by John Saul
The phone was picked up on the third ring. “Estherbrook residence.” Though the voice was similar to Virginia Estherbrook’s, it had a slight Southern lilt to it.
“Virginia?” Tony asked.
A musical laugh came over the line. “This is her niece. But we do sound alike, don’t we?”
“Her niece,” Tony repeated. When Caroline’s brows rose questioningly, he gave her an uncertain shrug. “What time will Virginia be back?”
“Not until spring, at least,” the voice at the other end said. “She and my mother have gone to Italy. Is there something I can help you with?”
Tony hesitated. “I don’t think so. This is Mr. Fleming—” He glanced at Caroline whose expression had grown even more curious. “One of your aunt’s neighbors,” he went on. “I was just hoping Virgie might be able to help me out with something.”
“Tony Fleming?” the woman at the other end of the line said. “I was going to call you this evening. Or at least I was going to call your wife. Caroline, isn’t it?”
“Yes. We—”
“Aunt Virgie said I’d love her, and I was hoping maybe we could have lunch together or something. I don’t know a soul, and I’ve got nothing to do.” She paused for only a split second. “Oh, Lord, that makes me sound pathetic, doesn’t it? What I mean is, I just got into town last night, and I haven’t had a chance to make any plans yet.”
Tony hesitated, then: “Could you hold on a minute?”
“Of course.”
He put his hand over the receiver and repeated what the other woman had just said to Caroline. “I was thinking maybe I should ask her down for a drink or something. And if she doesn’t have anything to do—” He didn’t have to finish the sentence for Caroline to get the idea.
“Tony, we don’t even know her!”
“So let’s size her up—it might be perfect.”
“I still think this is crazy,” Caroline said an hour later when the doorbell rang. “We don’t even know the woman and—”
“And nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Tony cut in. “All we’re doing is being neighborly. Let’s just see what happens, then make up our minds.”
As he pulled the front door open, Caroline felt her jaw start to go slack, but tried to catch herself before she was left simply gaping in surprise.
Too late. The woman standing in the hall was already laughing. “I’m sorry,” she said, extending her hand. “I should have warned your husband that I look just like my aunt—it’s weird, because my mother doesn’t really look like her at all.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Actually, there are times when I suspect I’m really Aunt Virgie’s daughter, but she didn’t want to marry my father. Then I have to start wondering who my father might have been, and when I think of all the men Aunt Virgie—” She stopped short, reddening slightly. “Lord, just listen to me. Why don’t I ever learn to just shut my mouth? I’m Melanie Shackleforth.”
Taking the other woman’s hand and finally finding her voice, Caroline drew Melanie Shackleforth inside. “I’m Caroline Ev—” Now it was she who reddened. “Caroline Fleming,” she finished, still unable to take her eyes off the woman who had just introduced herself. It was as if she were looking at Virginia Estherbrook herself, except that Melanie Shackleforth was slightly taller—perhaps an inch or maybe a little more—and forty years younger. Along with her aunt’s looks, she seemed to have inherited Virginia’s sense of style as well; she was wearing an emerald green pantsuit that showed off her figure without over-accentuating anything, and was the perfect complement for her auburn hair. If she was wearing any makeup it was so expertly applied as to be invisible, and her smile was so utterly genuine that Caroline was certain she was either unaware of how beautiful she was, or simply didn’t care. “This is my husband Tony, who talked to you on the phone.” As she led Melanie toward the kitchen, she found herself apologizing for the apartment. “I know it looks awful, but I’ve been working on so many others that I just haven’t had time to get to ours yet.”
“I love what you’re doing with Aunt Virgie’s,” Melanie said. “And I promise not to get in the way of the workmen. Just tell me what to stay out of, and I’ll make myself invisible. I didn’t really want to come at all, but when Mother and Aunt Virgie suddenly ran off to Italy, she insisted I stay.”
