or whatever they are—one of them is her. I recognize her.”
He shook his head, seemingly trying to take this all in.
“And you don’t know the half of it,” I said, talking faster now. “Before you all got here, I was walking in the woods and ran into this creepy old man, who told me that Death himself lived at Cliffside. And after what Diana said about the dead not leaving here . . .”
Richard and I just looked at each other for what seemed like forever. “I’ve never been one to put any stock in the paranormal,” he said, finally. “But this . . .”
“I know.”
“Nobody could have knocked on that door tonight and gotten away without us seeing them,” he said. “It’s just not possible.”
“I know.”
“And those shapes or whatever the hell they are in the photo . . .”
“I know. And the dollhouse.”
“What about it?”
“When I first saw it, the dolls were arranged differently. Somebody put us, all of us, around that tea table.”
He winced. “I hate dolls,” he said. At that moment, I hated them, too.
“Maybe we should just bloody well get out of here,” he said. He got up from the bed and walked over to the window, pushed aside the curtains, and peered outside. Rain was still falling in sheets and thunder roared through the sky.
“I have a car,” he said. “We could just march out there right now and go.”
I shook my head. “No, driving on that road tonight would be more dangerous than staying here, I think,” I said, my voice wavering. “That’s where Chester and Chamomile Dare plunged to their deaths.”
“Then, we’ll go tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll help you convince the others.” He let out a sigh. “I’ll go back to my room, then,” he said. “Not that I’ll be getting much sleep.”
All at once, I didn’t want him to go. Everything that had happened to me since I had arrived at Cliffside was swirling around in my brain, and I felt like every cell in my body was trembling.
“Please stay,” I said. “I can’t stand the thought of spending all of these hours alone until morning. I’ll admit it, I’m terrified right now.”
His face softened. “We can’t have you terrified,” he said. “Of course I’ll stay. I’ll just stretch out by the fire.”
“You won’t be comfortable on the hard floor,” I said, scooting over a bit toward the edge of the bed. “You can sleep up here with me.”
He squinted at me. “And just like that, the evening takes a happy turn.”
I couldn’t help grinning. “Just sleep,” I said. “Don’t get any ideas, mister.”
He hopped up on the bed and turned on his side to face me. “Oh, I’ve already had ideas, Norrie Harper. For days now. Make no mistake about that.”
I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and I began to wish we were anywhere but in this house of horrors so our evening could indeed take a happy turn. But as it was, I pulled back. “Good night, Mr. Banks.”
I blew out the candles on my bedside table and snuggled down on my side, facing away from him. He put an arm around my waist, and I could feel the full length of his body against mine.
“You sleep tight,” he said, soft and low in my ear. “No ghost, not even the ghost of Penelope Dare herself, is going to bother you tonight while I’m here to protect you.”
I lay there, savoring the feeling of being next to him, until my breathing slowed and my thoughts began to swim. I drifted off to sleep knowing that, when morning dawned, we would be finished with this nightmare once and for all.
CHAPTER 28
I awoke to find Richard standing by the window, gazing out into the fog. I lay still for a moment and watched him. It was so strange to wake up and have somebody else in my room. I couldn’t remember the last time it had happened. I felt a twinge of misgiving—my head told me that having this man I barely knew remain in my room until the light of day wasn’t the wisest thing to do, but at the same time, my heart told me it felt right and normal, as though he should have been here all the time. Usually, I went with my head in such mat
ters, and I had to admit that, given the state of my love life in recent years, it hadn’t been serving me too well. I supposed it was high time the heart won and I took a risk.
When he heard me rustling, he turned to me and smiled. “Good morning, Miss Harper,” he said.
“Good morning to you, Mr. Banks.” I sat up and stretched, hoping I didn’t look as disheveled as I felt. “I didn’t hear you get up. Have you been awake long?”
“A while,” he said. “I just saw the driver take the car out of the garage and pull away, only to come back a few moments later.” He turned his gaze back to the window and scowled. “I wonder why he did that. The fog?”
