As the front door groaned slowly inward, the bell tinkled spookily overhead, and Ryan slid along the wall and underneath a desk. Icy trickles of sweat chilled her, and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shaking.
The silence went on … on …
And then the feet began to move. Slow, deliberate steps upon the creaking floorboards.
They passed right beside her hiding place.
Terrified, she saw his boots, not ten inches from where she crouched.
And then the voice came …
One she knew …
“Hi, this is Marissa …” And it was Marissa, her voice—real and laughing, fuzzy and faraway—“but I’m not here …”
“Marissa,” Ryan whimpered, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, not sure if she’d spoken aloud or only in her fear-crazed mind—
The footsteps stopped.
He can hear me, I know he can, he must be able to—
And then … in the deathly quiet … the trains started up … slowly at first … then faster … faster … little engines chugging … tiny whistles blowing … around and around—
From some forgotten corner a baby doll cried in a tinny, mournful wail—“Ma … ma … ma … ma …”
The mechanical Santa Claus burst into insane laughter.
Ryan could see the wild eyes of the carousel horses—nostrils flaring—My God, they’re alive, they’re moving, I can’t get out—
Sick with terror, Ryan clamped her hands over her ears and curled herself into a ball. They were coming closer now, all the toys … skates crashing into the wall … a top spinning crazily past the desk …
If I try for the door, maybe I can make it—maybe he won’t hear me—
Ryan took a deep breath and ran.
She never expected the door to be jammed.
Oh, God—something’s wrong with the lock—
As she frantically twisted the handle, she cast a desperate look back over her shoulder. Is that him—moving in the corner? By the dollhouse? Near the tree? She couldn’t see anything now—just black, murky shadows—but he seemed to be everywhere—everywhere—and nowhere—the trains faster and faster—the Santa laughing and laughing—
Without warning the elves started singing their Christmas carols … but on low speed, demons’ voices …
“Help! Let me out!”
She hammered on the glass and screamed, trying to shut out the unearthly sound of Marissa’s voice—“I’m not here … I’m not here—”
The tree lights blinked on.
A baby carriage started rolling toward her across the floor.
Glass shattered as Ryan’s fists went through. Her hands were slippery on the latch, and as it finally gave, she stumbled out onto the sidewalk.
She never looked back …
Just raced widly toward the corner, leaving a trail of blood behind her in the snow.
Chapter 17
Her mother wasn’t waiting for her.
As Ryan looked frantically up and down the empty sidewalks, she thought she heard the bell over the toy shop door.
“No—no—”
She felt as if she were trapped in a recurring nightmare—running once again through the dark streets, snow clouds covering the stars. The only light came from a few sputtering streetlamps and the sign in the Coffeehouse window—CLOSED.
If I can just get to the gas station—Winchester—how many more blocks? Four? Five? She began to think she’d gone the wrong way when she suddenly saw it up ahead—the pumps, the group of boys hanging around the garage—
“Jinx!” she gasped. She saw the faces turn toward her as one, Jinx looking up from under the hood of a car, his cheeks stained with dirt.
“Get outta here,” he said gruffly. “Don’t you ever get tired of chasing after me?”
She heard the snickers around him, and she saw him start to grin, but as she stepped forward into the light, everyone seemed to freeze.
“Jinx—” she began, and why is he looking at me that way, why are they all staring at me like that—
“Somebody call the cops,” one of them said, and for the first time Ryan looked down.
There was blood everywhere.
She didn’t have a jacket on, and there was blood on her sleeves, on her white sweater, on her jeans. Blood was running down her wrists, and there were dark red spatters around her feet.
“Holy sh—” Jinx came around the car. “Does somebody have a rag? Quick, someone, bring me a rag!”
“You better get her to a doctor or something,” someone else spoke up, and Ryan realized they all sounded so scared, as scared as she suddenly felt—
“I … I did this,” she said stupidly, holding up her hands, and as the boys exchanged wary looks, Jinx was suddenly grabbing her arms, binding them together in a towel.
