We answered the police’s questions as we sat in the parlor. The 911 operator had heard everything, via Matthew’s cell phone call, and he and the officers had found their way to the basement room just as I had stabbed Mercy. Another squad was outside searching for the nurse’s body, which they found later in the garden.
I held Amity in my arms and stroked her hair. She was crying softly and shaking, and I tried to comfort her but I felt much the same way, as though I was shivering deep within my core.
“You were very brave down there, honey,” I said to her. “You saved my life.”
She managed a smile as we sat together on the sofa. “You told me to run, but I just couldn’t leave you. Why did she do that, Mom? What is she?”
My daughter’s eyes were searching mine for answers I couldn’t give her. “I don’t know,” I said finally. “But it’s over now. She’s gone, and she’s not coming back.”
Soon the coroner arrived, and they took Mercy’s body away.
“I’m the next of kin,” I told them. “When you’ve done the autopsy, I’d like her to be cremated as soon as possible.” I knew it was probably silly, but I did not want Mercy buried on this property or anywhere near the house.
When they had all left, and it was just the four of us in the parlor, I turned to Carter.
“You recognized her, that day when you were driving us to the funeral, didn’t you?” I asked him, remembering his reaction when we almost ran her down.
He nodded and sipped the last of his drink. “I did, child. I did. And now that it seems to have stopped raining, I’m going to head down to the carriage house,” he said, getting to his feet and smoothing his suit coat. “I could use some dinner and my own bed.”
“I know the feeling.” I smiled at him and stretched, realizing I could do with a little food myself. “It’s been a long day.”
After he had gone, Matthew, Amity, and I retreated to the kitchen. They both hopped onto stools at the high table. I opened a beer for Matthew and had just stuck my head inside the refrigerator when something Carter had said replayed in my mind.
“He said there was something worse,” I said, poking my head around the fridge door to look at Matthew. He wrinkled his nose at me.
“When Carter was telling the story,” I said. “He said there was something worse to tell, but he didn’t get a chance to tell it because Mercy interrupted us.”
“That’s right,” Matthew said, putting his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his palm. “But to tell you the truth, I really don’t want to know what it is. Carter’s down in the carriage house. Mercy’s dead, she can’t hurt anyone anymore. You and your daughter are safe. It’s over. And I think I’ve had enough of the supernatural for one day. I’m sure Carter believes his story is true, but for God’s sake …” He let out a deep sigh. “Can’t we just leave it? For today, at least?”
I thought I detected the urge to run in Matthew’s eyes. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he did. “You’ve got it,” I said, and pulled some cold chicken, lettuce, and an avocado out of the fridge with a weak smile. “How about a sandwich?”
I lay awake that night, with Amity next to me in the big bed, and Matthew—who didn’t feel right leaving us alone in the house—sleeping in the guest room down the hall.
Mercy had answered some of my questions—notably about my mother’s death and the identity of our intruder—and I knew I should be satisfied with that. But what Carter had said was nagging at me. What was the “much, much worse”? And did it have anything to do with Coleville’s death the next summer? I was so deeply ensnared in this mystery, I just couldn’t let it go. I punched my pillow and turned on my side, thinking that I would talk to Carter about it the next day.
But then my eyes shot open. I didn’t have to wait until the next day. Mercy had said: “He hasn’t gotten to the best part yet.” And then she referred to the manuscript, saying: “It’s all in there.”
I slipped out of bed and stole into my mother’s study, where I had returned the manuscript earlier. I flipped on the reading lamp and put the pages on my lap, and a shudder went through me when I saw the red smudges Mercy’s bloody fingers had left on it. I shook the image of her out of my mind and began to read.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, I made my way down to the dining room for breakfast, having every intention of telling my hosts that I’d have to take my leave. I had already made up a story—my father would need me back in Boston. But I didn’t get a chance to tell them anything, because the dining room was empty when I reached it.
I walked from there to the study to the living room, wondering where in the world my hosts could possibly be. This wasn’t like them, creatures of habit that they were.
Perhaps they were on the patio? I looked out the living room window—there was Lily, standing alone, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. I pushed open the French doors and was at her side in an instant.
“What is it?” I asked her. “What’s the matter?”
She looked at me with wide eyes. “Oh, Mickey, thank goodness!” she said, smiling warmly and touching my arm. “I’m so glad to see you up and around. We were all getting quite worried about you.”
Whatever was she talking about? “Up and around?” I asked her, looking at my watch. “Am I late for breakfast?”
She smiled again, that beautiful, warm smile. “About four days late,” she said, gently. “You were down with a terrible fever. The doctor has been here. I could’ve killed Flynn for that ridiculous prank, plunging you into the lake like that. I was terrified you had caught your death.”
