by John Saul
Hesitantly, almost shyly, Melissa crept across to the bed and knelt down. “Teri?” she whispered. “Teri, are you awake?”
There was no response from her half sister.
Melissa reached out and touched Teri’s shoulder. Teri moaned softly and rolled over, turning her back to Melissa.
Melissa’s heart raced. How could Teri be this sound asleep so quickly? Only a few minutes ago they’d both been out in the pottingshed.
Unless …
Inhaling sharply, she grasped Teri’s shoulder and shook her. “Teri!” she whispered loudly. “Teri, wake up!”
Teri rolled over and sat up. Her eyes blinked a few times, then she squinted at Melissa in the dim moonlight.
“Melissa?” she asked, her voice sounding thick with sleep. “Wh-What time is it?”
“I—I don’t know,” Melissa stammered.
“Well, what are you doing in here?” Teri asked. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
Melissa’s eyes widened in the darkness. “The—The dress,” she said, her voice faltering. “What did you do with it?”
Now Teri reached over and snapped on the lamp on her nightstand. Melissa shied away from the brilliance of the light, but in a few seconds her eyes adjusted to the illumination and focused on Teri’s face.
Her half sister was gazing at her, her expression puzzled. “What dress?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”
Icy fingers of panic reached out to Melissa. It was impossible—it couldn’t have been a dream—it couldn’t have! “The white dress,” she whispered. “The one from the attic, that I wore to the dance. It was in my room tonight!”
Teri frowned and shook her head. “It couldn’t have been,” she said. “I threw it away that night, after we brought you home.”
“But you couldn’t have,” Melissa insisted. “Don’t you remember? You saw it tonight. And we went out to the pottingshed.”
Teri’s frown deepened. “Melissa, what are you talking about? We went out to the pottingshed? When?”
Melissa’s eyes flooded with tears. “Just a little while ago. We—We found Tag out there. D-D’Arcy did something to him.…”
Teri shook her head once more. “Melissa, I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about. Just tell me what happened.”
As best she could, choking back the sobs that threatened to overwhelm her, Melissa pieced the story together. “But after I saw Tag,” she finished, “I—I don’t remember anything else. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hall. C-Cora said I was going up to the attic.”
Teri groaned and flopped down on the pillow. “Oh, for God’s sake, Melissa, why don’t you grow up?”
Melissa drew back from her half sister. “But—”
“It was a nightmare, Melissa,” Teri declared. “Isn’t it obvious? You had a nightmare and started walking in your sleep, and Cora found you!”
“But it wasn’t a nightmare,” Melissa insisted. “You were with me!”
Teri shook her head. “I haven’t been anywhere, Melissa. I went to bed a little after ten, and I’ve been asleep ever since.” Her lips twisted into a scornful smile. “If you can’t even tell when you’re dreaming, maybe you’re as crazy as the kids say you are. Now go back to bed and let me go back to sleep, all right?” Without waiting for a reply, she turned the light off again and rolled over once more, pulling the covers up over her head.
But when Melissa was gone, she kicked the covers off, flopped over onto her back and clamped her hands against her mouth.
The last thing she needed right now was for Melissa to hear her laughter.
CHAPTER 25
“Missy? Honey, it’s time to wake up.” Charles Holloway shook his daughter gently, and finally she rolled over and opened her eyes, closing them instantly against the bright morning sun that flooded through the windows.
“D-Daddy?” she asked. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine, sweetheart,” Charles replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed and taking Melissa’s hand in his own. “I’ve got to go back to the city, but I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye to you.”
Melissa barely heard the words, for as she came fully awake, the memory of the night before leaped into her mind. She felt a cold chill of panic run through her and sat up, her arms snaking around her father’s neck. “N-No,” she begged. “Don’t go. Please?”
Charles hugged her close for a moment, but then gently disengaged himself from her embrace. “Hey, it’s only for today. I’ve got a couple of things to take care of, and I’ll be back tonight.” He grinned at her encouragingly. “It’s only a few hours. I’m going to fly down, go to a lunch meeting, and fly back. And if I don’t get going, I’m going to miss my plane. Okay?”
Melissa, her mind still filled with the horrible images from the previous night, stiffened. She wanted to tell her father what had happened, beg him to go out to the pottingshed with her right now and look under the floorboards.
But then she remembered the night she’d seen Blackie in the attic, and the night D’Arcy, standing at the top of the attic stairs, had flung her hand down at Melissa’s feet.
Both times, when she’d insisted that one or the other of her parents go and look, there had been nothing there.
And the memories of what she’d seen those nights were every bit as vivid as the memory of seeing Tag’s body in the dim moonlight that had shined through the pottingshed door.
Could it have been nothing more than a nightmare?
It must have been, for the next thing she could remember after staring at the carnage in the pit was waking up in the house.
In the house, only a few feet from her own room.
And even now she could remember Cora’s words.
“You were walking in your sleep again, darling. I think you were going up to the attic again.”
Cora had been in the house—she’d been downstairs. If she’d really been outside, wouldn’t Cora have seen her come back in?
It had to have been a nightmare.