“God, McCauley,” he murmured, “get in the car.”
She felt him shoving her into a front seat, heard him slamming a door—
“You’ve got to go back there!” Ryan told him. “I left the door open—Mr. Partini trusted me—”
“What are you talking about?”
“The toyshop! The toys were after me, but he was there—he did it—”
“Who? Mr. Partini? Who did what?”
“No, I couldn’t see him—I couldn’t see anyone, I just heard Marissa—”
“She’s nuts,” someone said and snickered, and Jinx leaned out the window.
“You shut up! And you—” He turned back to Ryan and stared.
“She said she wasn’t here—but it was her voice—What’s wrong with you?” Ryan broke off. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
“Just quit talking,” Jinx said. “Here.” He tossed her his jacket and hit the gas. “And don’t bleed all over the seat—it’s not my car.”
As streets and intersections whizzed by, Ryan realized they were running lights and stop signs, and she looked over at Jinx’s stony profile.
“You know you can’t afford to get any more tickets,” she scolded weakly. “You better slow down.”
“Don’t talk to me, McCauley.”
“I couldn’t stand it, Jinx, I just couldn’t stand it anymore—I was so scared—”
“Okay, okay, I hear you—but—but did you have to do this?”
“I didn’t realize—it was the only way out—I couldn’t go back—”
“Just be quiet. Look—here’s the hospital.”
Ryan reached for her door, but Jinx already had it open, and he rushed her into the emergency room. In the bright, clean light, Ryan was surprised to see dark stains oozing through her towel, and as a nurse whisked her away, Jinx stood there, looking lost and confused.
“I’ll call your mom, okay?”
Ryan could see him waving at her, but the pain was starting now, and she felt as if someone else’s hands had gotten mixed up with hers. “No, don’t call her! Don’t leave me!”
“I’ll be right here!”
What followed was a blur—white uniforms … questions … more pain—and through it all Ryan kept trying to tell them, to make them listen, but they just kept looking at her hands and then at each other with secretive looks, making her be quiet, making her sleep.…
“But you don’t understand,” she kept telling them. “It was the only way—nobody would help me—”
And the nods … the reassurances … the slipping away of time …
“Ryan? Honey, can you hear me? We can go home now.”
Ryan stared at the pale green ceiling, and it seemed she’d been staring at it forever. She knew her thoughts had wandered, even though her eyes had been open all this time. She turned her head and saw Steve’s and her mother’s anxious faces.
“Why’d you do it?” Mrs. McCauley asked, her voice rising, but Steve put a hand on her shoulder, and she cut off with a guilty look.
“I had to get out,” Ryan said. Her voice was thick, and she wanted to sleep. “I had to get out. That’s all. It was the only way.” Why do
es everyone keep asking me that? I keep telling them, but they’re not listening.…
“It’s my fault,” Mrs. McCauley whispered, and she reached for Ryan’s hand.
“No, it’s not,” Ryan mumbled. “I was just waiting like you said.”
She saw her mother and Steve exchange blank looks.
“What’s she talking about?” Mrs. McCauley whispered again, and again Steve patted her shoulder.
“Come on, Leslie, save it for another time.”
Ryan stared at them, frowning. Strong arms helped her into a sitting position, and her head spun.
“How about a little ride?” Steve smiled.
“Only if I don’t have to drive.” Ryan got into the wheelchair, and Steve pushed her out into the lobby. To her surprise Jinx was still there—and with him Phoebe, Charles, and Winchester, who all stopped talking and stood up when they saw her. She stared at them in confusion. She suddenly felt angry, but wasn’t sure why.
“Why are you all here?” she asked. They’re still doing it … everyone’s still looking at me so funny.…
“Oh, Ryan,” Phoebe whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I—”
“Phoebe, I’m fine, really, just a scratch.” For the first time Ryan looked down and saw the bandages on her hands and wrists.
“Come on, Ryan,” Mrs. McCauley said softly. “Let’s just get you home.”
And then, without warning, Ryan’s anger turned to fear, and she grabbed Steve’s hand and tried to stand up.
