Chapter 9
Heidi
Lane Lodge’s windows were illuminated from the top floor to the bottom, private quarters. Every window was brilliant, the front door opened wide, and two police cars parked at an angle in front.
“What on earth?” Heidi leaned forward, ignoring Rhett’s dog that sat between them in the pickup truck—Rüger was its name.
Archie, the very lively tabby cat, leapt off her lap onto the dashboard, his long tail feathering her face. Rhett’s truck seemed to be a mobile home for the one-eyed dog and ratty cat.
Rüger growled deep in his throat, and the third male of the car—Heidi glanced at him—still had no visible reaction. The man was chiseled out of granite. He’d been silent the entire trip back to Lane Lodge. She’d been okay with that. Heidi needed the time, the silence, to attempt to drag herself from the quagmire of her unease.
“Get out.” Rhett’s command wasn’t brutish. It was just that. A plain and simple command.
Heidi obeyed, albeit shooting him a pursed-lip glance of derision. A little warmth infused in his voice might help him not seem as unlikable.
“There you are!” Vicki’s voice was high, laced with stress and about as warm as standing in a swimsuit on an iceberg. She stalked toward them, and Heidi took a step backward, closer to Rhett. For now, she’d take the cranky superhero knock-off over Vicki.
Heidi shot a look at Rhett. Vicki paused when she saw him, glanced between him and Heidi and then back at Rhett. She wiped her hand over her cheek in a gesture that was swift but telling. She’d been crying.
“There was a break-in. I got home, the basement door was wide open. We’re lucky nothing was stolen from our guests on the second floor.”
“No one was hurt?” Rhett’s body language shifted to one of concern again.
“No, thankfully.” Vicki crossed her arms over her chest. She tipped her head back toward the lodge. “Brad is in there now talking to the cops.”
“I’ll head in.”
Heidi eyed Rhett’s tall, broad form as he hiked toward the lodge, but she sensed Vicki’s disapproval sparking through the air. She stifled her shaking breath. Tried to ignore the nausea in her stomach and the ravenous disquiet that continued to eat at her nerves.
“Where were you?” Vicki almost hissed, though Heidi saw tears in her eyes. Sparkling, frustrated tears of exhaustion.
Heidi hated confrontation, yet she couldn’t escape it.
“I went to see Mom.” She left out the part about hitting Emma’s dog with the car. If she mentioned that, she’d probably begin to cry too. That would be the end of everything. Specifically, her last thread of emotional control.
“All day?” Vicki tipped her head, wrapping her arms tighter around her body.
“No. I-I wandered around town a bit. Got some coffee and lunch. I needed to clear my thoughts.” Clear her thoughts and erase the image of the woman peering through her window.
Vicki interrupted, “And so you didn’t restock the towels, assist the guests, nothing? Gosh! It’s like you’re sixteen years old and just don’t think! Now this!” She waved her arm in a sweep of the lodge. “What did you do?”
The question ended in a quieter plea. The tone hurt and exasperated, as if Heidi could just give her sister a logical, responsible answer, then everything would at least make sense.
Heidi mirrored her sister and crossed her arms. “What do you mean, ‘what did I do’?”
Vicki dropped her arms to her sides. “Someone broke in. Your room is ransacked, completely ransacked.”
“What?” A chill started at the base of Heidi’s spine. She looked over Vicki’s shoulder toward the lodge. “Just my room?”
“Yes.” Vicki nodded. “Nothing else was touched, thank God, but the police want to talk with you, and I too want to hear what you have to say.”
Heidi pushed past Vicki. There was nothing in her room to find. Nothing to steal. She sensed Vicki was close behind her as she hurried through the house. Voices filtered from the main living area. Heidi dodged down a back hall to avoid what she assumed was the police. Her bedroom door was open, lights on, and it was empty of people.
“Heidi, wait!” Vicki commanded. “I don’t know if the police are—”
Her words cut off. Probably because Heidi had already seen it. There. On her mirror. Written in thick, red smears of lipstick.
Madness.
The one word was terrifying. It meant nothing to Heidi, and yet it was like a cheesy omen from a horror movie right before some masked intruder exited the closet with a machete. Heidi glanced at the closet. The doors were already open and it was empty.