I remembered the foggy drive on the precarious, winding road on the cliff the day I arrived, and my stomach dropped. “I don’t think that would’ve stopped him,” I said. “He told me he could drive that road blind if he needed to.”
I slipped out of bed, padded over to my closet, and grabbed a change of clothes. “I’m going to throw this on, and then we should go downstairs,” I said, stepping into the bathroom and leaning against the doorframe. “Are you still convinced we should all get out of here today?”
“It seems a little hysterical in the light of day, doesn’t it?”
I winced. “I’m not sure. I was terrified last night, that’s all I know.” A pang of guilt sizzled through me. “Okay, say we leave this morning,” I began. “What will happen to Cliffside? The program, I mean. The fellows who have already been scheduled are all counting on coming.”
He furrowed his brow and a flash of anger crossed his face. “After everything that woman has put you through, I have to ask, Norrie, do you really care?”
I realized just then that I did care, much more than I thought I did. If I left, would Cliffside fall apart, everything Chester Dare had done with his life, ruined? Yes, there were other applicants for the job I could hire before leaving, but for some reason, I didn’t want to do that. I had the inexplicable sense that I belonged at Cliffside, perhaps more than I’ve belonged anywhere. I was finally and truly home. I’d never felt that way before about any of the places I’d lived, certainly not any of the foster homes, even with the Harpers, whom I loved deeply.
And yet, another part of me wanted to run very fast and far away from here and never return.
“Give me two minutes to change, and we’ll go find the others and see what they have to say,” I said.
“I’m going to pop across the hall for a quick change as well,” he said. “I’ll knock on your door in two minutes.”
All at once, I changed my mind. “No,” I said. “I’ll come down in a bit. On second thought, I’m going to hop into the shower.”
“Right,” he said. “I’ll meet you downstairs, then.”
I followed him to the door and shut it behind him.
Down in the winter garden, I found Diana, Cassandra, and Henry chatting with Richard over coffee and croissants.
“I don’t know how Harriet made the coffee without electricity but, frankly, I don’t care,” Henry said, taking a long sip. “And we’ve got yesterday’s croissants, but again, I don’t care.” He sunk his knife into a pat of butter and spread it on the flaky roll before tearing a piece off and popping it into his mouth.
“Did you all sleep okay?” I asked, making my way to the sideboard and pouring a cup of coffee, sensing the first salvos of a headache.
“I must confess to being a little spooked,” Cassandra admitted. “I’m not usually bothered by things that go bump in the night, but things that knock loudly on my door? That’s another story.”
I took a seat next to her. “I was scared, too,” I said, shooting a glance toward Richard. He nodded to me, as if to say, Go on. So I did. “Listen, I was thinking. Considering everything that’s happened, should we cut our losses and leave?”
Richard jumped in. “This is starting to feel dangerous, for Eleanor especially.”
Diana, Henry, and Cassandra exchanged glances.
“Oh, dear,” Diana sighed.
Why was she the one who was always making this more difficult? She knew it all, more than anyone other than Richard and me.
“But—you all were there last night and heard that knocking, the same as I did,” I said. “And there’s more—”
But I didn’t get to finish that statement. Diana held up a hand to cut me off. “I know what you’re going to say, and you’ve got very valid points.” She turned to the others. “If you haven’t got the drift by now, Cliffside is haunted.”
Henry and Cassandra exchanged scowls.
“No, no, scoff if you want to, but I knew it the very first minute I stepped on this property,” Diana went on. “And, if last night and the display involving Brynn’s journal is any indication, the spirits have not exactly rolled out the welcome mat for us.”
Cassandra set her cup on the table with a clatter. “Are you seriously suggesting that we all just pack up and leave?” she asked. “We just got here! I’m getting great work done. And my return flight isn’t for more than three weeks. The penalties for making any changes are exorbitant, and I can’t afford to stay in a hotel all of that time.”