“But I don’t need to go home! I’m fine! As a matter of fact, I’m hungry! Can’t we all go out and get pizza or something? Jinx?” She looked wildly from face to face, each pair of eyes lowering in turn, refusing to meet her accusing stare. “Jinx?” she said again. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with everyone? What’s—”
“You can see everyone later,” Mrs. McCauley said, and Steve gently forced Ryan down again. “After you’re better—after you’ve had a chance to—”
“Leslie,” Steve interrupted. “Let’s not talk about it now, okay? We agreed …”
Ryan tried to look back as Steve and her mother settled her into the car. “Where’s Charles?”
“He had his car, and we came in mine,” Mrs. McCauley said, trying to calm her.
“But why—why didn’t he come with you?”
“He was supposed to pick you up. He was going to bring home hamburgers for dinner, and Steve asked if he’d mind getting you at work on the way.”
“But you called. Why weren’t you there?”
Her mother was looking at her as if she expected Ryan to attack her at any minute. “But I didn’t call. I asked Charles to call. Ryan, what does it matter who came in which car or who called—”
“You weren’t there. Charles wasn’t there.”
“Charles said he waited for you, but you never showed up. So he went to the shop and found the glass in the door broken. He was afraid there’d been a robbery, and he couldn’t find you, so he called the police—”
“And in the meantime Jinx had called us,” Steve picked up, “so we called the police, too, and the police called Mr. Partini—”
“Was the man in the store when Charles went in?” Ryan sat forward, her voice tight, pleading.
“Ryan, please, you’ve got to calm down—”
“The man, Mom—”
“What man? Ryan, what are you—”
“I need Charles,” Ryan mumbled. She could see him standing outside the hospital talking to the others, and she lunged across her mother’s lap to the window.
“Charles! Did you see the man! When you went into the toy shop, did you see the—”
“Ryan.” Steve tried to pull her away. “Come on, kiddo, get back in the car—”
“No! Charles! Did you see him! Tell me you saw him!”
“Ryan, stop it!” Mrs. McCauley grabbed her and blocked the window. Steve hurriedly backed the car up and drove away.
“I need to ask him,” Ryan whispered. “I need to talk to Charles … you don’t understand …”
“Yes, yes, as soon as we get you home. Hush, now.”
Ryan felt sick. She could see her mother and Steve exchanging looks over her head, and she choked on hot, burning tears.
“Almost there,” Steve said cheerfully. “Almost home now, Ryan.”
“A nice warm bed, won’t that be nice?” Mrs. McCauley sounded peculiar, too cheerful, too strained. “I’ll bring you some broth, you’ll like that, won’t you?”
“Why are you doing this?” Ryan murmured. “Why are you being so nice to me? I’m perfectly all right.”
“Of course you are,” her mother said quickly. “We know that, don’t we, Steve? And you’ll be even better once you see—”
“Leslie.” Steve shook his head warningly, and Ryan stared at him. Something in the back of her mind sensed a change that she wasn’t going to like, but she was too exhausted to care.
Mrs. McCauley and Steve got her upstairs into her mother’s bed, and though Ryan kept protesting, nobody seemed to hear.
“You just take this medicine,” Mrs. McCauley kept saying, “and when you wake up, we’ll talk. When you feel better, we’ll talk.”
“I feel fine,” Ryan insisted unhappily. “I want to sleep in my own room.”
“You’ll be fine in here,” Mrs. McCauley said anxiously, smoothing Ryan’s hair back from her forehead. It was something she hadn’t done in a long, long time, and Ryan suddenly felt like crying. “And Charles is in your room, don’t you remember?”
“Of course I remember. And where is Charles? I’ve got to ask him about the man.…” Ryan’s eyelids drooped, and Steve and her mother shimmered, ghostly shadows. She tried to tell them, but they seemed to be growing dimmer, fading away from her. “Tried … to kill me,” she mumbled.
“But we know you didn’t mean it, Ryan.…” Her mother’s voice, down a long, dark tunnel. “We know you didn’t, honey.”
