The Secrets of Sinclair Lodge

by Lucia N Davis

  Outside of the lodge, there was little respite to be found. David still wasn’t back to his old, vibrant self, which annoyed him to no end, and made him difficult to hang out with. On top of that, he was busy helping his mother clear the last things of his grandfather’s out of her house. David was struggling with it all, but Sara decided he had to find a way through it on his own. Whenever he wanted to meet up, Sara pretended to be busier than she really was. Her presence would only distract him from dealing with his problems.

  On the day of Margaret’s departure to Rome, Sara swung by to say goodbye. David had offered to bring his mom to the airport, but Margaret had already arranged a ride with one of her friends. Sara suspected she was growing tired of her son’s continuous stream of well-meant advice. He was still unhappy about his mother leaving, but at least they appeared to have come to an understanding about it. When it was time to wave her off, David gave Margaret a long hug, the tiny woman disappearing in his arms.

  “Please take care of yourself, Mom.” He bent forward and placed his forehead on hers. “Call me if you need anything. Anything. Promise?”

  Margaret kissed his forehead, standing on her tippy toes. “I promise. Was it really that long ago that I said the same words to you? Funny.” She squeezed his prickly cheeks. “By the way, you should shave. You look like a vagabond.”

  She hugged Sara next, whispering, “Be patient with my boy, will you? He misses Pops.”

  She got into the car. “Bye, kids. I’ll say hi to Rome for you.”

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” David called after her.

  She laughed as she leaned out of the window. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, David Phineas Sanders.”

  Once Margaret was out of sight, David walked Sara back to her car.

  “Phineas?” Sara asked, suppressing a smile.

  “Not a word…” David warned.

  By the fifth night of murderous nightmares, Sara had had enough. The next afternoon, she saw the local doctor, and after telling a sob story about raging insomnia—without revealing its true origin—she returned with a bottle of little white miracle pills. That night, she popped two of them into her mouth, and soon she had drifted off into a blissfully dreamless state of unconsciousness that lasted long enough to send her headache packing and clear her mind of the cobwebs it had been accumulating over the past few days. In the morning, she retrieved her smile from wherever it had been hiding and bounded down the stairs in search of her pupil.

  The atmosphere in the hallway downstairs brought her to a dead halt. It was more oppressive than usual—a suffocating stillness with the friendliness of shark’s teeth. Sara shivered and quickly made for the kitchen. Lauren was unhappy today—that was putting it mildly. Maybe she didn’t like sleeping pills as much as Sara did.

  Sara poured herself some coffee, managing to spill only a few drops, while Cassie watched her in silent resignation, paper towel already in hand.

  Bailey was seated at the table, eating oatmeal. “We have to work in the living room today,” the girl said with her mouth full. “Cassie wants to clean.”

  Sara sat down next to her. “Oh, that’s—that’s fine. We can work there. As long as we have enough light.”

  Of course, it wasn’t fine. Something had sparked Lauren’s temper. The living room was Lauren’s domain, and therefore the last place in the house Sara wanted to be right now.

  Sara managed only a few bites of her breakfast, the anticipation of facing an angry ghost a heavy weight in her stomach. The fact that Bailey would be there as well eased her concerns a little. Maybe the girl’s presence would alleviate some of Lauren’s discontent? With leaden feet, Sara followed Bailey into the living room, which for once was well lit—the curtains were open wide. Cassie must have prepared the room in advance, Sara thought. A fire was on in the gas fireplace, sending friendly flickers their way. It should have been warm in the room, but it wasn’t. Bailey didn’t seem to notice, although she did move closer to the fire.

  The cold hostility emanating from the room was hard to miss, at least for Sara. Lauren’s mercurial temper frightened her; there was a certain bitter edge to the anger. Swallowing away her misgivings about being in the living room, she focused on Bailey’s lesson. They worked in silence until something snapped—and Bailey cussed. She threw her pencil down.

  “Ugh. My pencil broke. You have a sharpener?”

  Sara refrained from commenting on Bailey’s choice of words and quietly shook her head.

