“You okay?” I asked.
“It’s a book,” she said, pulling something out from in between the sheets. She picked it up and felt the edges.
“This jabbed my shoulder.”
“A kid’s coloring book,” I said, staring at the faded and fraying cover.
Katy opened it.
“Victoria,” she whispered as she followed the childish handwriting on the first page with her fingers.
“Wait,” I said, “where did we hear that name before?”
“Didn’t Mrs. Robinson say it was the girl’s name?” Tetyana asked, scrunching her forehead.
“The nine-year-old,” said Katy, nodding. “The kid they sent off packing to the insane asylum.”
She turned the pages, flipping through colored drawings and collages of animals, people and planets. It was an activity workbook, a scrapbook of sorts.
“Mrs. Robinson wanted us to see it,” I said. “That’s why she put us in here—”
“Oh, my gosh!” cried Katy, her hand flying to her mouth.
I peered at the page she’d flipped open to.
We’d passed the printed pages and were now on the blank ones with space to create your own drawings.
“What the frigging hell?” said Tetyana, as she peered over her shoulder.
It was a crudely drawn picture of a stick woman. She was lying prone on the ground. Her mouth was upside down and a liquid, drawn in red ink, was seeping from her neck.
Above her body, floating in the air, was an oversized knife dripping with blood.
Chapter Fifteen
It was a child’s drawing, but it was clearly a murder scene.
Katy flipped the page.
We stared at the next diagram. It was a picture of a female stick figure hanging from a tree.
“Sickening,” said Katy as she turned the page.
This time it was a female decapitated body. As in the first drawing, a knife floated over the girl or woman, hanging ominously above the headless body, bleeding into the paper.
“Disturbing,” I said, trying to imagine what would make a nine-year-old create such monstrosities.
“Is this why they locked her up?” whispered Katy as she flipped to another page.
“Oh, my god,” she said.
Instead of another hideous drawing, the page was filled with squirrely, childlike handwriting. The words, “I hate this place,” were written over and over, line after line, covering the entire blank page.
“A call for help,” said Tetyana, shaking her head.
Katy snapped the book shut and leaned back against the headboard with a grimace.
“This is so sick.”
I sat on the bed next to her and put my chin in my hands. I’d seen a lot in my life, but this was difficult to swallow.
“Kids aren’t born this way,” I said. “Something must have happened to her.”
“Something in this house,” said Katy, looking up at the ceiling as if it would have the answers she was looking for. “You know how I thought this house looked so romantic?”
I nodded.
“I’ve changed my mind. This place gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
“Me too,” I said, shifting on the bed to lean against the headboard.
“Oh!” I said, feeling something lumpy under the sheets. I moved to the side, bumping into Katy. “Hey, I think there’s another book under here.”
“Out, you two,” said Tetyana, snapping her fingers.
Katy and I scrambled out of the bed just as she whipped the comforter away. Nothing. She ripped off the top sheet, making the pillows fall to the floor. Still nothing. Finally, she pulled out the fitted bottom sheet.
We stared at the large brown envelope sitting snugly on the mattress.
“Mrs. Robinson sent us on a scavenger hunt,” said Katy.
I leaned over to pick it up, opened the envelope and felt inside.
“Papers,” I said, pulling out a stack of neatly folded sheets of paper. I threw the envelope on the mattress and unfolded the stack.
It was regular printer paper and someone had used them to photocopy letters.
Mrs. Robinson’s hate mail.
“Whoa,” said Katy, swiping the top sheet from my hand. “This is exactly like the one she showed us. Look. Same handwriting in all caps.”
“These were copied recently,” I said, feeling the crisp paper.
“She could have told us about these,” said Tetyana, frowning.
“Barry interrupted us, remember?” I said. “After that, there was always someone else around so she couldn’t speak freely. She put them here for us to find them.”
“Why didn’t she point them out to us when she brought us here?” said Tetyana. “She had ample time to talk to us and there was no one around.” Her trained eyes swept the room. “Unless someone’s installed wiretaps here, and that was what silenced her.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much?” I said. “This is the stuff of Agatha Christie, not Robert Ludlum.”
“Guys,” said Katy, who’d been staring at the paper in her hand. “You have to see this.”
I peered over my friend’s shoulder.
Katy read the letter out aloud.
“You won’t be alive for too long, old woman. I’m going to get you soon. I’m going to cut your throat, like I told you I would.”
Just like the horrid picture in the child’s book, I thought, feeling nauseous.
Katy took the second paper from my hands and read it out loud.
“I thought you were my friend. I thought you were family. But you’re just another nasty old hag who has betrayed me. If I could, I’d hang you.”
Whoever sent these letters must have read the diary.
Katy shot me a horrified look before unfolding the third paper and reading it out loud.
“I hate your guts. But I guess you knew that. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be the one who’ll send you to your grave with your head cut off. Sleep tight. Nighty night.”
“Gosh,” I said. “They’re ugly.”
Katy threw the papers on the bed with a disgusted look on her face.
