She stops and listens, but there’s nothing to hear except her own heartbeat, steady in her chest.
She grasps one corner of a sheet draped over the nearest bulky mass and pulls. Slowly at first, then faster, it slides to the floor with a hiss of fabric over fabric.
Her flashlight illuminates a settee with carved wooden trim that curves over the back, framing a heavy red brocade upholstery. There’s a rip in one cushion, but otherwise it’s in reasonably good condition, considering the circumstances.
Tessa drops onto the seat and turns her light outward, seeing the house from a new perspective. What would the place have been like when it was alive with the energy a family brings?
She closes her eyes, pulling Kitty’s blanket more tightly around her, and tries to imagine it. The still silence of the house is contagious. That sense of bated breath. Of waiting.
For the first time in days, her swirling thoughts settle. She considers the Donnellys, distant in their cabin. Kitty with her kindness. Deirdre prickly and reserved. Their older brother, Aiden, a mystery as of yet, who left to see the world as a young man, then found his way back. A circle completed.
Family. Home.
Tessa’s eyes are heavy. Her own family is small now, with Margot at the center whether she chooses to be or not. Her sister, whose first thought when learning about this place was to sell it.
“Leave it in the past, just like Mom did.”
But sitting here, with so many questions still unanswered, she’s not sure she can agree to that. For the Donnellys, this isn’t the past, this is their home. Their lives.
And if Tessa is sure of one thing, it’s that she’s done playing around with other people’s lives.
An incessant booming pulls Tessa, cramped and disoriented, from the sleep she fought against for so long.
Wings beat in darkness. The booming surrounds her, filling her with dread. A giant stumbling closer through the woods. An angry mob beating drums and chanting. “Burn the witch! Burn the witch!”
She bolts upright, struggling against the confusion of waking in a strange place. Her eyes are drawn to a dimming half circle of light that shines on the bottom steps of a curving staircase, and everything comes flooding back.
She jumps from the settee and the blanket falls around her.
Again, the booming comes, but now that she’s free of her dreams, it’s more an insistent pounding, and it’s coming from the front doors.
Accompanying the noise is an angry voice shouting her name.
“Tessa! Tessa, I know you’re in there.”
Tessa stumbles to the door, but it doesn’t move when she pulls on it. She pulls harder, refusing to panic when it still won’t open.
“Just a minute,” she shouts as she fumbles around in the dark. “It’s stuck.”
Tessa grips the large brass door handle with both hands and braces herself. With a giant heave, she yanks. It gives way, and Margot, apparently shoving from the other side, falls into the room.
Her sister catches herself and leans her hands against her knees. Her head swings around and she sends Tessa a dark look from beneath the curls that have fallen into her face.
“Tell me something, Tess.” Margot’s words are deceptively quiet after making such a ruckus. “Have you actually lost your mind?”
Tessa gives her a small smile. The sight of her sister, angry or not, lights up a vacant space inside her.
“If I’d known you were coming, I’d have tidied up,” she says.
Margot blows the hair out of her face and straightens, glancing around. Even in shadows, Tessa can read the way her posture stiffens. “The only reason this place is still standing is because there’s a hundred years of spiderwebs holding it together,” she says.
“How did you know I was here?” Tessa walks to where the flashlight emits a weakened beam and scoops it up. It must have slid from her grip when she’d fallen asleep, but the batteries are low now.
“I called ahead and rented a room at the B&B where you were supposed to be staying,” Margot says distractedly. She reaches out and takes the flashlight from Tessa’s hands. “When I checked in, the owner told me the room was free because she’d had a last-minute cancellation.”
“Cancellation? That old bat kicked me out, then rented my room to you?”
Margot shrugs. “I guess she liked me more.”
Tessa rolls her eyes. “I guess she would. Sending the police after me didn’t help her opinion much.”
