A Fright to the Death (17 page)

The room had been quite cold when we walked in and an hour later, it felt like the temperature had dropped even further. We’d shut off Seth’s headlamp to conserve batteries and because every time he swung his head the wild dance of light on the walls made me dizzy. About an hour into our stay, my flashlight died. Seth quickly clicked his on and I made my fiftieth trip around the room to check for a way out. I had it in my head that with all the secret passages and stairways, maybe there was another way out of this secret room. Unfortunately, it had been designed to hide things. There were no windows, no heating vents, not even an electrical outlet or a pipe to bang on in the hopes that someone would hear us.

Neila’s prediction about my mother attending a child’s funeral flashed unbidden into my mind. Panic wouldn’t help anyone. I knew that Mac would search until he found us and
with our canine guards outside the room, it couldn’t be much longer now.

Seth sat on the floor and shivered.

“I’m hungry,” he said.

“We haven’t been here that long. We just had lunch.”

He shrugged and chewed on his thumb.

I held my watch in the beam of Seth’s headlamp.

“Someone will notice we’re missing and they’ll find us. Baxter will be sure to show people the trapdoor.”

“Yeah, but when? How long is the workshop today? What if they go straight in to dinner and we miss it?”

“I’m so glad you have your priorities straight,” I said.

“I wish Vi was better at understanding the animals. Baxter would tell her right away where we went.”

“They’ll find us, don’t worry,” I said as much to Seth as to myself.

The headlamp flickered and went out.

Seth’s disembodied voice said, “Great.”

I took a step in the direction I thought the iPhones were boxed up.

With my hand covered by my sweater, I reached in and grabbed a phone. It took me four tries to find one that still had some power, but I was able to at least find Seth on the floor and sit next to him using the dim light of the iPhone screen.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to touch those,” Seth said.

“I’m only using the one so we can keep checking the time and avoid losing our minds.”

I clicked the phone off and sighed.

Yet again, I had stumbled into trouble and dragged Seth along with me. If his mother had even an inkling of my
guardianship track record, she’d have him home immediately. I had had plenty of time to think while we sat in this room. It seemed the more we discovered, the more complicated the mystery became. Clarissa had alienated her family and most of the staff. Several of the knitters had a grudge against her. And now we had a room full of stolen cell phones. Was that connected to Clarissa, or had we stumbled onto a whole different crime? There were too many possibilities and it seemed almost everyone we interviewed had kept something from us.

But, I knew Seth and Vi were right. I did love to solve puzzles. And my work with Neila Whittle had improved my ability to interpret the messages I received. I’d always been good at finding lost items. Maybe Vi’s idea would work. But could I work with Vi?

Seth sighed. Every sound was amplified in the close, dark space.

Seth’s breathing, my stomach, and then, as faint as possible but still audible, I heard what might have been footsteps outside the door.

I clicked the phone back on and looked at Seth. He had heard it, too. We stood up and started pounding on the door again.

We continued to pound even after the door began to swing open.

“I knew it!” said Vi.

She rushed forward to hug Seth, while Mac took me roughly into his arms as if he wasn’t sure whether he was mad or glad to see me. I held on to him tightly and felt the scratchy wool of his snowman sweater against my cheek. At that moment, nothing could have been better.

“How did you get in here?” Mac’s voice was low and gravelly against my hair.

“Did you figure out the murder?” Vi tapped me on the shoulder.

“Did we miss dinner?” Seth said.

I reluctantly pushed away from Mac and we all laughed in relief. I brushed past Mac and Vi to get out of the room and into the no-less-spooky passageway.

Mac stepped farther into the room and shone his light into the boxes of cell phones. He whistled low and long.

“Somebody’s been busy,” he said.

Mac took about twenty pictures with his phone before he would let us leave.

We all trooped in the direction of the inn. Mac wanted to be sure the tunnel connected to the hotel. We passed through the hallway that held over a century’s worth of cast-off junk. Old baby cribs and strollers sat next to chairs with broken legs and assorted sporting equipment. It seemed that the members of the Carlisle family didn’t like to throw anything away.

We finally got to the area where the staff rooms had been built. The paint was clean and new looking and there was a small room with a freezer and a large refrigerator. Next to that room, we peeked into the utility room, where the generator hummed next to the furnace.

Satisfied that the tunnel did connect all the way from the cottage to the hotel, we went back the way we had come to get to the cottage trapdoor.

When I reached the top of the ladder I was almost knocked back down into the passageway by an exuberant Baxter. Fortunately, Seth was already at the top and pulled him away from the opening. Baxter was so excited to see me that he ran rings around me while hopping up and down. Tuffy shivered in Seth’s arms.

I helped Vi climb out of the hole. Mac was the last one up and he and Seth closed the trapdoor.

Mom and Dad were waiting for us.

“We were so worried about you two,” Mom said. She rushed forward to hug Seth and me.

“That was amazing!” Vi said. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I love this castle.”

“I could do with a few less secrets,” I said.

“What do you think they used that room for?” Seth asked.

“It has to be where they kept the alcohol during Prohibition,” Vi said. She slung an arm over Seth’s shoulder and they walked into the living room chatting about gangsters and bootleggers.

“I’d better go call off the outdoor search party,” Mac said. He walked to the front door, turned, and pointed at us. “No one goes anywhere.”

“He’s kind of bossy,” Vi said after he was gone.

“He was really worried, Vi,” Mom said. “You saw him. I thought he was going to tear the place apart, stone by stone.”

We had settled in the small living room of the cottage to await Mac’s return.