  The girl sighed and got up. “I’ll look around. There might be one in one of these drawers. I don’t really want to walk all the way up.” She went over to the shelves, which had a few drawers at the bottom, and rummaged around loudly in what appeared to be a collection of junk. “Found crayons,” she called over. She kept digging. “And some coins, lots of papers, and… a sharpener!” Instead of leaving the drawer, she peered into it. “Oh, look at this!” She held up something shiny. “It’s less heavy than I remember.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s my crystal ball.” Bailey got up, bringing her treasure along.

  “Crystal ball?” Sara stretched out her hand. “I could use one of those.”

  Bailey laughed. “I swear, I forgot all about this thing. I used to play with it for hours. It’s not really a crystal ball—it’s not even a ball, actually. I’m not sure what it is. It was my mom’s, I think…” The recollection weakened her smile.

  “Here, let me see,” Sara said gently. Bailey placed it on her open hand. The weight of the object surprised her—her hand dropped an inch. It was almost a ball, but a small part of the bottom was flat. She tapped on it. “It’s a paperweight,” she explained. “You can use it to secure a stack of papers, to keep them from blowing away.”

  Bailey shook her head, pulling a face. “Why would anyone need that? That’s useless.”

  Sara blinked at the girl’s appalling lack of imagination. Then again, Sara thought, for someone growing up in the digital age, it probably would seem useless. The paperweight was beautiful, and she could see how it had captured the girl’s fancy in her younger years. The transparent glass held a swirling mass of colors—ribbons of blue, gold, and green. An occasional bubble floated within the spectrum of colors. “It’s pretty…”

  Suddenly the ball moved, and before Sara could close her hand, it rolled off and landed on her right foot with a sickening thud.

  “Oow!” she yelled. She grabbed her foot, tears pricking her eyes. “That hurt!” Bending over, she gasped for air and let out a stream of spicy words far worse than the one Bailey had used earlier. Her foot pulsed.

  Bailey rose quickly, saying, “I’ll get some ice,” and vanished from the room.

  Sara gritted her teeth, seething. “You nasty—” She didn’t finish her sentence, afraid Lauren would retaliate further. “That was so unnecessary! I’m trying to help you. You think breaking my foot will make me more inclined to do so? Damn, lady. Get a grip!”

  She carefully peeled the sock off. A big bruise was already spreading over the top of her foot. Carefully she wiggled her toes and winced. It hurt, but it didn’t feel like the toes were seriously injured. She turned her foot in circles. Moving her ankle felt okay. Then she placed her foot on the floor and tentatively put some weight on it. She yelped. Frustrated, she leaned back on the couch. “Now see what you did? I can’t walk, you idiot. How am I supposed to solve your murder?”

  Lauren didn’t answer. But the room seemed to warm up a smidgen.

  Bailey came back with an ice pack, which she draped ceremoniously over Sara’s foot before positioning the foot on the coffee table. She giggled, apologizing profusely. “Sorry, Sara, but you’re just such a klutz. Who drops something like that on their foot?”

  Yeah, who indeed? Sara thought grumpily. Okay, maybe she was a klutz, but this wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t dropped that paperweight, just as she hadn’t been knocking over photo frames.

  “Whatever,” she snapped. “Why d
on’t you focus on your schoolwork.”

  Still snorting with laughter, Bailey went back to her seat. “You should probably have someone look at that.”

  She’s right, Sara realized. Something could be broken. Like she didn’t have enough accidents on her resume. She sighed. “I don’t think I can drive.”

  “That’s okay,” Bailey said cheerily. “We can ask Nick.”

  Sara could think of nothing she’d like to do less than ride alone with the gun-toting gorilla-man. She nodded. “Let’s give the icepack some time, shall we?”

  While Bailey worked, she observed the fallen paperweight on the floor, sparkling in the light of the fire. She reached down and grabbed it, this time clutching it securely. Turning it around, she read an inscription on the bottom.