Mean what? Ryan’s brain was all fuzzy, and she couldn’t seem to concentrate. Mean what—to get away from that horrible stranger—to break down the door so I wouldn’t die in there?
“Yes, I did,” Ryan murmured. “Yes, I did mean to do it.”
She thought she heard her mother crying, and then she slept—a fitful slumber of painful memories and haunted nightmares. Wild-eyed Santas chased her through streets that led nowhere, and every time she turned a corner, there stood Marissa, with blue skin and wide eyes, one arm pointing accusingly—“I’m not here … I’m dead …”
In the dream Ryan screamed and finally managed to wake herself up. She was drenched with sweat, and as she reached up to pull back her hair, she realized her hands wouldn’t work, and she couldn’t remember what had happened. Squinting into the dark, she tried to focus and saw a movement by the window.
“Marissa?” she murmured. “Marissa, what are you doing in my room?”
The figure barely stirred. Ryan thought it whispered to her, and she tried to sit up.
“Marissa … what is it? Why won’t you talk to me?”
She leaned forward, her eyes widening, and the phantom moved again, coming nearer the bed.
“Don’t scare me like that, Marissa, don’t scare me like that!”
Ryan flung back the covers and blinked as the light came on, as her mother came into the room and pushed her gently back into bed.
“It’s only a dream, honey, you’re safe, don’t be afraid—”
“Something moved there, Mom, by the window—”
“Curtains, that’s all it is—ssh—”
“But my curtains don’t look like that—”
“I know, honey, you’re in my room, remember?”
And she did remember then, about everything that had happened, and she fell back upon the pillows with a groan.
“My hands hurt, Mom.”
“I know, but they’ll be better soon. Here—take this medicine. Try to sleep now.”
“No—Marissa’s here, Mo
m, in the room with me—”
“You only dreamed it, Ryan. Marissa’s not here.”
“No … I remember … Marissa’s dead. I killed her.”
“Oh, Ryan …”
The darkness hid Mrs. McCauley’s face, but Ryan could tell her mother was crying. She heard the door click shut and then a lowered exchange of voices just outside in the hall.
“I really don’t think I should leave you like this,” Steve’s voice, serious and concerned. “The doctor said she’s just about over the edge as it is.”
“Of course you have to leave. It’s so important for you—”
“Not as important as you and Ryan. Come on, Leslie, there’ll be other chances. Suppose something happens and you need me—”
“No.” Mrs. McCauley’s voice, firm and stubborn. “You’ve been praying for this opportunity, Steve—we both have. It may not come again. I want you to go. I know Ryan would, too.”
“I’m not leaving. It’s a terrible time to even think—”
“If you don’t, I’ll never speak to you again. I mean it. Look, Charles is here if I need anything. And I have lots of friends to help. For goodness’ sake, you’ll only be gone a few days—how much can happen in a day or two?”
“It looks to me like a hell of a lot has happened already.” There was a guilty pause, and Steve’s voice grew quieter. “Then at least let me change my flight. Let me wait till tomorrow.”
“Absolutely not. You know we can’t depend on the fog in the morning—and you need to get there on time!”
“I’m only thinking of Ryan … of what she’s been through—”
“And I’m thinking of Ryan, too,” her mother said sadly. “How’s she going to feel when this gets out?”
Ryan frowned, straining her ears to hear. What’s she talking about?
Steve sighed. “There must be something we can do.”
“Nothing we can say is going to stop all the gossip. Especially this kind.” Her mother sounded hurt. “There she is, lying in there confused and in pain, and I’m not helping her. I’ve only been thinking of myself!”
“Come on, Leslie … you’ve both been through a hell of a lot.”
“Yes, but I’ve had you to lean on through all this, and she’s been alone. I just didn’t realize she was so fragile!” Mom’s voice broke, and she began to cry again. “And by tomorrow it’ll be all over town … everyone will know that Ryan tried to kill herself.”
Fatal Secrets Page 13