“That’s the lot. Plus the one she had on her today,” she said. “Someone really mean lives in this house.”
“Mean?” said Tetyana. “Psychotic.”
“And criminal,” I added.
“Poor Mrs. Robinson,” said Katy.
“Anyone in the house could have sent these,” said Tetyana, thoughtfully. She turned to me. “Are you sure you saw a white dust in the envelope?”
“Some was caked on the paper.” I turned to Katy. “Didn’t you notice it too?”
“I was too busy thinking of the nasty message. You were the one holding the letter, remember?”
“Any idea what it could be?” I asked, turning to Tetyana.
“I can think of a few possibilities,” she replied. “Russian intel agencies use ricin in letters to enemies. Remember the Anthrax letters after 9/11. That would work. If you really want to get someone, even regular ant poison powder would do the trick, if administered over time.”
We stood speechlessly around the stripped-down bed, trying to grasp what we’d discovered.
“Do you guys think this has anything to do with the daughter in the asylum?” asked Katy finally.
“If the girl hadn’t been locked up, I’d have suspected her first,” I said. “The drawings are eerily similar to the threats in these letters.”
“Why would she send these to Mrs. Robinson, though?” asked Katy.
“Your hunch is as good as mine.” I paused. “Did Mrs. Robinson say if that girl got out of the hospital?”
Tetyana shook her head.
“Didn’t mention it, but she could have got out or escaped.”
Katy gave her a wide-eyed look.
“You think the girl’s in the house?”
Tetyana shrugged.
“Lots of hiding spots in this old place.”
A sudden creak somewhere made Ka
ty and me jump. Tetyana stiffened, her hand immediately going toward her holster.
We stood silently, listening.
But the house had gone quiet again.
“Was someone listening in, you think?” I whispered, pointing at the door.
Tetyana stepped over to the door and examined the wood.
“Solid oak. Made when they used to build them right. Not the thin plastic things they put in apartment complexes.”
She pulled her gun from her holster and turned to me.
“Back me up.”
I walked over and positioned myself behind her. I pulled the gun she’d given me and aimed it at the door.
“Ready,” I said.
In one swift movement, Tetyana unlocked the door and pulled it open, her side arm aimed forward.
I peeked out.
There was no one.
After checking the corridor, Tetyana closed the door and bolted it.
“Probably a wall panel or a floorboard contracting,” she said, holstering her weapon. “It’s getting cold in here.”
“That was weird though,” said Katy.
I looked at my friends, suddenly realizing who we’d overlooked.
“Nancy!”
“What about her?” asked Katy.
“She’s the only one close to the girl’s age now. She came here with Jim a few months ago and I’m sure she was lying about coming from Iowa.”
“Very fishy,” said Katy, nodding. “She could have come back to take revenge for something that happened to her when she was a kid.”
“Or she could be truly mentally ill,” I said, gesturing at the book lying on the mattress. “That would mean there would be no rational reason for her actions other than whatever demons are plaguing her.”
“Whoever it is,” said Tetyana, “we have to stop them.”
Katy and I turned to our friend.
“We can’t rule out the option that this girl is not Nancy,” she said.
“Someone else we haven’t met yet?” I asked, feeling a tinge of fear.
“Potentially hiding in the house,” said Tetyana.
Chapter Sixteen
“Freaky,” said Katy with a visible shudder.
“There’s only one way to find out for sure,” said Tetyana. “We check all the rooms tonight, one by one.”
Katy’s eyes widened.
“You want to go barging into a room that might or might not have a death-threat-letter-writing crazy person inside?”
“I survived a Russian torture camp before I turned eighteen,” replied Tetyana in a deadpan voice. “Besides, didn’t we go after those gangsters and make them pay? We survived, didn’t we?”
“That was a long time ago. We were young. We didn’t have a choice.”
“You’re getting soft,” said Tetyana with a friendly jab at Katy’s arm, “you’ve become a suburban housewife.”
“Nothing wrong with suburban housewives,” grumbled Katy. “I like my safety and I’m a mom, not like you two. I have to think of Chantelle.”
I shot a look at Tetyana that said, Don’t argue.
“I’m not asking you to come with me, Katy,” said Tetyana. “I’d prefer you sit tight, right here in this room with the bolt on.”
Katy grimaced.
“Then we sit up all night, biting our nails, worrying about you.”
“It’ll be just you this time. Asha’s coming with me. I’ll need backup.”
I sat up.
“Count me in.”
“So now I’ll be sitting here all alone, worried sick about both of you?” wailed Katy.
“For frigging sake,” said Tetyana, “we’ll be scouting for a mentally unstable young woman, not an Islamist fundamentalist terrorist group.”
“You’ll be safe here,” I said to my friend. “And we’ll be fine. We’ve been on more dangerous missions.”
Katy shook her head, unconvinced.
“Those gangs were organized and we could predict their actions. But this girl...” She looked down at the open book. “She’s kooky as heck. And that mother of hers? She’s quiet, but there’s something sinister about her. I’d swear, there’s a lot wrong with this entire family. It’s like a bad horror story waiting to happen.”