“What does—what is that supposed to mean?” Heidi couldn’t help but ask the incredulous question.
“We’re hoping you have the answer to that.” Vicki crossed her arms again. “The cops want to talk to you. Now.” Her words were pointed and meaningful, but Heidi didn’t move.
She reached out to touch the lipstick word, then drew her hand back. “I don’t know what happened, Vicki, honestly I don’t.”
Madness.
“You don’t have someone out there you owe money to or something? This wasn’t random, Heidi.”
“No.” Bewilderment mixed with apprehension lodged in Heidi’s chest. “No, I-I don’t.”
Vicki drew in a deep breath, then blew it out.
Heidi muttered, “It makes no sense.”
Madness.
“Doesn’t it?” Vicki’s question was loaded with insinuation.
Heidi’s gaze flew to meet her sister’s. Vicki sniffed and wiped her eyes. Her tone was accusatory when she finished her thought aloud.
“I think it makes all the sense in the world.”
The initial commotion on Heidi’s return had settled. No one had yet to ask why Rhett was with her and where her car was. Of course, considering there had been a break-in, it kind of made an absentee car with a perfectly healthy sister little cause for concern by comparison.
Heidi jammed her hands in the pockets of her jeans and leaned against the living room wall, noting with preoccupied recognition that her waistband was the same height as the green-plaid wallpaper border. She could hear Vicki in the kitchen turning on water, a pot banging on the stovetop. Tea. Vicki’s calming go-to had never changed. Heidi would place bets on her life that it was straight-up green tea, no sweetener added.
Two police officers stood in the circle of couches and coffee table. Brad, with his curly, tousled dark hair and broad shoulders, looked almost puny next to Rhett, who topped her brother-in-law by about four inches and far more brawn. All four men appeared to know each other, and if it hadn’t been for a quick eye from Brad, Heidi would have just escaped to—well, somewhere other than here.
Images of the face in the window this morning had revived with a stark coldness that encouraged Heidi to remain in the presence of the four northern-woodsy men. Female independence and warrior women aside, Heidi couldn’t argue that sometimes—darn it all—it was nice to have a man around. She’d never admit it out loud, however.
“Heidi?” Brad waved her over. His fingertips were grease-stained, much like she’d noticed with Rhett’s. His T-shirt was untucked from his jeans and stretched across his chest. Warmth emanated from his hazel eyes, which tonight hued yellow because of the amber tones of his shirt.
She pushed herself off the wall and neared the group.
“Hello, Ms. Lane. I’m Detective Davidson, and this is Officer Tate. We just have a few questions to ask you.” Davidson’s statement was so rhetorical, Heidi didn’t even bother to smile.
She glanced at Brad, who gave her a brotherly nod of encouragement, then to Rhett, whose gray eyes reflected—well, she didn’t know what. He was the master of the poker face. Why was he still here anyway? This was really none of his business.
Detective Davidson was speaking, and Heidi blinked to queue herself into the conversation. The questions came like rapid-fire gunshots.
“Where were you today? Do you know of any reason why your room specifically would be targeted? An ex perhaps?”
Oh! Interesting. There was a flicker in Rhett’s eyes at the mention of a possible ex-boyfriend. Heidi bit her lip to hide her smile—and her nerves. This wasn’t the time. She cleared her throat. “No, Officer. I’ve no ex to pester me. I’m woefully single.”
She shot a glance at Rhett, who again seemed unaffected. Detective Davidson wasn’t, though, and he gave a chuckle.
“Well, we have to explore all options.” He shifted his attention back to Brad. “We’ve checked for prints. We’ll run them against the database and rule out all of yours. Odds are the intruder was smart enough to wear gloves or something. We checked around the house—no foot impressions, no broken windows, no blood.”
“Blood?” Brad’s eyebrow zinged upward.
“Like if someone busted a window and nicked themselves crawling through,” Officer Tate interjected.
“Oh,” Brad nodded.
Detective Davidson answered with a nod of his own. “Yes. So, point of entry appears to be the entry door. It wasn’t jimmied or anything, and Vicki said it was ajar when she got home.” Detective Davidson looked back at Heidi. “Do you recall if you locked it when you left?”