“Oh, I heard all about it. She’s not exactly a fan, so I didn’t mention that you’re my sister. I assumed you’d driven back to a larger town and rented a room, because that’s what a sane person would do, so I went to bed, planning to catch up with you in the morning.”
Margot walks slowly around the room, shining the dim light into dusty corners and shaking her head in disgust.
“So why drive all the way out here?” Tessa asks.
Margot sighs and turns the light on her. “Because, Tess. I woke up in the middle of the night and sat up in my soft, warm, clean bed, and suddenly remembered that you’re not sane. You’re a complete lunatic, especially when you have some idiotic new project stuck in your head.”
Tessa squints and holds up a hand to block the light Margot’s shining in her eyes. “This isn’t a project. Not like you’re thinking.”
“Oh yeah? Then why am I completely unsurprised to find you here? You could have at least slept in the car, Tessa. Why in God’s name are you camping out inside this horror show?”
Oddly defensive, Tessa glances around. “It’s not that bad.”
Margot raises an eyebrow. Okay, so it’s pretty bad. She considers admitting she planned to stay in the car and fell asleep by accident, but that probably won’t help her case.
“It’s not like—” Tessa stops short, realizing something glaringly important she’s overlooked. “Wait, you’re supposed to be under police protection. What are you doing here, Margot?”
But her sister is shaking her head, one finger raised to block that line of discussion before it has a chance to start.
“No,” she says. “No way. You don’t get to lecture me on my choices, not when you’re hanging out in a haunted house, alone, while a murderer with a grudge is making threats against you. Where’s your protective detail, huh?”
“That’s different.”
“It’s not different.”
“Okay,” Tessa concedes. “So it’s not different, but that doesn’t answer the question.”
Margot raises her hands, then lets them drop. “What did you expect me to do, Tess? Hang out at Mom’s and knit while a policeman stood guard?”
“But what about—” She stops.
Margot glances at her sharply, then fills in what Tessa didn’t say. “What about Ben? I’ll deal with Ben when I’m ready and not a minute before. You won’t make me, Ben won’t make me, and Oliver Barlow certainly won’t make me.”
It’s not her place to get in between her sister and her husband, but she already put herself there, then carelessly drove this wedge between them.
“Margot,” Tessa says softly. “Ben loves you.”
Margot turns away from her. “Love isn’t always enough. You and I both know that.”
Tessa did know. Year after year of silence taught her well.
“Tessa, this place . . . staying here . . .” Margot lets out a deep sigh. “It’s insane, even for you. It’s a rathole. It’s falling down around your ears. There’s clearly no electricity. I don’t even want to think about plumbing, and the cell signal is absolute shit. You’ve probably got fleas already, and you’ll be lucky if that’s the worst of it. Bubonic plague comes to mind.”
Tessa opens her mouth to tell her she didn’t intend to stay, but she’s not entirely sure that’s true. It doesn’t matter, though. Margot isn’t done.
“I saw the look on your face when you found that photograph. I won’t bother trying to talk you out of this, but you’re not staying here by yourself.”
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Tessa’s mouth falls open, but a small ray of hope flickers to life, and her shock gives way to the tentative beginnings of a smile.
“Stop smirking. This doesn’t mean I don’t still think you’re crazy, and it doesn’t mean I’m speaking to you.”
By now the darkness outside has begun to lighten with the coming dawn, and Tessa’s eyes have adjusted to the low light filtering into the room.
“Be nice, or I won’t share my fleas with you.” Tessa can just make out the twitch of Margot’s mouth as she tries not to laugh, and it feels like a gift.
26
Life with Margot, as Tessa comes to think of it over the next few hours, has some drawbacks.
For one, her sister has no intention of letting her go back to sleep.
“There’s too much to do, starting with a list. I’ll drive into Snowden later and pick up some cleaning supplies and something non-flea-ridden to sleep on.”
The flashlight finally sputters out just after dawn, but by that time, Margot has enough light that she doesn’t even break stride.