They settled into the kitchen and an hour later, when they finally decided it was late enough to open a bottle of wine, Caroline felt as if she’d known Melanie for years. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” she asked as Tony poured them each a glass of a bone-dry Chablis.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly intrude,” Melanie began, but Caroline brushed her words aside.
“You won’t be intruding, believe me. After everything the neighbors did for us when we got back from our honeymoon, it’s the least we can do.” Then, as she thought of Andrea Costanza—and all the paranoid thoughts that would fill the evening if she couldn’t find some kind of distraction—she added a single, plaintive word. “Please?”
“My Lord, how on earth did it ever get this late?” Melanie asked as the clock in the hall struck nine. The three adults were still sitting around the dining room table, though Laurie and Ryan had excused themselves an hour ago and vanished up the stairs to their rooms. Now Melanie started clearing the plates off the dining-room table, and when Caroline tried to stop her, she waved her away. “Go up and tuck those two perfect children of yours into bed.”
“Hardly perfect,” Caroline replied, though Ryan had mercifully decided to behave himself tonight. The arnica Tony had given him earlier had taken care of the bruise on his forehead, and the swelling was mostly down, and apparently his suspension from school had taken the effect Ralph Winthrop was hoping for, at least temporarily. He’d shaken Melanie Shackleforth’s hand after only a moment’s hesitation, and sat through dinner quietly, barely saying a word but responding politely whenever he was spoken to. Caroline caught him looking at Melanie out of the corner of his eye a few times, but at least he’d stopped short of openly staring at her. Laurie had been quiet, too, though she hadn’t eaten much.
“Well you might not think they’re perfect, but from what I’ve seen of modern children, they’re a lot better than average. You ever need a baby sitter, you just let me know, all right?”
Caroline, following her into the kitchen with the last of the chicken casserole they’d put together for dinner, eyed her suspiciously. “Did Tony talk to you while I was upstairs before dinner?” When Melanie only looked blank, she relaxed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that—” She hesitated, then decided to make a clean breast of it. “We were actually calling your aunt tonight to see if she might be willing to sit for us for the next couple of weeks.” As they scraped the dishes and began loading them into the washer, she told Melanie what had happened at school that day. “I can’t leave Ryan at home alone, and I can’t take any more time off work. But I certainly can’t ask you to watch him for two whole weeks.”
“Of course you can,” Melanie replied. “Consider it done. Now go up and tuck them in, and let me finish up down here. Then I’m out of here, I promise. I can’t believe I came to say hello and stayed the whole evening. That’s terrible!”
“Actually, it’s wonderful. I’d been having a truly miserable day until you showed up. Now I’m starting to think I might survive.”
“New friends,” Melanie said, giving Caroline a quick hug. “We can all use them, right?”
A little more of the weight of the day lifting from her shoulders, Caroline returned Melanie Shackleforth’s hug, then went upstairs to say goodnight to Laurie and Ryan.
“How are you feeling?” Caroline was perched on the edge of Laurie’s bed, and she reached out to brush a lock of hair away from the girl’s forehead.
“I’m okay,” Laurie replied, but there was a note in her voice that belied her words.
“Think you’re going to be well enough to go to school in the morning?”
Laurie shrug
ged. “I guess.”
Frowning at the listlessness in her daughter’s voice, Caroline laid her wrist against Laurie’s forehead. Cool and dry—no sign of any fever at all. “Is there something else that’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked.
Laurie hesitated, and when she finally spoke her eyes avoided her mother’s. “I’m just—I don’t know. I’m just—” She fell silent again, then finally met her mother’s eyes. “Do you think something’s happened to Rebecca?”
“Rebecca Mayhew?”
Laurie nodded.
“Why would something have happened to her? Did you talk to her today?”
Again Laurie hesitated, but then she shook her head. “I went up to see her, but she wasn’t there.”
“Not there? Where was she?”
“Mrs. Albion said she went to New Mexico.”
“New Mexico? Why on earth would she have gone to New Mexico?”
“Mrs. Albion said she went to visit Mr. Albion’s brother. She said they thought the desert might be good for her. But . . .” Again her voice trailed off.
