by Kathi Daley
“I’m not supposed to buddy up with him, but it would seem odd if we didn’t chat if we’re the only two people walking in a direction. Our interaction is supposed to seem natural and casual.”
“I guess that makes sense. But if Mike doesn’t turn out to be the stalker, who are we suspecting?”
I bit my lip. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to find a way to come at this from a different angle if Chance can prove Mike isn’t the person we’re looking for.”
I glanced at the field, where the boys were doing sprints. Trevor wasn’t only a talented quarterback but fast as well. I knew there were a handful of colleges courting him. Again, it made me sad that in less than a year Trevor would be going off to a college with an awesome athletic program and Mac would be heading to a college with a top-notch academic program, and I would be … I had no idea where I’d be. What I did know was that our awesome trio was going to come to an end and there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it. I supposed the loss of a high school gang was inevitable even if you weren’t stuck in witness protection. And maybe it would be easier to deal with that reality if I felt like I was working toward my own glorious future instead of wondering if I’d even be alive in a year.
“What’s on your mind?” Mac asked.
“Nothing.”
“No, I think it’s something. And judging by the scowl on your face, it’s something unpleasant. Are you still thinking about Chelsea?”
“No. Not Chelsea.”
“Then what?”
I looked at Mac. I knew my eyes would show the depth of my turmoil, but I didn’t have the energy to mask it. “I was just thinking that regardless of what happens in terms of my witness protection, in less than a year, you and I and Trevor will be going our separate ways. I can’t tell you how sad that makes me.”
Mac reached over and hugged me. “I know. Me too. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Trev and I have talked about trying to work it out to go to the same college. A lot of the schools he’s looking at have fantastic academic programs as well as awesome football programs. I know you have a tough situation to deal with, but you reinvented yourself once before. You can do it again, only this time as a college student.”
I shook my head. “Maybe, but they’d never allow me to go to the same college you and Trev attend. Whoever spent weeks photographing me last spring has to know we’re besties. It would be too easy to track me down through you, which would put us all in danger. Let’s face it: long-term relationships just aren’t something I can consider.”
Mac took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out slowly. She took both of my hands in hers and looked me in the eye before she spoke. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I understand that the danger you’re in is very real. I wish I could fix it for you, but I know I can’t. What I do know is that as long as we’re both alive, you’ll always be in my life. No matter what happens we’ll find a way. I love you. You’re my best friend. And while Trevor needs some time to process everything, I know he feels the same way.”
I could feel tears threatening, so I simply leaned forward and hugged Mac. She was right. Love would and should prevail. The Bonatello brothers had taken so much from me already. There was no way I was going to let them take the precious people I now had in my life.
My special moment with Mac was interrupted by the vibration of the phone in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. “It’s Woody.”
“Then I guess you should answer,” Mac said.
I hit the Answer button and put the phone to my ear. “Hey, what’s up?”
“I have news. Actually, my news is that I don’t have news.”
“You called me to tell me that?”
Woody laughed. “Yeah, I guess that was lame. What I really wanted to tell you was that Eliston Weston had only the one sister who had a single child who has never traveled to the United States, and Eliston’s wife didn’t have any siblings. I checked three generations out, looking for male relatives that would have been the right age to have stayed with Mr. Weston during the time period the Moodys indicated and have come up totally empty.”
“Maybe he was the son of a friend,” I suggested.
“Maybe. But it’ll be hard to verify without more information. I’m going to widen my search and speak to additional neighbors. I’ll let you know what I find.”
“Thank you; I appreciate that.”
“I also wanted to let you know that the crime scene guys plan to release the house tomorrow morning, so you’re free to use it for your event if you’d like. The deaths of the two victims occurred so long ago that there really wasn’t any evidence to find. We still don’t even know if they died in the house or were simply left there.”
“And you still don’t have causes of death?”
“Not so far. The skeletons are intact and don’t seem to have been damaged, but the crime scene guys haven’t found any viable tissue to run a tox screen, and the organs are completely decayed. They suspect the COD was something that wouldn’t show up on skeletal remains, like a heart attack, poison, or suffocation. They haven’t given up, but they’re about out of ideas.”
“Okay; thanks. Please do let me know if you come up with anything new.”
I hung up and turned to Mac.
“Dead end?” Mac asked.
“Pretty much. They’re releasing the house for the Hayride, which I know will make Caleb happy. I’m going to go back to the house before the crowd of volunteers arrive tomorrow. Maybe the ghosts can tell us what their remains can’t.”
“I’ll go with you. I’m sure Trevor will too.” Mac glanced behind her. “What about your tail?”
“He’s just supposed to follow me around during the day. I guess they figure I’m safe in my own house at night because the security system Donovan installed before he left last spring rivals the one in the White House. Personally, I thought he went a bit overboard, but he wasn’t all that comfortable letting Mom and me come back here, so we went with it. Anyway, you and Trev can come over and we’ll sneak out after Chance leaves.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Not at all, but I need to help the boy move on. I sense his fear. I won’t leave him there.”