“Nor can I,” Henry said, taking another sip and crossing his legs. “Yes, last night was a bit eerie, I’ll grant you that, but—leaving? Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”
He took in my expression and chuckled. “Darlin’, I’m from the South. There are ghosts everywhere. A little knocking on any given night isn’t going to drive me away. Believe me, I’ve heard of a lot worse.”
“The fact of the matter is, leaving isn’t going to do you any good,” Diana said. “I’ve told you before, Eleanor, you can get away from Cliffside, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to get away from the spirit, or spirits, who are doing this. They’re ghosts, for goodness’ sake. They can follow you anywhere.”
That hadn’t occurred to me. I pulled a chair out from the table and sank into it. What now? I didn’t have long to ponder that question, because Harriet came scuffling into the room.
“Miss Harper, may I have a word?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said, pushing myself to my feet. She turned on her heel and walked out of the room, and I followed.
“What is it?” I asked when we had reached the kitchen.
“I wanted to give you the news,” she said. “They anticipate the electricity being back up soon. It might be another several hours, but they’re hoping to get it restored before nightfall.”
“Oh, great!” I said.
“It’s the road that’s our main concern right now.”
And just like that, my heart sank.
She nodded. “Yes, the road out to the main highway. We got so much rain last night, parts of it have eroded, slipped right down the cliff. Nobody can get in or out until it’s repaired.”
So that explained the driver’s short journey that morning. We couldn’t leave, even if we wanted to. I let out a long sigh. Why did I feel like Miss Penny had arranged this, too?
“When are they going to fix the road?”
“Mr. Baines spoke to the road crew this morning,” she said, crossing her arms. “They’ve got a few other washouts to take care of first, but it shouldn’t be too long. A few days, at most. Mr. Baines has his men out there right now taking a look to see if they can cut a makeshift path, so we can get a car through if necessary.”
“Do we have everything we need here until the road is fixed?” I asked.
She gave me a quick nod. “We do, for the most part.”
“Well, that’s it then,” I said. “We’ll be fine. Thank you, Harriet.”
She was about to leave when something occurred to me. “How were you able to call the road crew? I thought the phones were out along with the electricity.”
“No, ma’am. The land lines work just fine.”
That was good news, anyway. With a working phone, we wouldn’t be completely cut off from the outside world. And I had one in the director’s study, just in case.
As I was coming through the archway of the winter garden, I heard Henry say, “Where the devil is Brynn?”
Cassandra shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. “Sleeping late?”
Henry shook his head. “I don’t think so. She asked me to escort her down to breakfast every morning, saying she didn’t like to make an appearance in a room full of people on her own. We agreed that she would knock on my door at quarter past eight each day.”
“And today she didn’t,” I said.
“That’s right,” he said. “When she didn’t come, I went to her door, but she didn’t answer. I expected to see her here, in the breakfast room, but she was nowhere to be found. And now—it’s very odd that she hasn’t come down.”
“She might have gone for an early morning walk,” Richard offered.
“Brynn?” Henry snorted. “Please.”
Cassandra pushed her chair away from the table and took a last sip of her coffee. “Wherever she is, I really don’t care,” she said. “I’ve got work to do, and I’m going to get to it.”
Henry dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “I’ll join you,” he said. “Now that the rain has let up, I’m going to gather my things and head out to the cliff. I think I’ll start on a shoreline scene today.”
“And now,” Diana said, “I’ll take my leave as well. After last night, I’ll spend the day pondering the meaning of eternity.”
After she had left the room, I turned to Richard. “So much for our grand plans to leave,” I said. “The road from Cliffside to the main road to town is washed out at the cliff. Harriet told me this morning.”
He let out a sigh. “That’s it, then.”
We both got up from the table and made our way together through the house. As we walked, I filled him in about what else Harriet had said, the phone being up and the crew coming to do road repair soon.
“And the electricity?”
“It should be up by the end of the day.”
We reached the stairway, and he turned to me. “What are you going to do today?”
I hadn’t thought about it. After last night, I assumed we’d all be packing up and leaving. Now I was at loose ends. I shrugged. “No idea. What about you?”