“But what?” Caroline prodded.
“I don’t know,” Laurie said unhappily. “She didn’t tell me she was going anywhere, and I just saw her yesterday. And then last night I had a dream.” She looked up at her mother, her eyes glistening. “I—I dreamed she was dead, Mom.”
As a tear overflowed and ran down Laurie’s cheek, Caroline hugged her daughter close. “Oh, honey, that doesn’t mean anything—dreams are just dreams. The things we see in them don’t really happen.”
“I know, but—”
“No buts,” Caroline said, easing Laurie back down onto the pillows. “All you had was a bad dream, and I’m sure nothing is wrong with Rebecca. But I’ll tell you what—I’ll talk to Alicia in the morning, and find out. Okay?”
Laurie seemed on the verge of saying something else, but then nodded. Caroline leaned down and kissed her. “You sleep tight, and tomorrow morning you’ll feel much better. And if you have another nightmare tonight, come and wake me up. Okay?”
Laurie slid her arms around her mother’s neck. “I’m scared, Mom,” she whispered. “I’m afraid—”
“Shh,” Caroline whispered. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I promise.” Yet even as she spoke the words, she knew they weren’t true. Brad was dead, and Andrea Costanza was dead, and despite the promise she’d just made, she was certain that there was, indeed, something to be afraid of.
Perhaps Laurie would sleep tonight, but Caroline was already certain that she herself would not.
“I don’t need a baby-sitter,” Ryan said. He was sitting up in his bed, his back against the headboard, his arms wrapped tightly around Chloe the way they had clung to his teddy bear when he was much younger. “And I don’t like her!”
“You hardly even know her,” Caroline said, wishing she’d waited until morning to tell him that Melanie Shackleforth would be staying with him while she went to work. At least that would have let the evening end as peacefully as it had begun. But now the storm in Ryan’s eyes was threatening to break, and she braced herself for it. “She just arrived here today, and we hardly know her, so you can at least give her a chance.”
“Tony knows her!” Ryan blurted out loudly enough to startle Chloe who wriggled free and jumped off the bed. Realizing what he’d said, his eyes widened with fright, and he clamped his hands over his mouth.
Caroline stared at her son. What on earth could he be talking about? How would Tony know her? And even if he did, how would Ryan know? She pulled the boy’s hands from his mouth. “What are you talking about? What makes you think Tony knows Melanie?” Ryan’s face paled, and now Caroline saw fear in his eyes. But fear of what? “Honey, what is it? Did something happen?” Ryan hesitated a long time, but finally nodded, though the movement of his head was so slight that Caroline almost missed it entirely. “What?” she asked softly. “What happened? And no matter what it is, I promise I won’t be mad at you.” She could see uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but then his hands tightened on hers.
“You won’t tell him I told you?” he whispered, his eyes darting around the room as if his stepfather might be lurking in some shadowy corner, listening to every word he spoke.
“Of course not,” Caroline replied.
“I—I snuck into his room one day—that room we’re not supposed to go into.”
“You mean his study?”
Ryan nodded. “And I found an old album.”
“A photo album?”
Ryan’s head bobbed once more. “On a shelf under a table by the fireplace. It was full of pictures—there was a picture of Tony, dressed in old-fashioned clothes. And there was a picture of that woman, too.”
“Melanie Shackleforth?”
“Unh-hunh. And there were a lot of other people too, and all of them were dressed like Tony.”
Caroline searched for an answer. “Maybe they were dressed up for a costume party.”
This time Ryan shook his head. “Tony said it wasn’t him at all. He said it was his great-grandfather. But it looked just like him.”
Several long seconds ticked by as Caroline tried to sort out what Ryan’s words could possibly mean. Even if he’d found an old photo album with pictures of Tony’s great-grandfather in it, why was he so frightened? “Maybe I’ll ask Tony to show me the pictures,” she suggested, but once more Ryan’s face paled, and now he squeezed her fingers so tightly they hurt.
