Ferguson shook his head. “Me, neither.”
The three men cut through the costumed revelers, checking the various doorways. Ferguson sounded the alert.
“There he is!”
The mirrored room. Monsters surrounded abductor and captive at the other end. Strobes flashed. Bodies and limbs moved in seemingly slow motion. A slimy creature dripping with fake moss threatened Uriah. The nightmarish scene turned even more so as the groundskeeper struck out with the knife and the kid screamed and grabbed his shoulder. More screams followed from witnesses who quickly moved out of the maniac’s way.
Indicating the wounded kid, Bram called, “Roger!”
”Got it!”
Echo’s brother-in-law dropped behind to take care of the crisis. But Ferguson was still with him as, second guessing the groundskeeper again, Bram cut through the wind tunnel, jumped a barricade and headed for the corridor leading to the third concealed staircase back in the coal bin.
“Uriah, you can’t get away!” Bram shouted when he spotted them.
“And you can’t take the jewels!” Ferguson added.
Jewels? That’s why Ferguson had tagged along? To retrieve the damn diamonds rather than to save a woman whose life was in danger?
Working on instinct, Bram whipped around, fist closed and swinging. He decked the bigger man, and without pausing, completed the circle and drove toward the doorway that was even now closing in his face. Desperate that he not be locked out, he shoved his left arm through the quickly narrowing opening, only to have it smashed. Hard.
Biting back the pain, Bram pried the door open with his good hand and steadied himself until the instant nausea receded. The wounded arm felt odd. Maybe useless.
“You can let me go now,” he heard Echo plead breathlessly from above. “I’ll stop him from coming after you. I promise.”
“Get real. You’re my ticket outta here.”
“No!” Bram yelled. “Take the jewels and leave her!”
Ignoring the wooziness still plaguing him from the combination of head injury and possible broken arm, Bram pushed himself upward, each stair jarring him with new pain. He heard Uriah pass the butler’s pantry on the first floor. The linen closet on the second. The attic on the third. Their footsteps still echoed down to him.
The groundskeeper was heading for the trap door that would let them out on the roof
The realization strengthened Bram’s determination. He finally had regained his past— he wasn’t about to lose his future. He had to get to Echo, to save her before it was too late. Using the narrow metal repair ladder secured to the back of the building, Uriah wouldn’t be able to keep his hold on her. There was only one other way down, and Bram figured the villain was sadistic enough to let her use it.
A vision of Echo falling to her death clear in his mind, Bram gritted his teeth and forced himself to move faster.
URIAH JERKED ECHO through the opening, then slid the hatch back into place. Her stomach fell as she looked down, unable to see the walkways below. Clouds played hide-and-seek with a tired moon, and fog crawled up the sides of the building, presenting the illusion that they were much closer to the ground than she knew them to be.
One false step and Dunescape Cottage would be doubly haunted.
A gust of wind slapped at her, clearing her mind, renewing her energies. The occasional rumbles announcing a coming storm were drawing closer. The storm inside her had subsided, however. She was calmer now, even though Uriah’s cruel fingers were still tangled in her hair. Her scalp might be numb, but her mind wasn’t. It was working. Against him. He didn’t know that. He was holding the knife almost casually, as if he thought she was no threat.
More fool he.
“Get a move on,” he growled.
“I-I can’t. Too tired,” she fibbed, making her voice sound weak and trembly.
“Then I guess I gotta drag you is all.”
Lightning crashed nearby, and for a moment Echo could see clearly. They were on the highest of the several varied-level roof peaks typical to a Victorian cottage. This and the closest peak directly below both supported the derelict weather vanes she’d seen from the walkway.
Could she make that single-story jump without hurting herself on the pointy rusted metal pole? Maybe if she were very careful. And if she did, then what? Another drop to another peak and she’d still have a far way to get to the ground she couldn’t see.