Nope. Nope. She hadn’t. Vicki hadn’t gifted her with a key to get back in. Heidi shook her head and tucked an escaped tendril of blue-tipped hair behind her ear. “I didn’t. I recall not locking it because it seemed weird to leave a door unlocked. I’m from Chicago, so a lot of us have bars on our windows, unless you’re in the suburbs.”
“We don’t normally worry about locking up,” Brad said on Heidi’s behalf. “We have guests come into the main foyer where the reception desk is. The inner door from there into the main living quarters is usually locked, but”—he glanced at Heidi with an apologetic look in his eyes—“I guess Vicki hadn’t expected Heidi to go anywhere.”
Yes. Trapped in the prison of the Lane Lodge, fulfilling her family duty. Heidi winced inwardly.
“One more question.” Detective Davidson exchanged looks with his partner, Officer Tate.
“Yes?” Heidi tried to infuse warmth into her voice. Her defenses were crumbling. There was no appropriate time to interject humor, act impulsively, change the subject, and she had nothing to war against the rising angst.
“The word written on the mirror . . .” He paused, studying her reaction.
Heidi glanced at Rhett, who studied her too.
Brad did likewise.
Heidi waited.
“Do you have any idea what it means?”
The bombshell question. The insinuation from Vicki just minutes before. It all made sense, didn’t it? Heidi’s throat started closing. Black shields seemed to draw over her peripheral vision, as if she were going to black out. But it wasn’t fainting, it was more. So very much more.
A hand on her upper arm steadied her. Its pressure was gentle but firm, coaching her to breathe deep, to take a moment, to not give in. Heidi looked up, and her eyes collided with Rhett’s. He blinked. Long lashes framing his eyes.
This was unexpected.
“Take your time.” His words were toneless, but Heidi appreciated that. There was no infusion of accusation, or suspicion, or even impatience.
Heidi locked gazes with him, for no other reason than to keep from going under. When she answered Detective Davidson, she stayed focused on Rhett.
“I don’t know why anyone would specifically write that to me.” Her voice was a whisper.
It wasn’t entirely true. Vicki could have—though she seemed too shocked and horrified to make Heidi believe she had. If Vicki had written it, it would have been a cruel accusation from a spiteful sibling.
You’re going crazy, Heidi!
Heidi remembered the first time Vicki had told her that when she was fourteen, and Vicki found her rocking in a corner, arms wrapped around her knees.
But anxiety—unaccounted fear—didn’t imply madness. Not in today’s world. It just bespoke of social fears, or PTSD, or, in Heidi’s diagnosed case, hormonal imbalances and an iron deficiency that needed supplements and the aid of a prescription. And she was blessed! Not everyone could find a reason for their struggles. They were just there. Persistent demons that never went away.
“Heidi?” Brad’s voice yanked her from her stare into Rhett’s firm, unblinking focus.
She broke the gaze and drew a deep breath as she redirected to Brad. “Yeah?”
“Is there anything else you can think of that might be of help to the police? Anything you might know, might have that would be worth targeting your room for?”
“Yes,” Detective Davidson nodded. “Nothing of value was taken that Brad or Vicki have noticed, but we’ll still need you to check your room in a minute here. So far, it seems the break-in had a different goal in mind. We need to know what it was.”
Heidi squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them, raking her fingers through her hair. They for sure would think she was mad if she brought up what had happened that morning. The old photograph of a woman who looked just like her. A very dead woman. The fact that that same dead woman had appeared at her bedroom window, staring in at Heidi like a wandering soul determining its intent where Heidi was concerned. That same face had vanished as quickly as it’d come and . . .
“There weren’t any footprints outside?” Heidi asked before she could stop herself.
A light of interest sparked in Detective Davidson’s eyes. “No. Why?”
No footprints?
So perhaps not a mere human peering in her window? A person with a soul would have almost made Heidi feel better.
“What is it?” Brad pressed.
Heidi heard a movement behind her, and she turned. Vicki stood there, her arms crossed, balancing a cup of green tea in her hand. Her stormy eyes were sharp, insistent. She knew Heidi well enough to know that Heidi wasn’t being up-front.
She wasn’t one to run from a challenge, avoid risk, or take the easy road. Heidi blew a deep breath from her lips and gave her head a tip, shoving nervousness away like a person shoved a dresser in front of a door so it couldn’t be opened.
This time it worked.