“No! He—he told me I wasn’t ever to touch anything in there again, or even go in that room! And he told me not to tell. If he finds out . . .”
The fear in his voice was so palpable that Caroline wrapped him in her arms, cradling him almost like a baby. “Oh, honey, there’s nothing to be frightened of. You’re not afraid of him, are you?”
Ryan peered up at her, his eyes glistening as brightly as had Laurie’s only a little while earlier. “Just don’t tell him, okay? You promised! You said you wouldn’t.”
Caroline laid a soothing hand on his brow. “And I won’t,” she breathed. She reached down and picked up Chloe, putting her back on the bed next to Ryan. The little schnauzer instantly snuggled up against the boy, whose arms immediately wrapped around her. “I won’t tell Tony, or anyone else,” Caroline promised. “And I promise, there isn’t anything to be scared of.” But as she turned off Ryan’s light a few minutes later, closed his door, and started back down the stairs, her last words kept echoing in her mind.
There isn’t anything to be scared of.
There isn’t anything to be scared of.
There isn’t anything to be scared of.
But no matter how many times she repeated them, she still couldn’t make herself believe them.
There was something to be scared of; she was sure of it.
Tony?
No! It couldn’t be Tony. It had to be something else.
But what?
CHAPTER 26
Caroline walked past the door to Tony’s study three times before she finally stopped. It was early, a little after eight; Tony had left the apartment an hour ago, and Laurie thirty minutes later. Ryan had come down for breakfast, but not until after he was sure Tony was gone, and disappeared back to his room as soon as he was finished eating.
Through it all Caroline had been doing her best to ignore the door to her husband’s study. But the study was the last thing she’d thought about before she had gone to sleep and the first thing she’d thought of when she woke up this morning. Twice she’d almost asked Tony if he’d found Ryan in the musty old room, but both times she’d remembered the fear in her son’s voice when he’d begged her not to tell Tony what he’d said, and even though she couldn’t imagine what Ryan had said was true, she’d still been unable to bring herself to break the promise she’d made to him. But the moment she’d come downstairs that morning the closed door to her husband’s study had drawn her like iron to a magnet, and now, with her husband and daughter gone for the day, and Ryan upstairs in his room, she f
ound herself approaching the door once again. For a long time she stood in front of it, listening to the huge grandfather clock next to the coat rack count the seconds.
What was she waiting for?
Did she think if she stared long enough at the heavy mahogany panel it would somehow turn transparent?
Or was she afraid of what she might find behind it?
But what could possibly be there? It was just a room, its furnishings worn and outdated. But it was the way Tony liked it. It wasn’t as if there was some great secret hidden away in the study.
Her hand closed on the ornate crystal knob, and she twisted it.
Locked.
Had it been locked before, or had Tony only locked it after he’d found Ryan inside the room? She had no idea, except she was almost certain it hadn’t been locked the first time Tony had shown it to her, and obviously it hadn’t been locked when Ryan had gone in. Suddenly the vague sense of guilt she’d felt about invading Tony’s study gave way to an urge to know what was inside, what it was that Ryan had seen that had made Tony lock the room. But where was the key? Or did she even need a key? Since she’d been working at the shop, she’d picked half a dozen locks, most of them on desks, but a couple on large armoires. Besides, there must be keys around somewhere. Going to the kitchen, she quickly searched through the drawers under the counter. The third one down to the right of the sink turned out to be the one that had wound up as the catch-all, and after she’d gone through all the rest, she went back to it, searching more carefully. Nothing.
She moved on through the apartment, glancing at each door as she passed, but none of the locks held keys. She went upstairs, repeating the process on the second floor.
No keys anywhere? But that was ridiculous.
Her curiosity growing, she went back downstairs to the kitchen, reopened the third drawer down on the right, and went through it again, this time looking for something she could use as a makeshift pick. Finding a heavy paperclip, she straightened it out, then used a pair of pliers to bend one end in a short right angle. Going back to the study, she knelt down, inserted the paper clip into the lock, and began feeling for the catch.