Meanwhile, Uriah was as good as his word. He was pulling her across the slanted roof toward the chimney. She surreptitiously used her own considerable strength to slow him. Not certain of his intentions, she figured she’d better act fast. Feigning clumsiness, she purposely stumbled, taking him off balance. He let go of her hair and threw out both arms to regain his equilibrium.
Echo sprang forward, shoving his knife-arm hard. When he swung around with her weight, his wrist whacked the chimney. The knife dropped, skittering along the slate shingles and catching in a gutter.
“You bitch!”
He grabbed for her but she ducked out of his way. Her foot slid out from under her and she went down hard. Panting, she half-rolled, half-crawled out of his reach. He refocused and tried to retrieve the knife.
“Take the damn jewels and get out of here!” Echo yelled above the rising wind.
Back on her feet, she searched for the section of roofing secreting the staircase. No light. The moon was all but hidden. She wasn’t even certain she would be able to find the hatch in broad daylight.
“Not until I take care of you first,” Uriah threatened. “I don’t like mouthy women who interfere with my plans!”
She continued to move around the roof, watching as his hand connected with the knife. “I won’t make it easy for you,” she promised.
“You won’t get away from me!” he thundered, straightening, weapon in hand, as a section of the roofing in front of her began to move.
Knowing it had to be Bram, Echo inched back further, yelling, “I thought you wanted to be a rich man!” hoping to keep Uriah’s attention on her until it was too late. “The longer you wait, the more likely you’ll be caught.”
Uriah hesitated and the hatch opened completely. The clouds scattered, the moon revealing Bram as he climbed out. Echo had never been so glad to see anyone in her life... until she realized his left arm was dangling at a funny angle. He was hurt. Dear God, that madman would have the chance to kill them both.
“Bram, back inside!” she cried, hoping they could both get away before Uriah reached them.
Between her and the madman, Bram wouldn’t listen. He faced his father’s murderer. “You should have gone while you had the chance, Uriah. Now it’s too late.”
The groundskeeper laughed and advanced on them. And though Echo pushed at his good arm, Bram stood his ground. Suddenly the sky split in back of Uriah, and for a moment, Echo thought she was seeing double. For behind the groundskeeper stood a dark-garbed man, his full sleeves billowing in the wind, his thick black hair furling across his forehead. His angular features were twisted into a grimace of hatred.
“Donahue!” she yelled, his appearance filling her with hope.
“Think I’d fall for that one?” Uriah asked.
But when Bram froze and stared, too, muttering, “Father?” the groundskeeper got visibly nervous and glanced over his shoulder.
Lightning crackled and split the sky into a giant puzzle, the central figure of which was the threatening ghost of Dunescape Cottage himself. His scowl aimed at Uriah, Donahue moved toward the groundskeeper, who dropped his knife, twisted around and tried to back off.
“No, not you! You’re dead!”
Uriah’s feet tangled with one another and he did a little dance on the edge of the roof. Then one foot plunged over the side. Desperate to regain his balance, to save himself, he waved his arms about, managing to look like a puppet out of control.
A gust of wind was his undoing. Like a giant if invisible finger, it popped him over the edge. In slow motion, he fell, lim
bs waving, torso twisting, mouth opening in disbelief.
“A-i-ee!”
The sound pierced the night as sharply as the weathervane’s rusty point thrusting completely through his chest and impaling his black heart. Lightning struck again, this time connecting with the weathervane. Electrified, his limbs jerked in a macabre midair dance.
Averting her eyes, Echo caught one last glimpse of Donahue Vanmatre, who smiled at her and at his son, looking as if he had finally found some rest, before melting into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“YOU NEED SOME REST, Echo. You can’t keep going like nothing happened,” Izzy nagged at her when she showed up at Dunescape Cottage the next afternoon.
Volunteers were already sweeping through the house, some filling garbage bags with refuse and the disposable decorations, others packing up the props.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Echo admitted as she began replacing knickknacks in the parlor. “And I couldn’t sit around the house doing nothing but thinking about it, either. Besides, this is my responsibility.”