“And batteries,” she mumbles, scribbling on a shopping list that keeps getting longer.
“We’re not moving in. This is temporary,” Tessa points out, but Margot waves her off.
“I hate to admit it, but staying here might not be the worst thing. We could get rooms someplace farther away, but someone is bound to recognize you.”
“Me? No,” Tessa objects, but Margot gives her a look over the top of the notepad she pulled from her purse.
“You haven’t seen the news, then. This has blown up, and you’re right at the middle of it.”
“But . . .”
“There are only so many facts they can rehash, Tess, and you’re a big question mark. You haven’t made a statement, no one knows where you are, and there’s speculation about your motives.”
“My motives?” Tessa whispers.
Margot lowers the notepad and studies her reaction. “If the press can’t find you, Barlow can’t either,” she says almost gently. “Speculation is the price for that.”
Tessa frowns. She’s accepted that there will be repercussions for her actions, but the idea that she’s suspected in conjunction with Oliver nauseates her.
She glances around, searching for her phone, then remembers tossing it into the passenger seat of her car the night before.
“I need to get some air,” she says, not quite able to meet her sister’s eyes.
Margot watches her go without comment.
The sun has risen fully in the sky now, and when Tessa opens the front door, she finds someone has been there. A thermos sits on the edge of the porch with a note tucked beneath it.
Tessa picks it up and reads the message written in a thin, spidery scrawl.
I don’t know how you like your coffee, so I’ve taken a chance on a bit of cream and sugar. Come by the cottage when you’re ready. The least we can do is offer breakfast and a chance to freshen up.
We’ll answer your questions as best we can.
Bring your friend.
The note isn’t signed, but Tessa knows who wrote it. She calls out to Margot that there’s coffee on the porch, then walks to her car and retrieves her phone.
No signal.
It’s Pennsylvania, not the Gobi Desert. Surely there’s a cell tower somewhere nearby. She holds the phone above her head, but nothing changes. Tessa glances around, searching for higher ground. A morning mist lingers in the air, and she sees a hill to the left of where she stands, about a hundred yards away. Behind it, the forest waits, partially shrouded in fog.
Tessa wanders in that direction, one eye on the bars on her phone. She wanted a place to hide, and she found it. Fallbrook may have been forgotten somewhere in the last century, but the world continues to spin, and it’s spinning a narrative that makes her uneasy.
She trudges up the gentle slope until she crests the hill. Tessa marvels for a moment at the sight. Fallbrook in the morning has a new palette. Gray and white, with bits of green hidden within the mist.
It’s breathtaking.
Tessa’s phone vibrates in her hand as the outside world at last connects. She shivers, and regrets leaving Kitty’s blanket behind, but opens the screen of the little device, determined to discover the state of the world she’s temporarily left behind.
Anne has forwarded links to several news articles, and Tessa scans the headlines.
Barlow Hints at Filmmaker’s Complicity
Shepherd Drops from Public Eye
What Does Tessa Shepherd Know?
Text messages roll past, many from Anne, which range from panic to frustration and back to panic again.
Tessa clicks on one to reply.
Out of town, lying low. Will catch up soon.
She should check her email, but another text catches her eye, nearly buried in the rest.
It’s from Ben.
Margot is gone. Neither of you answering phones. You owe me, Tessa, and I’m calling it in. Need to know she’s safe. Call me back!
Guilt, her new constant companion, churns in Tessa’s belly. She does owe Ben, owes him more than she could ever repay, and if he’s leveraging that, something he’s never done before, he’s no doubt sick with worry.
She taps the contact on the screen and holds the phone to her ear as it dials.
Ben picks up before the first ring has finished.
“Tessa, Jesus Christ, where are you? Is Margot with you?”
His voice is a sharp and tangled mass of accusation and concern. She’s known him for most of her life, and she’s never heard him like this.