Mac took my hand in hers. “Okay. Let’s figure this out. One way or another, we’ll help the boy escape his earthly prison.”
Chapter 15
Luckily, my tail left shortly after it got dark, so Mac, Trevor, and I were able to sneak out without too much trouble. Mom wasn’t thrilled that I was going out, but she’d long since reconciled herself to the fact that I was an intelligent and resourceful person who was going to follow my heart. She agreed to keep Tucker occupied while we took Shadow along with us. We also agreed to check in by text every twenty minutes so she wouldn’t worry.
Although the police planned to remove the yellow caution tape they hadn’t done it yet, so we went through the woods and entered the house through the passageway. The boy was waiting by the entrance. I felt bad we hadn’t visited the previous evening and wondered if he’d waited for us. I wasn’t exactly certain ghosts experienced the passage of time; perhaps it hadn’t mattered.
Shadow trotted directly to the boy, who bent down to hug the cat. I waited while the two reunited before asking the question I’d come to ask.
Eventually, I spoke. “We looked at the pads filled with the pictures you drew.”
The boy shook his head.
“You didn’t want us to look at them?”
He just looked at me.
“You didn’t draw them?”
The boy shook his head again.
I paused to consider this development. “Okay. If you didn’t draw the pictures can you show me who did?”
The boy started down the passage. Shadow trotted along behind and I followed them.
“I assume he’s leading us somewhere?” Mac asked.
“It would seem.”
“I hope it isn’t to another
body,” Trevor added.
“Yeah, me too.”
When we got to the point where the passage reached the house the boy disappeared through the wall. I tried the door handle, which, thankfully, no one had thought to lock, and we all squeezed through. The boy was waiting on the other side. When we were all in the cellar he started up the stairs and into the kitchen. Then he led us to the stairs leading to the second story. I was about to go up as well when the adult ghost appeared at the top of the stairs.
The ghost of the boy disappeared.
“Who are you?” I asked the adult ghost.
The ghost balled his fist and shook it in my direction.
“We aren’t going to hurt you. We want to help you find peace.”
The man started down the stairs, but I held my ground. He passed through me and I felt terror fill my soul. There was so much pain and anger tangled up with his essence. But there was something else too. Something primal. Something fierce and underdeveloped.
“It was you,” I realized. I turned, but the man was gone. I could still feel his presence, so I continued to speak. “You drew the pictures on the pad.”
He reappeared at the top of the stairs.
“Did you draw them when you were a child?”
The man disappeared through the wall behind him. I climbed the stairs and followed him. When I came to the room into which he’d disappeared I stopped to look around. The room was completely empty. I used my flashlight to carefully study every inch of the floor as well as all the walls. I felt in my gut there had to be a clue somewhere in this room, but I wasn’t finding anything. If there ever had been anything here it was most likely long gone by now.
At the far end of the room was a closet that seemed out of place. I opened the door and looked inside. The ghost of the man appeared less than a foot in front of me. I screamed and jumped back, falling onto my backside.
“What is it?” Trevor asked, kneeling beside me.
I took several deep breaths and then answered. “The ghost of the man appeared in the closet. He startled me. I’m all right.”
Trevor stood up, then lent me a hand. I took it and he pulled me to my feet.
“Maybe we should go,” Mac suggested.
“No. We’re close to our answers. I can feel it.”
Mac continued to look more than a little worried.
“He can’t hurt us,” I assured my friends. “Startle, sure. But actually injure, I don’t think so.”
“What if he startled you while you were standing at the top of the stairs?” Mac asked. “You could have fallen.”
I nodded. “Okay, you have a good point. I just need to be more careful.”
Mac looked around the room. “Do you see him now?”
I looked around as well. “No.”
“And the boy?” Trevor asked.
“Gone as well.”
The three of us stood in silence. I had no idea what to do next. The room and closet were completely empty; still, I felt there was something we were meant to find.
I looked at Shadow, who trotted to the open closet and went inside. I followed him. I noticed Shadow was scratching at something in the corner and moved closer, shining my light on the spot. There was a metal handle attached to the wall. I turned it and a panel slid open.
“Well, I’ll be. Another secret room.”
I shone my light inside and then took a single step through the opening. It was a child’s room, filled with childlike things. A model train, a set of blocks, and a table with crayons and pads filled with drawings.
“This must be where they kept the child before he died,” I said aloud.
The man appeared. This time I didn’t scream or jump back. I looked at him and suddenly I knew. The room didn’t belong to the child but to the man with the mind of a child. I remembered the Moodys saying the teen who lived with Mr. Weston had mental issues.
“This was your room,” I said.
The man floated over to the table with the pads. I remembered the drawings in the other one. They were so dark, filled with death and suffering. Immediately, I sensed that he was not only a child trapped in a man’s body, but a soul filled with evil energy too.
“Who are you?” I asked again.
Woody had already eliminated the possibility of close relatives, and the only child Mr. Weston had was a son who’d died when he was nine. Suddenly I wondered if the ghost of the child could have been Weston’s son.