For many of them, the night had stretched long after the nightmare ended. Echo replayed the scene in her mind’s eye. Authorities arriving. Shocked spectators standing in a downpour as the body was removed from the weather vane. The police taking custody of the jewels and then questioning everyone involved.
“I can’t believe what was going on right under my nose and I didn’t even guess,” Izzy complained.
Echo started guiltily. “Hard to believe they all played a part in the crimes.
The only selfless one had been Lena, who had known all the house’s secrets and had been protecting them and her mistress for thirty years.
“Priscilla Courtland is certainly in shock.”
“She couldn’t fathom her husband having an affair with her little island maid.” Echo had thought the portrait of Grover had looked familiar. His granddaughter had the same mole, the same sly eyes. “He’d covered by sending their love child away to be raised by Letitia’s aunt.”
“Letitia obviously had no choice or she wouldn’t have made a pact with that devil, Norbert Ferguson.
“She figured her share would be adequate compensation for bearing and being forced to abandon Grover’s daughter. Throughout the decades, she’d never stopped talking about the jewels, and Sibyl had grown up thinking of them as her inheritance.”
Echo found the silver-framed photographs of the Vanmatre twins. She stared down into Donahue’s image so like his son’s.
It had been nearly daybreak before Bram had been whisked off in an ambulance so his wounds could be tended to. Though she’d wanted to go with him, she’d felt obligated to see to the Haunted Mansion’s closing. Much of the crowd had remained for the entire spectacle. And now she was back to run the clean-up detail.
“You haven’t seen Bram, have you?” she asked her sister.
“Ah, so that’s it.” Izzy grinned. “About time you met Mr. Right.”
“Hardly. We don’t have anything in common.” Just the opposite, actually. “I wanted to know how he was.”
“Sorry, I haven’t heard. The dour-faced housekeeper let us in and then disappeared. I haven’t seen Miss Addy or the nurse, either. It’s like this place is inhabited by ghosts or something.”
Ghosts.
Echo couldn’t help thinking about Donahue as she worked. Had his vindication finally freed him to go on to another spiritual plane? At dusk, she found herself outside the library. Knocking. No answer. What had she expected? She opened the door anyway.
A deep, seemingly empty gloom met her eyes, reminding her of the first time she’d entered the room. She stepped inside, her gaze penetrating the spooky atmosphere, touching on the walls of old books. But, also like the first time, she wasn’t alone.
Over in the furthest, deepest recess of the room, flames danced and crackled in the massive fireplace. And before the hearth one of the leather chairs was occupied. Settled along the wing was a man’s arm draped by a full black silk sleeve.
“Donahue?”
Ever-so-slowly, he turned in the chair and peered out at her. Deep set eyes framed by thick black waves met her steady gaze. But though today they no longer seemed haunted, his expression was neither welcoming nor disapproving.
He seemed to be... waiting. Again.
“I wanted to say good-bye,” Echo told him. “Actually I had hoped you’d already be gone. I thought maybe with Uriah Hawkes dead and the jewels recovered... well, I hoped that since you’ve been vindicated, you might be happy at last.” She smiled. “I guess Miss Addy would miss you, though.”
“So you won’t be coming back?” he asked softly.
“I-I don’t know. It doesn’t seem likely. I mean, Bram told me he loved me, but his life is in Chicago and mine’s here. And he really doesn’t approve of me anyway.”
“You’re wrong. The question is, do you love him?”
“With all my heart.”
Her eyes widened as she suddenly realized Donahue was speaking to her. For the first time. While she’d often felt his presence and had seen him several times, he had never said a word, not even at the seance.
And something didn’t feel right. That sense of presence, of otherworldliness, was missing. Her emotions surged and she backed toward the door. “You’re not . . .”
“Not so fast!”