“She’s here. She’s safe,” Tessa says. “She drove up last night, but the reception is terrible and—”
“Drove up where?” he demands, cutting her off. “First the police show up, then Margot comes home from Jane’s and throws things in a bag, and the next thing I know she’s gone. Barlow is after you, Tessa. I don’t want her in the middle of this mess. Goddammit, put her on the phone.”
“Ben, I can’t,” Tessa says. “I’m outside and—”
“Tessa, I put a lot on the line for you, out of friendship and because I care about you and because I knew, whether your sister wanted to admit it or not, that she did too, but I swear to God, if you don’t put my wife on the phone—”
Tessa can hear the desperation in his voice. She turns, knowing the signal won’t hold until she gets back to the house, but she has to try.
She gasps and takes a step backward. Ben is shouting now, but Tessa drops the phone from her ear, struck by the hurt and pain on Margot’s face.
Her sister is standing only feet away, arms crossed, with fresh betrayal in her eyes.
Tessa holds the phone out toward her.
“Talk to him,” she pleads, but Margot shakes her head, refusing.
Tessa’s shoulders drop and she raises the phone jerkily back to her ear, unsure what to do now.
“Ben, I have to—”
But he’s still talking, quickly, desperately.
“—if that’s really what she wants, I won’t fight it, but a divorce won’t change how I feel. I just want to know she’s safe, Tessa. I need to hear her voice.”
Tessa’s eyes widen and she stares at Margot, her sister’s face set in a hard, unforgiving lines.
Divorce?
“Ben, she’s safe, I swear,” Tessa says hoarsely into the phone. “I’m sorry, I have to—”
Margot closes the distance between them and holds out a hand. Tessa gives the phone over willingly, but instead of speaking to her husband, Margot ends the call without a word.
She turns and walks away, and this time, she’s walking away from more than just Tessa.
There was once a time the three of them were inseparable. Margot, Tessa, and Ben. Now they’re shattered and separate, scattered like the broken shards of an old clay pot.
27
KITTY
Bits and pieces of a broken lullaby rattle around in Kitty’s head. She does
n’t mind. When the words are missing, she hums the melody until the next piece falls into place.
“For goodness’ sake, would you stop that racket,” Deirdre snaps.
Kitty hums louder, and Deirdre sighs in a great, dramatic puff of breath.
“Oh, quit,” Kitty says. “You’re acting like someone put the weight of the world onto a saddle, then strapped it to your back. It’s only breakfast.”
Deirdre places a lid onto a pan of sausages with a clatter and glares at her. “Breakfast for someone who could sell our home from underneath us. Have you considered that?”
“Of course I have,” Kitty says. “But I don’t think Tessa would do that.”
“And you’ve managed to gain this deep insight into her character how, exactly? And what about her sister? Honestly, your silly optimism is irritating.”
“Optimism never hurt anything,” Kitty says. “We don’t know their plans yet. There’s no need to get in a twist about something that might not happen.”
Deirdre opens her mouth to argue, but a knock on the door interrupts and her jaw clamps shut. She turns back to the sausages. “Your guest has arrived.”
Even Deirdre’s black mood can’t dampen Kitty’s spirits. She has an idea, a beautiful idea, one that came as she woke this morning, bursting upon her like the sun through thunderclouds.
Kitty reaches the door with a bright smile on her face and opens it wide. Tessa is standing on the porch, holding the borrowed blanket folded neatly in her hands. A few steps behind is another woman, a woman with a striking resemblance to Tessa, if one were to look past the riot of blonde curls.
It brings to mind the paper dolls Kitty had as a child. Indistinguishable from one another, they came with a choice of clothing and hairstyles to fold over the top, held by paper tabs. The tabs eventually wore out and fell away, so Kitty had chosen her favorite looks and painstakingly glued them in place.
“Kitty, this is my sister, Margot,” Tessa says, glancing over her shoulder to make the introduction. The other woman smiles at Kitty, but pointedly ignores Tessa.
The Caretakers Page 13