But that made no sense. Mr. Weston’s son had died before he moved to Cutter’s Cove. Why would he bring the remains of his son with him? And the man ghost had obviously lived here, after Mr. Weston’s wife and son had died.
Unless he hadn’t.
“What are you thinking?” Mac asked.
“I don’t think Mr. Weston’s son died when he was nine. I don’t think he died for another decade.”
Mac frowned. “Huh?”
“The only thing that makes sense is that the ghost of the man was Mr. Weston’s son. Mr. Weston knew he was dangerous, so he kept him locked up. At some point he must have died.”
“Wait,” Trevor said. “I thought Weston’s wife committed suicide after the death of her son. If the son didn’t die, that doesn’t fit.”
I paused to consider that. “What if the wife couldn’t accept the fact that her son was a sociopath? The drawings show terrible things. Decapitated animals, mutilated bodies, all sorts of horrific images, some of which may have been carried out. How would a parent deal with that? To know your son was the embodiment of evil without conscience?”
“Okay, I guess that makes sense,” Mac said. “So Mr. Weston realized his son was a danger to others and locked him away. He told everyone his son had died. As a doctor, Mr. Weston would have been a respected man in the community, so chances are no one would have questioned him. His wife, however, couldn’t deal with the situation and committed suicide. At some point Mr. Weston realized he needed a fresh start, so he moved to Cutter’s Cove. He bought this huge house on a large piece of land where he could sequester his son. As the son grew he became smarter, more adept at escaping his confines. The Moodys saw him out and about, so Mr. Weston made up the story about a nephew. After the son died—and the boy who was staying with Mr. Weston was no longer seen in the area—it was assumed the nephew simply went home. Mr. Weston entombed his son in the secret room.”
“That all makes sense,” Trevor said, “but that doesn’t explain who the child was or how the son died.”
Trevor was right. We needed to figure out the rest of the story.
“What if Weston’s son killed the child during one of the times he escaped? Like Frankenstein’s monster?” Trevor asked.
“I guess it could have happened that way,” I realized. “Mr. Weston knew what his son had done, but he didn’t want him to spend the rest of his life in prison or a mental hospital, so he hid the body.”
“Yeah, but if this monster killed the child you would think there would be all sorts of broken bones and there weren’t any,” Mac pointed out. “Besides, if a child was killed in the area someone would have noticed. There would have been a missing persons report.”
“True,” I responded.
The conversation paused as all three of us attempted to make sense of what we’d found. Neither ghost was visible, but I sensed that both still lingered. Shadow had wandered down the hall, and I went to find him. I checked every room on the second floor, then headed to the stairs that led to the attic. Shadow was standing at the door. I opened it and he trotted inside. Once inside the attic, I waited for Shadow to show me what he wanted me to find. He walked to a box and pawed at it. I set the box on the floor and looked inside.
“What is it?” Mac, who had followed with Trevor, asked.
“It looks like someone’s personal possessions. I guess Mr. Weston’s.”
I began to remove items from the box. A dog-eared book. A pair of reading glasses. A couple of pens. A remote control. A notepad. A key. “It looks like the stuff you
might have in a nightstand or maybe a chairside table,” I commented.
“What does the key open?” Mac asked.
I picked it up and looked at it. “I’m not sure. It’s small, so maybe a small lock of some sort. Or a trunk or safety deposit box.” I looked around. There were stacks of boxes and some old furniture. I didn’t see a trunk right off, but it was dark in the room and there was a lot of stuff packed in tightly.
“Let’s get Caleb’s generator-powered lights,” I said. “Everything is in the room on the second floor. If the key opens a trunk of some sort maybe it’s in here.”
The three of us filed down the stairs while Shadow stayed behind. I could sense the spirits in the room and figured Shadow could as well. Caleb had shown me how to use the lights and the small generator, so we lugged everything upstairs. It took almost an hour to clear away enough of the boxes to find the chest. I used the key to open it. Inside were additional drawings, along with a metal box, which I opened to find a stack of envelopes.
“What did you find?” Mac asked.
I opened the first envelope, which contained the birth certificate of Mr. Weston’s son. The second envelope contained a marriage license, the third a death certificate for his son when he was nine. The fourth envelope held the death certificate of his wife. I looked at each document, then passed it to Trevor, who passed it on to Mac.
Beneath the death certificate for his wife was a bill of sales for Weston’s medical practice and his house in Kansas. The next envelope contained the deed to the house we were standing in, and beneath that, a newspaper article regarding a runaway, dated April 12, 1992.
“The boy in the box,” I said aloud.
Mac took the article and read it. “So, if this runaway is the child in the box why didn’t he show up on the missing persons reports Woody pulled?”
None of us answered right away.
“The boy went missing from a foster home two states away,” Mac pointed out. “I don’t think this could be the same kid.”
“But what if it was?” I insisted. “What if the kid ran away and hopped a train or something and made his way to Oregon? What if he was camping out in the woods near this house and Weston’s son found him? What if the son killed him? Once Weston realized what his son had done he would most likely have kept an ear out for missing kids. What if none were ever reported, so he simply left the body in his secret room?”
