CHAPTER XV

Lucy Verner sat in the sunroom of the Norris home in Long Hills and stared out at the snow-covered birdbath. One lone bird perched forlornly on the edge of the ornamental sculpture, pecking resolutely at the icy pool at its feet.

Lucy felt the same way, she supposed, as the bird. Alone, and somewhat forlorn.

Cousin Alberta was bustling about in the kitchen, putting together Erle’s favorite lunch: tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, with a good helping of crunchy potato chips. She had turned down Lucy’s offer to help, which was all right. She didn’t particularly enjoy cooking, and wasn’t very good at it, in any case.

But that wasn’t the real problem.

Late last night, after Erle had been tucked away in bed, she attempted to draw Alberta into a discussion about Erle’s future. But the older woman had shrugged off her questions, and she had had to be tactfully careful to disengage from the conversation without veering off into a quarrel.

“I don’t really see what the problem is,” Alberta had said, knitting needles clacking away on one of her endless winter scarf, cap and gloves projects. “Erle’s perfectly all right now. He just had a little bout of impish nonsense, that’s all.”

She pulled at the skein of brightly-colored wool peeking out of the work bag at her side.

“I’m aware now that I have to watch him more closely, and I’m perfectly able to do that,” she added. “He’s really just a little boy at heart, and I don’t see why you all are so worried about what he might do, or where he might go. He’s not capable of doing anything more devilish than a five-year-old might.”

She clenched her jaw tight, eyes shining brightly with righteous indignity.

“I understand how you feel, Bertie,” Lucy said, using the familiar nickname from childhood. “But you have to realize that, even though he has the sensibilities of a five-year-old, he has the body and strength of a grown man. Given his lack of…” she struggled for the right words. “…given his lack of sophistication, it would be very easy for an unscrupulous individual to take advantage of him…even convince him to do something that might not otherwise occur to him.”

“Now, Lucy, who in the world around here would dream of such a thing!” Alberta stopped knitting, crumpled up the unfinished project in a tight ball and thrust it down into the depths of the work basket. “I’m very tired, after all that’s been going on. I need to get to bed so I’ll be fresh when Erle gets up in the morning. Good night.”

And with that she had marched off to her room next to Erle’s.

Lucy had cleared up the mugs of cocoa they had shared, glanced around the kitchen to see if anything needed to be put away, checked the locks and turned out the lights as she made her way across the foyer to the guest area.

And this morning, when she rose at her usual early hour, she had found Erle, dressed rather untidily, and pacing restlessly beside the slider to the yard, looking longingly out towards the street beyond. Alberta was nowhere to be found, presumably still asleep in her bed.

“Good morning, Erle,” she had said, hoping to draw him into one of their little talks about nature and the sorts of birds that might still be about on such a snowy day.

“Not good, Lucy,” he grumped. “Not a good morning! I’m…I’m pooky!”

“Pooky” was his made-up word for restless or antsy.

“What are you ‘pooky’ about, Erle? Would you like me to fix you some breakfast? How about a nice bowl of cereal….”

“NO! Don’t want no cereal! Don’t want nothin’”

“But you should have something to eat,” she said soothingly. “That will make your tummy feel better.”

“Don’t want my tummy feel better. No, No, No!”

“All right,” she said, turning away into the room. “Let me know if you change your mind.” She had learned long ago that it did no good to argue with him when he got in a mood like this. It was best to just wait it out, letting him get over it on his own.

But Erle hadn’t “gotten over it” at all. He had stomped off to his playroom where he banged doors and slammed toys about for the next hour or so, until Alberta made her way sleepily into the kitchen looking for coffee.

Lucy wondered if this was the pattern every day, and if Alberta even realized how long Erle had been waiting for her unsupervised. This was one of the issues concerning her this morning.

But the other issue was even more unsettling. Gail had taken her aside when she first arrived to discuss the concerns she and Connie had. One of the first things she mentioned was Erle’s confrontation with the police, followed by his examination at the hospital. When Gail mentioned the scratches the police said they’d found on her brother’s back, all sorts of red flags began unfurling in Lucy’s mind. Being a nurse, she was not exactly naïve when it came to the possibilities.

“Oh, Lord, Gail! What in the world could he have gotten up to?”

“Exactly. I tell you, Lucy. We really need to get a handle on this, before anything else happens. I don’t even want to think about the ramifications, especially right now, with this legal case pending. But I must. I don’t think Mother’s able to deal with this sort of thing.”

“Have you told her? I understand she must have seen the scratches, but have you talked to her about what it might mean?”

“Not really. She’s in a kind of denial right now. I didn’t want to upset her any more than necessary. Not until we have a clearer picture of what we’re dealing with. Do you think it would serve any purpose to have him evaluated again? We’ve done that so many times, but it’s been quite a while. He seemed sort of stable, so we hoped he might just go on in the same manner, without this sort of problem.”

“Alberta’s not going to like it, Gail. But I believe you’re right. I really think he needs to be evaluated again, with the main emphasis on his adult physical capability coupled with his childlike mental capacity. Let me talk to her about it. Maybe I can convince her it’s time to take another look at the situation.”

And that was what she had tried to do. But no matter how tactful, how caring, she tried to be, Alberta resented any implication that she was not “doing her job” in caring for Erle. And it was obvious she was going to fight any such suggestions for changing or altering their current living situation.

The bird finally tired of chipping away at the ice and flew away.

XVI.

The old shack shivered in the wind. This was something new, this strong, gusty gale from the North.

Hal Watson shook himself alert. Each creak and snap of a branch outside the cabin caused him to start and look anxiously about. He was getting paranoid now, he sensed. He was still concerned that his abductor had somehow made the trek to his sanctuary and was even now plotting to break in and overwhelm him.

He had been here long enough that he had developed a sort of ironic twist on the Stockholm Syndrome, this time with a place not a person. This structure was his now, to defend from all encroachers. He identified with it, and almost cherished it, for providing him warmth and shelter from the elements. The comforting cups of hot tea and the cozy fire had become his everything.

And the primitive cabin had become more than a home—it was his castle.

The door rattled again. This time more insistently.

Hal got up from his comfy chair, rubbed his aching left shoulder and took the loaded pistol in hand. Once more, as he had done dozens of times since that first night, he crept stealthily in sock feet to the entrance and weighed whether or not to open the door—to whatever was on the other side.

Each time he had done so previously, the only thing discernible was the expanse of porch defined by a crude pine branch railing overlooking a sea of white stretching into the horizon beyond.

This time was different.

As he slowly unlatched the lock and pulled the door toward him, a wraith-like creature rose up and flailed inward, visible steam emanating in a silky swirl from flared nostrils.

Hal raised the gun to take aim and fire—then stopped himself.

“No!” he gasped. “It can’t be!”

Then Hal Watson stumbled backward, away from the ghostly apparition, holding up his hands in front of him, as if to ward off some evil spirit.

He fell to the floor, as blessed oblivion overcame him. His last conscious thought was “Why is this happening?” Then peaceful dreams took over and he knew nothing more.