  For Lauren

  One down, two to go

  Summer

  She placed the paperweight back on the table. Now that was interesting. A little ominous in the current circumstances, though it could be completely innocent. Still, she wouldn’t mind a hint as to what it meant. She gently rubbed her chilled foot. There was no doubt in her mind Lauren had meant to hurt her, but maybe the object she’d chosen wasn’t random; the inscription definitely pointed to Summer.

  Later that day, when Bailey was out skiing, she asked Nick to drive her to the urgent care. She would have asked David, but he was busy all afternoon. As Nick helped her to the black Jaguar parked outside, she remembered the other night in the parking lot. The license plate! How had she forgotten? One glance told her all she needed to know. She stiffened against Nick’s support, wanting to run away as far away from him as possible. This car had been parked outside of David’s apartment building, and he had been driving it. Nick had been following her—but why? Had Preston asked him to spy on her?

  During the ride, Nick didn’t speak much, but was generally polite. Since she was incapable of bearing weight on the injured foot, he had to help her out of the car and inside the urgent care facility. This was more physical contact than Sara desired. In fact, when it came to Nick, any amount of physical contact was too much. The hard bulge on his chest pressing against her shoulder was giving her goosebumps. She wondered if he had followed her to other places—and what about those cameras he mentioned, the ones she still hadn’t been able to locate?

  To her relief, her foot wasn’t broken. It was an impressive blue color and very painful, however. When David called later that afternoon to ask if she wanted to go skiing, she declined, trying hard to keep the glee out of her voice. Unfortunately, skiing was out of the question for a few weeks. She declined his offer to pick her up also. Although she much preferred his company to any of the inhabitants of the lodge, she was tired, in pain, and in need of rest. David protested, but when she wouldn’t relent, he promised to pick her up the next morning.

  Cassie made a big fuss—she set Sara up the kitchen and kept her fed. When dinnertime arrived, only Preston and Bailey showed up. A little surprised at Ruth’s absence, Sara inquired after her whereabouts.

  “I gave Nick and Ruth the weekend off,” Preston said. “I normally do, but the last few weeks were a little unusual. They just left.”

  It hadn’t occurred to Sara that Nick and Ruth probably wanted a few days off. “That makes sense,” she said. “Can you manage without Nick?”

  “I hired Nick for the benefit of my late wife, and Bailey. I never saw the need. But he’s handy to have around. Surprisingly enough, though, I can handle life without him.”

  Sara took that last sarcastic comment in stride. “Yes, of course you can. I wasn’t implying you couldn’t.”

  “Thank you for that vote of confidence.” Preston smirked a little. “More pasta?”

  “No, thanks. Cassie’s given me so much food today I’m afraid my good leg won’t carry my weight anymore.”

  Bailey snorted. “Fat chance of that…”

  Preston gave her a disapproving glance.

  “What?” The girl shrugged. “It was a compliment, really.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I’m done. Going upstairs to play Xbox. See you later.”

  Before Preston could offer a rebuke, she had left the kitchen. He shook his head. “That girl. I don’t know what to do with her.”

  He seemed to think Sara might have a better idea, which caused her to shrink in her chair. Her foot was throbbing, and now he was looking for parental advice? “I don’t have kids,” she said lamely. “My guess is you just do the best you can, like everyone else.”

  “True.”

  “You could spend more time with her. Like join her and play the Xbox…?”

  “Play Xbox?” A naughty gleam flickered in his eyes. “Not sure she’d like that. She hates to lose.”

  The shift in his usual demeanor threw Sara off. Preston sure was relaxed this evening. “Well, you get my meaning. I really should lie down and put my foot up. Have a nice evening.”

  If she had anticipated an elegant exit, she had underestimated her injured foot. Nick had brought her crutches, but he had left them in the hallway. She limped heavily for a few steps before Preston came to her rescue.

  “Here, let me help you.” In one swoop he lifted her smoothly off the ground and carried her into the hallway.

  Startled, Sara found her face alarmingly close to his. “Really, there’s no need. I have crutches,” she squeaked, but Preston wasn’t easily dissuaded.