“Y-You won’t be gone all night, will you?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Of course not,” Charles assured her. “I told Dr. Andrews I’d take more time out here, just to be with you, and I meant it. But I just can’t get out of this meeting. You understand, don’t you?”
Melissa managed a nod, but as her father stood up, she clung to his hand. “I—I had another nightmare last night, Papa,” she breathed.
Charles hesitated, then sank back onto the bed. “Another one?”
“T-Tag was dead,” she said, her voice quavering and her eyes moistening with tears. “He—”
Charles’s arms went around his daughter once more and he cradled her head against his chest. “Hush,” he crooned. “It was only a dream, Missy. I’m sure Tag’s all right—”
Melissa gasped and pulled away from her father, her eyes wary. “Isn’t he here?” she asked.
Charles wished he’d thought before he’d spoken. “He went off somewhere yesterday afternoon,” he reluctantly admitted. “And he hasn’t come back yet.”
A tiny wail escaped Melissa’s lips. “Wh-What if—” she began, but her father silenced her by pressing a finger to her lips.
“Now just stop that,” he told her. “You had a nightmare, and that’s all there was to it. You were pretty upset at Jeff’s funeral yesterday, remember? I wish I hadn’t let you look at him at all. God knows, looking at dead bodies is a barbaric custom, and I don’t know why anyone still does it. I remember the nightmares I had when I was your age and had to look at my grandmother after she’d died. For the next week, I woke up every night, sure that I’d seen her. She was dead, but her eyes were open and she was staring at me. Just watching me, as though I’d done something to her. And that’s all that happened to you—you saw Jeff Barnstable’s body yesterday, and in your dream it got changed to Tag’s. But it wasn’t real, honey.” His eyes met hers and his voice dropped slightly. “You have to start understa
nding what’s real and what’s not,” he told her. “Dreams are just that—dreams. Some of them might mean something, but it still doesn’t make them real.”
Getting to his feet once more, he smiled fondly at her. “Tell you what,” he said. “Why don’t you just stay in bed today and take it easy. And then, when I get home, you and I will spend the whole evening together. Just the two of us—we’ll go out for dinner, and maybe go to a movie. Does that sound like fun?”
Melissa nodded automatically, though she’d barely heard the words.
If Tag was gone …
No, she told herself once more. It was just a nightmare. But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, she knew she didn’t believe it had all been a dream.
An hour later, still lying in bed, Melissa heard the familiar crunching of the gravel on the driveway as Cora backed her car out of its stall behind her house and left the estate on her way into the village. Cora had brought some breakfast up to her a little while ago, but the tray still sat untouched on her vanity. She’d asked Cora about Tag, but although Cora had tried to assure her that he’d probably be back any minute now, Melissa could tell the housekeeper didn’t believe her own words. She’d started to tell Cora about her nightmare, but Cora had refused to listen.
“I don’t want you even to talk about it,” she’d said. “You should just forget about bad dreams. If you let them get you all upset, they’ll just come back over and over again. They’re like demons, that’s what.” She’d chattered on, but Melissa had stopped listening. She could not force her mind away from the horrible images she’d seen the night before.
Now, with her mother and half sister long since gone to the club to play tennis, and the house completely empty, she finally got out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and her favorite T-shirt—the one Tag had given her—and shoved her feet into a pair of worn sneakers. Though she still had no appetite, she forced herself to drink the glass of orange juice Cora had brought her, then took the tray downstairs.
The house had a strange silence to it, an oppressive emptiness that made Melissa want to run outside. She started to do the dishes, but as she ran some water into the sink, she suddenly knew she could stand it no longer.
She had to go out to the pottingshed and look for herself. If what had happened last night had truly been only a nightmare, at least she would know, and finally release herself from the terrible fears that had held her in their grip since the moment she’d awakened.
But if it hadn’t been a nightmare …
She put the thought out of her mind.
Abandoning the dirty dishes and leaving the sink half filled with water, she opened the back door and stepped out into the sunlight, but even the heat of the morning couldn’t penetrate the cold knot of fear that had settled into her belly.
She crossed the terrace and skirted the pool, unconsciously retracing the path she’d followed the night before, while lost in the sleep to which D’Arcy had sent her.
At last she came to the pottingshed, and a wave of trepidation broke over her as she examined its broken door. She felt her legs tremble and for a moment wanted to turn back. But she knew she couldn’t.
She had to know.
She forced herself to move forward, and reached out to push the door open. The first thing she saw, the morning sun glinting brightly on its blade, was the machete.
Her eyes fixed on it, willing it to disappear, to return to its accustomed place against the wall inside the garage.
It remained where it was, silently accusing her.
And then she noticed the scent.
The sickly sweet fumes of decaying flesh assaulted her nostrils, and as her lungs filled with the noxious odor, the images leaped back into her mind with a new clarity.
With shaking hands she reached down and lifted one of the floorboards.
Her mind reeled at the sight she beheld.
Flies covered Tag’s corpse, a black undulating mass of feeding insects that swarmed upward as the floor opened above them. Beneath the flies were the maggots, feeding on the ragged edges of Tag’s wounds.
