46
Carlie and Loretta had spent all night and most of the day cooking and preparing for Dexter’s party. They had invited over a hundred guests, and remarkably, ninety percent had RSVP’d.
Even Jon was looking forward to the party. Since the incident in the barn earlier in the month, the house had taken on a new atmosphere of calm and serenity. For the first time since setting foot on the property, Jon felt at peace. Carlie was actually sleeping soundly through the night, and Jon hadn’t had a single recurrence of seeing or being accosted by Edith’s or Ian’s spirit.
The guests started arriving a few minutes before 5:00 pm. By half past, everyone was there except Dexter. Jon flashed back to the day Paul had found the old man lying face-down in the driveway.
When the grandfather clock chimed at 6:15, Jon felt that he had waited as long as he could. After putting on his coat, he wandered around the kitchen trying to remember where he had left his car keys. He was about to yell for Carlie when the doorbell rang. He could tell by the excitement that Dexter had finally arrived.
Dexter hadn’t even taken off his coat before everyone in the room formed a line to shake the man’s hand and wish him well. The old lawyer deserved every bit of the adulation he was getting.
The dinner was just shy of gourmet, and everyone raved about it. Afterward, the guests mingled with drinks in hand, reminiscing and telling stories. Of course, not every story was a case of hero worship. Old Dexter had made a few mistakes in his days, but no one held them against him, and enough time had passed that everyone could have a good laugh about it now.
By 11:30, the guests were pretty much gone. The few that remained behind were helping Carlie and Loretta clean up. The front room was peacefully quiet, and Jon and Dexter were nursing their brandies when Dexter sat forward and said, “I don’t want to impose, but would you and Carlie mind if I spent the night here tonight?”
“Of course we don’t mind.”
Dexter gave Jon a casual smile. “I’ve moved up my plans. I’m leaving tomorrow morning for Europe. I’d appreciate it if you could take me to the airport.”
“Why so early?”
“There’s nothing keeping me here anymore. I have a cousin outside of London; we figured we would live out the rest of our lives together in the British countryside. I hear it’s quite beautiful there.
“I do want to talk to you and Carlie before I leave, and the ride to the airport seems like a perfect opportunity.”
With Carlie out of the room, Jon placed his finger across his lips and motioned for Dexter to follow him upstairs. Jon opened the closet door and pointed inside. “I found these upstairs in the attic.”
Dexter leaned in and saw the cardboard box lying on the floor. “What’s in it?”
Jon gently moved the man aside and stepped in. There was only one box on the floor. Opening the top, he found that it was the box containing the journals. In a panic, he started throwing blankets and shoes. “They’re gone!” he exclaimed.
Looking perplexed, Dexter asked, “What’s gone?”
“There were three boxes in here this morning. One had a gun in it, and the other a set of bloody clothes. Now they’re gone.
“I think they belonged to the McPhersons.”
As they walked back down the stairs, Dexter said, “Mmm, that’s interesting. That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about—not the McPhersons specifically, but this house. It can wait until tomorrow though—when we’re far away from here.”
Carlie, Jon, and Dexter thanked Loretta and Cecil for everything and walked them to Cecil’s pickup truck. The snow had started falling and the wind was picking up at a steady pace. The forecast had called for snow late. The wind whipping the snow around was going to make their trip to the airport in the morning a nightmare.
Carlie had been so busy during the party that she never got the opportunity to spend more than a few minutes with Dexter, but looking at the man, she could see that he was exhausted. His eyes were red and unfocused—even the skin on his face seemed to droop. “Follow me and I’ll show you to the guest room.”
Dexter followed Carlie; when she opened the bedroom door and turned on the light, Dexter leaned down and gave her a gentle peck on the cheek. “I can’t thank you enough for everything, Carlie. It was a terrific party.”
The next morning, Jon pulled Dexter’s Mercedes onto the main highway. “I wanted to talk to you two about the house,” Dexter said. “Carlie, I know you don’t want to hear this, but please listen. I won’t ever have the chance to tell you again.
“Something inside that house killed both your Uncle William and your Aunt Grace. I can’t tell you how many other people it has killed, run off, or driven insane, because I just don’t know. But I do know that I can’t stand by and watch anything happen to you. I have to try to convince you to leave.
“My house is empty now, and it’s yours if you want it. I want you to think about what I have said. I’m telling you that I want to see you walk away from that house. Leave it and never give it a second thought. You both will be so much better off if you do.”
“I appreciate your offer, Dexter, but we’ll be all right—I promise.”
“Carlie, my dear, you are making a promise you cannot keep.
“Jon, please try to persuade her. If you don’t, maybe the next time you’re attacked, you’ll end up dead.”
Jon spun around in the front seat and glared at Dexter. He couldn’t believe the old man would say that in front of Carlie.
“Jon, we have seen all of this before, many times. I can tell you this: it is only the beginning. Things are going to get a lot worse for the both of you.”
The three of them rode in silence until Jon pulled to the curb in front of the British Airways terminal. Once Carlie pushed the button for the trunk, a skycap loaded Dexter’s luggage onto a cart.
Jon shook Dexter’s hand but couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say, so he pulled the man close and gave him a hug. “Take care of yourself, Dexter,” Jon whispered.
Carlie didn’t want to cry—she had even promised herself that she wouldn’t—but she started sobbing all the same. Throwing her arms around Dexter’s neck, she buried her face in his jacket. “I’m going to miss you so much. Please take care of yourself.”
Wrapping his arm around Carlie’s back, he pulled her tight and whispered, “It’s not me you need to be concerned about. It’s you and your husband who are in danger.”
Pulling away, she gave him a weak smile. “We’re going to be just fine.”
“No—no, you’re not. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”