My head swam. I had lost four days?
“I don’t understand,” I began. “I—”
“So there you are, Rip Van Winkle!” I turned to see Flynn running up the patio steps, his eyes shining. “Back in the land of the living!” He encircled me in a great hug. “I was so afraid for you, my dear friend,” he whispered into my ear, his voice wavering.
He pulled back and looked at me, and I could see his eyes brimming with tears.
“Mother! Father!” he called out in the direction of the garden. “He’s awake! Mickey is awake!”
I went through the motions of breakfast with everyone but couldn’t quite grasp what they were saying to me. Four days lost? But … how? The last I knew, I had spent a fitful, sleepless night in my room after a frightening encounter on the lakeshore. Was everything I experienced some dark and feverish dream brought about by illness? A hallucination, then? It was the only explanation that made sense, and yet it felt wrong somehow.
Lily and Flynn and his parents chattered away, filling me in on the happenings of the past four days. But Pru was notably silent. She stared across the table at me with a strange glint in her eyes that I hadn’t before seen.
Any comments she would make were harsher than her usual, flirty banter, picking at both Lily and Flynn in a way that was decidedly unlike her. Finally, Flynn spoke up.
“Whatever is the matter with you, Pru?” he asked. “You’re positively gloomy, and you’ve been this way for days. And here we are with something to celebrate—Mickey’s recovery. Lighten up, will you?”
She turned to me then, and in her face I saw something ghoulishly familiar. “I am sorry.” She smiled, but as she did so, her eyes didn’t light up the way they usually did. “I was just so worried about Michael. I guess I’m overwhelmed with relief that he’s all right.”
We dropped the subject then, but I noticed Lily and Flynn exchange a glance that told me more was going on than met the eye.
After breakfast, I planned to do some writing in the garden, so I hurried up to my room to get my writing pad and pencil. I found Prudence waiting for me, sitting on my bed, when I opened the door. She rose and was at my side in a moment, draping her arms around my neck.
“Alone at last,” she whispered into my ear, and kissed me, forcefully and hard. I pushed her away.
“Prudence,” I started, fishing my handkerchief out of my pocket and wiping my mouth with it. “This is hardly appropriate.”
She laughed and moved closer, backing me against the wall. “I couldn’t care less about that.” She smiled. “I know how you feel about me, Michael. We have a connection. I’m wondering what you’d like to do about that.”
“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered. “But—”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “You must realize that if you marry me, all of this will be yours.”
“Listen to me, Prudence,” I said to her. “I’m flattered by your attention, I truly am. You’re a wonderful girl and any man would be lucky to have you. But my heart belongs to another. I think you know that.”
She batted her eyelashes at me. “We’ll see,” she said, kissing my cheek. And then she took her leave of me, closing the door behind her.
Later, I happened to walk into the garden where Flynn and Lily were talking in low tones, their heads together.
“Oh!” Flynn said a little too loudly. “Mickey boy! I didn’t see you there.”
Lily’s eyes were brimming with tears. She tried to brush them away with her sleeve, but I took her hand in mine.
“This is the second time I’ve seen you crying today,” I said to her, glancing at Flynn. “Something’s going on. Please take me into your confidence, both of you. Maybe I can help.”
Flynn sighed. “It’s Pru,” he said, turning Lily. “I think he should know.” She nodded quickly in response. “She hasn’t been herself for days.”
“I noticed at breakfast she was rather snappish,” I offered. “Is that what you mean?”
“That and more,” Lily said. “It’s as though she has developed a kind of hatred for us, all of us, overnight.”
“I had an unusual encounter with her earlier,” I confessed, but I wasn’t about to let on what it was.
I locked eyes with Flynn, and I could tell we were both thinking the same thing. This had something to do with the girl in white. Just then, I heard giggling from behind us, and we turned to find Prudence there, holding a croquet mallet and smiling.
“Anyone up for a game?” she asked, slowly swinging the mallet. “I’m dying to have some fun.”
“A little bedtime reading?” It was Matthew, poking his head around the door. “I couldn’t sleep and was about to head downstairs to get something to read when I saw the light under your door.”
“I couldn’t sleep, either.” I smiled.
He eyed the manuscript in my lap. “You’re looking for answers.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Guilty as charged. What Carter said earlier was really nagging at me. ‘Something much, much worse.’ I couldn’t sleep until I knew what it was.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked, yawning and running a hand through his hair. He looked exhausted.
I put the manuscript down and kissed his cheek. “You bet I did.” I turned off the light and led him back into his bedroom. The answers to this mystery could wait.