Her gorge rising as her eyes fixed on the grisly scene, a stream of vomit spewed from Melissa’s mouth, but she was unaware of what was happening to her body, for her mind—stretched finally too taut—was at last beginning to rend asunder.
Silently, she screamed out for help, screamed out to the only friend who had never abandoned her, never failed her. Help me, D’Arcy. Please help me …
She felt the familiar blackness closing around her, felt all the sights she could no longer bear to witness fade away.
Sleep.
She had to sleep.
And this time she hoped never to wake up again.
This time she wanted to fall away into the black abyss and simply remain there, submerged forever in the soft darkness of forgiving sleep.
No one was there to see the change that came over Melissa now, no one witnessed the strange transformation as the personality of D’Arcy emerged once more, coming for the first time into the light of day.
Her eyes, only a moment ago clamped shut against the horror at her feet, now opened, and she gazed steadily, almost curiously, at the carnage beneath the floor.
Teri’s words, words that in her memory had been uttered only a few minutes ago, drifted into her mind.
“… it wasn’t really you that did it, was it?”
Why was she here?
She had gone back to the house.
She’d gone back to the house to put Melissa to bed.
But someone had sent her away.
Someone had started talking to her, and Melissa had finally heard them and awakened.
And now she was back in the pottingshed, and Teri was gone, and somehow it was daylight.
She gazed once more at the corpse beneath the floor. Had Melissa done this?
She didn’t know. But she had never known why Melissa was in trouble. All she’d ever known was that when Melissa was being punished, it was up to her to take care of her.
And if Melissa had done this, surely she would be punished.
D’Arcy knew what that meant.
She turned away from the gaping hole in the floor and walked slowly back to the house. Ignoring the dirty dishes in the sink, she passed through the kitchen to the old servants’ stairs and climbed quickly to the second floor.
Emerging from the door at the end of the guest-wing hall, she walked down the length of the corridor until she came to the master suite. She opened the door and went inside, going directly to the cedar chest in Melissa’s father’s dressing room.
In the bottom of the third drawer, hidden beneath a stack of sweaters, she found what she was looking for.
At last she went to Melissa’s room and pulled back the covers on the bed.
She began attaching the thick nylon straps of the restraints to the frame of the bed, and, when she was done, took off her clothes and slipped into a pair of Melissa’s pajamas.
At last she got on the bed, stretched out her legs, and began fastening the leather cuffs to her ankles.
When she was finished, she used the fingers of her right hand to fasten another cuff to her left wrist.
At last, the final strap, the one she’d been unable to fasten to her arm, held firmly in her hand, she lay stretched out on her back.
Once more she would endure Melissa’s punishment.
Tom Mallory unconsciously tapped the eraser of his pencil against his front teeth as he scanned the report Cora Peterson had filled out. At last, dropping the pencil on his desk, he shifted his eyes from the report to Cora herself, perched nervously on the hard wooden chair on the other side of the desk. “Well, if it was anybody else but Tag,” he observed almost reluctantly, “I’d have to say there isn’t much we can do for another twenty-four hours or so. But I don’t know …” He sighed, leaning back and folding his hands over his stomach. “I guess I tend to agree with you. Tag’s never given anybody in this town a speck of trouble, and ever si
nce he was knee-high to a grasshopper, he’s been more grown up than half the men we got on the force here.”
For the first time since Tag had disappeared, Cora felt a little of the nervous tension ebb from her body. “Then you’ll look for him?” she asked anxiously.
Mallory nodded. “I’ll have all the boys keep an eye out, and get copies of his picture made.” He held up the snapshot of Tag that Cora had brought with her. In the picture, Tag was grinning happily, wearing a baseball cap that Tom Mallory himself had given to him only last summer. Mallory shook his head sadly. “I just can’t see anyone wanting to hurt Tag,” he mused almost to himself. “There isn’t a soul in town who doesn’t like that boy.”
Cora nodded. “That’s why I can’t understand it. He was right in the middle of his chores when I came to town yesterday. And when I got back, he’d just vanished.”
Mallory shrugged. “What about that dog of his? It ever show up?”
Cora shook her head. “But that’s different. Dogs run off all the time.”
“Well, I think the first thing we better do is have a few people check out the woods around the cove, and maybe that stretch of rocks up north. If Tag was out hunting for the dog, he could have had some kind of accident. If he was trying to climb some of those rocks …” He let his voice trail off as he saw the color drain from Cora’s normally ruddy face.
“He wouldn’t have done that,” she said. “He knows how dangerous the bluffs can be. He—”
“Now, take it easy, Mrs. Peterson. I didn’t say anything had happened to him. But it seems to me that right now the best thing we can hope for is that he fell somewhere and maybe broke a leg. And if he did, he’ll be all right. We’ll find him.”
But Cora still wasn’t convinced, and now she shifted uneasily in her chair. There was something she’d left out of the report, something she hadn’t yet told Tom Mallory about. But it had been gnawing at her ever since yesterday. All night—as she’d lain awake listening every minute for Tag to come home—she kept thinking about Teri MacIver. But even now it seemed … well, it seemed just plain disloyal to talk to the police about Charles Holloway’s own daughter.