When he shot out of the chair, she made a run for it, but he was quicker, slamming the door and resting his back against it. His left arm was secured against his body in a sling and she noticed the bruising on his forehead.
“Happy you made me look foolish?” she asked, glaring at Bram.
He ignored the peevish question. “Tell me about the ‘with all my heart’ part.”
“There’s nothing to tell. You’re leaving.”
“Who says?”
“But your law practice—”
”I can commute on the new ferry service across the lake until I decide to open an office in this area.”
The statement practically took her breath away. “And you’ll live here, in this house?”
“Until I get a better offer.” His gaze mesmerized her as he said, “A neat cottage in a forested area with a wood chip walk sounds appealing. Know any place available that fits the description?”
“Maybe.” Her heart was thundering. With emotion. And a new kind of fear. “But what about Miss Addy?”
“After I hire a new nurse, we’ll see. She was telling me how much she loved having people in the house again. I’ve been thinking this place would make a spectacular Bed and Breakfast. All that loot in the basement can be converted to cash to pay for repairs and taxes. Yep, who could resist a lakeside Victorian mansion complete with an eccentric mistress, not to mention its own ghost?”
Echo realized her mouth was open. Bram did, too. He feathered his fingers around her neck as he took advantage of the fact and kissed her soundly. He stole what little breath she had left.
Ghost.
But was there one? Echo wasn’t certain any more. The room really did feel different. Lighter. Less troubled.
Or maybe it was her own heart.
For Echo knew she had finally met a man she could not only love, but one she could trust. With her heart. With her life. With her sanity.
Not that she was worried about that issue anymore. Her mother had been fragile, too easily pushed over the edge into a nervous breakdown, but she hadn’t been insane. And Echo realized her own fear of losing her mind and therefore control over her own destiny had grown out of a strong identification with Mama and being traumatized by her grandparents’ actions.
So when Bram broke the kiss and asked, “Do we have a chance to make a life together?” Echo put her entire being into her answering smile.
“If I have anything to say about it, we do.”
“I love you, Echo. With all my heart,” he added, echoing her sentiments. “I never thought it would happen, that I could feel like this. You’ve given me a chance at a real
life. You’ve banished my ghosts.”
“We did that together. You. Me. Donahue.”
Bram nodded. “He tried helping me long ago in the attic after his murder. He appeared to me then, but I was too scared to want to believe what I was seeing. I wiped the memory away. I wonder if I wasn’t responsible for trapping him here.”
“I think there were greater forces at work, Bram. Like the need for vindication. He has that now.”
A frantic banging startled them away from the door that popped open, hiding Bram from the intruder’s view.
“Auntie E, come quick!” cried an excited Jason. “We’ve got the ghost cornered in the butler’s pantry!”
Echo narrowed her gaze and surreptitiously kicked Bram’s ankle. “But that’s impossible, because the ghost is right here.”
Jason peered around the door to see Bram glowering at him. “Aah!” Her nephew jumped.
Then Echo pulled Bram by his good arm, revealing the sling. “Gotcha!” she said, and for once had a good laugh at her prankster nephew’s expense.
HE LOVED THE WAY their laughter made the walls sing with happiness again. And this time when they left the room, it didn’t feel empty and dead.
Echo St. Clair had brought life to this house. To this room. To his son.
He’d lived his own life to the fullest for thirty-seven years before it had been cut short. Bram was now thirty-seven. But, cheated by the past that had haunted him, he’d never really lived at all. Not until now.
He only hoped Bram would never make the mistake he had , to put anything or anyone before the woman he loved. As his twin, Adrienne had been part of him. But in the end, their interdependence on each other had stolen happiness from them both.
Emotions he’d forgotten he’d once had surfaced as he realized he was ready to leave Dunescape Cottage behind. As Echo had said, he’d been vindicated.
It was time to move on.
oOo
HOT CORPSE
A Det. Shelley Caldwell Short Story
Patricia Rosemoor
DANGEROUS, Collection #1 Page 40