For now.
“I thought I saw a woman this morning,” she admitted.
“A woman?” Detective Davidson raised his eyebrows.
Heidi nodded. “Staring in my window. But, I looked away for a second and when I turned back, she was gone.”
“For heaven’s sake.” Vicki sighed and rolled her eyes.
Brad held his palm toward his wife to shush her. “Did you get a good look at her? What did she look like?”
Oh boy. Heidi shrugged. “It was almost—she was a ghost.”
She saw the officers exchange glances.
“I mean, it was that fast. It was creepy and I—I was freaked out. So, I left. I wanted to see my mom in town, and I had things to do anyway.”
“You didn’t call the police?” Officer Tate asked, no accusation in his voice, just a curious quirk to his mouth.
“Call them for what?” Heidi responded. “There wasn’t anyone there.”
“Did you check?” Detective Davidson asked.
“You mean look out the window?” Heidi saw Vicki take a step forward. She could sense the warmth from Rhett’s arm. He’d long since dropped his grip, but he hadn’t moved away. “No. I mean, sure I looked out the window. But I didn’t go around the lodge to confront anyone. I figured—”
Nope. Best to stop there. One mention that Heidi had even entertained the idea that it had been a spirit, a ghost or apparition in the midmorning light, and Vicki would want Heidi to see her psychologist again. This had nothing to do with her mind, but everything to do with that blasted doppelgänger from the photo that had Heidi seeing sideways.
“You think it could be—” Officer Tate’s question was cut off by Detective Davidson, who held his hand up and stopped the man mid-sentence.
“Could be what?” Heidi asked.
Detective Davidson side-eyed his partner, and his lips pressed together as if he didn’t believe a word of what he was about to say. “It’s nothing, Ms. Lane. Just an old legend in the area about a woman from way back when that supposedly haunted these parts.”
“What? That Misty Wayfair legend?” Vicki rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh.
“Misty Wayfair?” Heidi shot a glance at Brad, then at Rhett. For the first time, a tiny smile tipped Rhett’s mouth. Or maybe not. As quick as she’d thought she’d seen it, it was gone. Like the image at her window. “Who’s Misty Wayfair?”
She remembered the name, scrawled on the back of the photograph. Now it made her skin crawl.
Detective Davidson leveled an irritated glare at Officer Tate. “It’s nothing to be concerned about. Ghosts don’t toss a room and leave threatening messages on mirrors. Well, perhaps a poltergeist, but . . .” He gave his head a quick shake as if he was losing it and rubbed his eyes. “So, here’s what needs to happen. Doors should be locked. Alarm systems won’t work here ’cause you’re too far out for Wi-Fi, right?”
Brad nodded.
Detective Davidson responded with his own. “Thought so. You may want to consider putting in one based off your landline. Of course, this whole thing may have been a prank by some local kids. Who knows? Definitely keep your doors locked from now on, windows too. We’ll keep an eye out on the place, ask around, see if there’s anything else we can find. But for now, the best thing to do is just be sure the place is as secure as you can make it.”
“Who is Misty Wayfair?” Heidi demanded.
The room fell silent. Well, it should fall silent, Heidi figured, because her voice had come out shrill and adamant. Even Vicki had stalled the lifting of her teacup halfway to her mouth.
When no one jumped to answer, Officer Tate gave his partner a hesitant look before responding. It seemed he was the more superstitious of the two.
“She was murdered back in the late 1800s. Story has it, Misty Wayfair is seen from time to time these last hundred years or so. She runs barefoot in the woods, looking for a way out. It’s like she’s trying to escape.”
“Escape? Escape from where?” Heidi took in the faces around the room. None of them seemed to believe the story, and yet no one would look her in the eye.
Except for Rhett.
He answered her with the blunt honesty she’d both wanted and feared.
“The asylum.”
“The asylum?” Heidi responded in disbelief.
Officer Tate had found his voice again. “There used to be an asylum in these parts. Way back when. They say Misty Wayfair’s ghost somehow got locked up with the patients after she was murdered. When the asylum closed, and the patients were dispersed back in the twenties, Misty’s spirit got trapped there. She never left.”
“So they say,” Heidi finished for him, an icy chill traveling down her spine.
“So they say,” Officer Tate affirmed.