  “It’s no problem. You’re not that heavy.”

  He was surprisingly strong and seemed to carry her easily. He must really be using that gym, she thought. His scent was light and just a touch musky. She suddenly felt very warm—if Preston got the wrong idea, this could become really embarrassing.

  They arrived at the stairs, and he proceeded to climb the steps as if he carried injured women on a daily basis. She hoped he didn’t, because fumes of anger were converging at the base of the steps. Lauren was not amused. Although Preston was Lauren’s ex-husband, a woman scorned did not easily forget—apparently even when she was dead, Sara thought. She felt the hatred following them up the stairs. Panicked, she gripped Preston tighter.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t drop you,” Preston reassured her.

  “Good to know.” Sara smiled like she just came down with a toothache. He seemed to have good hold on her, but then, he wasn’t aware of his furious late wife breathing down their necks.

  Inside Sara’s room, he placed her gently on the bed. “There you go. You need anything else?” He sat down next to her on the bed.

  “My crutches would be nice,” Sara managed to say, trying to ignore the sensation of doom approaching her bed.

  “Sure, I’ll bring them up.” Preston gave no sign of wanting to leave, however. “You know, I’ve been thinking… you’ve done incredible work with Bailey. She’s much friendlier lately, and she seems to really like you.”

  “Um, thanks. She’s a sweet girl.” The temperature in the room was dropping.

  Preston kept going. “I’m very happy we found you to fill in.” He patted her hand a little awkwardly.

  “Me too.” She grimaced. “Uh, Preston, I really need to use the bathroom, so… you know, my crutches?”

  He got up. “Of course, just be a moment.”

  A little afraid, she watched him leave, hoping the moment wouldn’t be too long. As she feared, Lauren stayed behind with her. Sara felt her closing in.

  “I have no interest in him, you know that, right? He was just being friendly,” she whispered.

  Sharp icicles poked her skin, and her hair was yanked back so forcefully, it brought tears in her eyes. “Please stop,” she whimpered. “It hurts.”

  But Lauren had no intention of letting go. She pulled harder. Sara yelped. If this continued, she would have no hair left. Her scalp was screaming.

  “Stop! Or I’ll leave and you can solve your own murder!” She was breathing heavily now, trying to keep from crying out.

  Lauren let go. Trembling, Sara sat up and glanced down at her pillow, where blond s
trands of hair were spread out like a fan. She brought her hand up; her hair was standing out like someone had taken a brush and performed a giant backcomb. It still crackled from the static electricity. She palpated her scalp and winced. That woman was not to be trifled with. She looked again at the hairs on her pillow. She could not recall ever being physically hurt by a ghost before. In fact, she had never really entertained the possibility—David had, of course, but she had always brushed off his concerns. She now wished she had accepted David’s offer to stay at his place.

  The sound of Preston’s footsteps warned her he was on his way. She quickly combed down her hair with her fingers and looked around the room. It seemed Lauren had retreated. Regardless of whether she had believed Sara, Lauren had left her with a firm warning: stay away from my ex-husband, or else.

  Chapter 16

  The two girls are sitting on the floor of what looks like a dorm room. Half of the room is a complete mess, with clothes, makeup, and magazines strewn about, while the other half is as pristine as a soldier’s quarters.

  Summer is wearing a cute, flowery summer dress, whereas Lauren has on denim shorts and a dark-blue tank top.

  “Come on, Lauren, it will be fun!” Summer says. “Later in life we can look back on this and have a good laugh.” She giggles.

  “Speak for yourself, Summer. I know exactly what I want out of life.” Lauren sniffs loudly.

  “Well, I don’t. And you just think you do.” Summer nimbly jumps up and grabs a pencil and paper from a small table. “I’ll go first.” She moves a bottle of vodka, which they have obviously been enjoying, and starts scribbling on the paper, occasionally chewing on the back of the pencil.

  Lauren falls backward on the floor with an exasperated sigh. “You can’t be serious. I can’t believe I’m going along with this silly idea of yours.”