“That poor woman is probably more lost and muddled than anything else,” I said. “It’s sad any way you look at it.”
“I can’t shake this feeling someone’s out there to get us,” said Katy, gloomily. “Maybe someone in this house knows who we are.”
“Peace said they don’t know about the will,” I said. “This has the feel of an internal family affair. A secret haunting them from the past.”
“When are you two planning on starting your jaunt?” asked Katy.
“In one hour,” said Tetyana. “Once everyone settles in for the night, we’ll check all the rooms.”
“They could have locked their doors,” I said.
“A lock has never stopped me.”
“Barry’s going to make a ruckus if he’s up and about,” I said, wondering if Katy was right. I was beginning to feel this excursion was getting away from me. “We need to be careful, Tetyana.”
She nodded.
“We’ll take the fire escape to the kitchen and check out the rooms near Mrs. Robinson’s first. From there, we’ll move from the east wing to the west, floor by floor. They’ll all be sound asleep by then.”
“What if they wake up and find us in their rooms?” I asked. “We’ll have to have a darn good story.”
“I’ll zap them with my memory-erase laser stick.”
“You have one of those?” said Katy with a shocked gasp.
Tetyana smiled.
“I wish. The only people who’d invent it would be the CIA or the Mossad. If they have, maybe I can convince David to wrangle one from them.” She turned to me. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
Great.
She paused and threw a critical eye over the pant suit I’d been wearing all day.
“Might want to get your gear on. You’ll be able to make a faster getaway if needed.”
Double great.
I trod over to my suitcase on the floor of the closet and pulled out the small plastic packet from the back. Normal people threw their swimsuits into their luggage in case there was a pool at their destination. In the same way, I threw in my mission clothes regardless of where I was going, a habit from years ago.
“While you two are roaming around, I might as well check this room,” said Katy, making the bed again. “Who knows what else we’ll find here.”
I pulled out my black yoga tights, unmarked black T-shirt, black boots, and a thin Kevlar vest, which looked like a harmless hiking jacket you’d get from any department store.
Tetyana had got us tailor-made Kevlar vests the first month we’d arrived in New York. Though we’d escaped our captors and were safe in this new country, we knew we had to be prepared for the unexpected.
All fugitives do.
I hadn’t realized I’d need to use my vest again.
I changed and slipped the gun into a compartment in my vest. A surge of adrenaline went through me as I felt the bulge of the weapon next to my ribs.
I smiled to myself.
Maybe Madame Bouchard knew me more than I knew myself. Maybe she had concocted this game for us.
I had no desire to return to a life of fear. I didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat again. I hated running from city to city, country to country, wondering when we’d get caught or assassinated. And I never wanted to fear my loved ones getting hurt, kidnapped, or murdered anymore.
But a secret part of me yearned to feel that wild rush again. That fired-up, red-blooded feeling of being alive, despite every danger.
Katy was right.
We’d become comfortable. Too comfortable. I was ready to get back into action.
I swaggered over in my mission gear to help Katy, who was now going through the bookshelf.
While Tetyana checked the bathroom, the walls, the carpet and even the ceiling for anything suspicious, Katy and I pulled the books down, one by one. We flipped through the pages to see if we’d find more letters, drawings or other clues.
An hour later, Katy and I stared at the children’s books jumbled in a pile on the ground, disappointed by the wasted effort of our search.
Tetyana had also found nothing and was now scanning the grounds through the open window, getting a lay of the land.
I walked over to join her.
The girl’s bedroom was at the end of the east wing and had windows on both the front and the side. The window looking toward the front of the house was shut and curtained. But the side window was angled so that if we leaned out, we could see part of the grounds. That was where we were.
I placed my arms on the windowsill and looked out. It was almost one in the morning and a frosty chill had settled around the house. It was eerily quiet outside.
The exhaustion of the day was slowly catching up to me. If we were going to check the house that night, I’d have to be fully alert. I gave my arms and legs a good shake, stretched, then leaned outside to take a deep breath of that cool mountain air, when Tetyana pulled me back roughly.
“Duck!” she hissed.
I dropped to the floor, startled.
“What is it?” whispered Katy. She’d been sitting on the bed, cross-legged, flipping through the child’s activity book.
Tetyana leaned toward the window to peek out again. Burning with curiosity, I rose from my corner and joined her.
Silhouetted against a lamppost in the driveway was a lone dark figure. It reminded me of the shadow I saw in the woods and I let out an involuntary shudder.
“Did they see us?” I whispered.
“Negative,” said Tetyana, “they’re facing the other direction.”
“Who is it?” whispered Katy urgently.
“There’s someone out there,” I whispered to my friend.
“Who?”
“Could be anyone. Looks like a man.”
Tetyana peeked out from her side of the window again.
“He’s on the move. Near the barn now.”
Her eyes widened. Tetyana was never one to get surprised.
“They waved,” she whispered.
Merciless Legacy: Merciless Murder - A Thrilling Closed Circle Mystery Series Page 8