“I would have helped him,” Dad said. He’d been left behind with Mom to coordinate with the other searchers.

“I knew you were fine,” Vi said. She waved her hand dismissively, and put her feet up on the coffee table.

“You did not.” Dad swiveled in his chair to look at her. “You were just as frantic as the rest of us.”

Vi scowled at him and crossed her arms.

Mom paced in front of the window, watching for Mac, I assumed.

“Is there anything to eat in this place?” Seth asked.

“I’ll check the cupboards, Seth,” Mom said. “There’s probably some snacks in there.”

Mom and Seth went into the small kitchenette together
and we heard doors opening and closing. Then we heard bags rustling.

Mom returned with a plate of cookies and set it on the coffee table. She sat next to Dad and he slipped an arm over her shoulders.

“Are we just going to sit here, or are we going to make a plan?” Vi said.

“I think we should wait for Mac,” Mom said. “Besides, I thought you and Clyde had a contest going . . .”

I glanced at Vi. “So everyone knows?” I said to the room.

“I don’t like to root against my own daughter, but you really need a job,” Mom said. “This business with Vi might be just the thing.”

I looked at Dad, who was carefully avoiding my eyes. “You, too, Dad?”

He was saved from having to answer by a blustery gust of wind that blew Mac back into the room.

He stomped on the rug by the door and shed snowflakes.

“It’s getting really bad out there again,” he said. “I’m glad they hadn’t gotten far, it would be horrible if someone got caught outside in this for very long.”

He came and sat next to me and carefully took my hand. I thought it was a nice gesture until he squeezed a little tighter and said, “Tell us why you were stuck in an underground dungeon and hadn’t told anyone where you were going.”

Fortunately, Seth wandered in crunching on potato chips just as Mac asked his question.

“It’s not Clyde’s fault,” he said through a mouthful of chips. “It’s Baxter’s.”

Baxter lifted his head off his paws at the sound of his name. He’d calmed down once everyone had reappeared from the scary hole and lay curled in front of the fire. Tuffy
was glued to Seth’s leg and watched every move of his hand from bag to mouth, hoping Seth would miss.

“How was it Baxter’s fault?” Mac asked. “He seemed to be the only sensible one—he stayed here in the cottage, where it was safe.”

Baxter put his head down and closed his eyes. He, like the rest of us, could probably sense that Mac was winding up for a safety lecture. I would have closed
my
eyes, but Mac’s death grip on my hand kept me vigilant.

Seth, self-appointed as my backup in almost every situation, sat on the floor near Dad. “Baxter had been acting weird since yesterday,” he said. “He didn’t like the room and acted like there was something wrong with the rug. I told Clyde about it and we decided to check it out.”

Vi picked up her knitting and scowled at us. Mom passed a plate of cookies around the room to dispel the tension.

“We didn’t think we needed a whole gang to just check out the trapdoor,” I said. “We got stuck in the room by accident. I didn’t know the door would lock from the outside.”

Mac’s grip was loosening; I hoped that meant he had calmed down.

“I think we should make a pact—nobody goes into unknown secret tunnels without leaving a lookout behind, like we did with Frank,” Vi said.

I cast a “told you so” look in Seth’s direction. He looked away.

“That’s a very good idea, Vi,” Mom said. She smiled at the rest of us to encourage agreement.

“Okay, that’s a good idea,” Mac said. “As much as possible we need to be safe. Something is going on at the castle and now that Seth and Clyde have discovered the cell
phones, I’m worried we’ve stumbled onto a bigger problem than a disgruntled employee.”

“What cell phones?” Dad said.

We explained about the boxes of cell phones and how they could be connected to a black-market ring.

Dad whistled. “I read about that happening in Detroit. You think they’re linked? When they said there was a connection, I just figured one of the suspect’s families lived here or something.”

Mac let go of my hand, finally, and I surreptitiously rubbed the sensation back into it. He leaned forward and glowered at everyone. “This information stays here, in this room. If someone at the castle is involved in selling stolen goods, he or she could be dangerous.” He waited until we had all nodded consent.

“I’d been working on the assumption that Clarissa had been killed because she seemed to make enemies everywhere she went; maybe it was simpler than that,” Mac said. “Maybe she knew about the phones or was involved somehow and that put her in danger. Now that we know about the phones, we could be in danger as well. So we all keep quiet, right?”

We murmured agreement. I took a cookie and crunched it quietly.

“This mystery is getting very twisty,” Vi said. “Maybe we should all list our theories and figure out which one is best.”

I was already shaking my head. “No, you said we can’t work together,” I said.

“We shouldn’t put a small wager between solving the mystery and not . . .”

“What wager?” Mac said.

“I’ll tell you later,” I said.

Mac held my gaze for a moment, but backed off. He probably was still feeling guilty for the AAPD file he had stashed in his room. I was not above using his guilt to avoid a full-fledged fight right in front of my family. And I knew the last thing Mac wanted was my family even more involved in our relationship. I was good as long as I stayed near them.

Mac stood up and pulled me to a stand beside him. “Clyde and I are going to go talk through a few things. We’ll see you all at dinner.”

So much for safety in numbers.

Seth gave me a sympathetic smile and then focused on devouring the cookies.

I shrugged into my jacket and followed Mac out into the wind and snow. It was an unpleasant sixty seconds as we ran toward the hotel. I dreaded the conversation to come, but didn’t want to dawdle in the storm.

“We’d better go tell the knitters that you’ve been found,” Mac said. “Vi made a big deal about going in search of you two.”

Lucille rushed to the door when we entered the library and gave me a brief hug. “We’ve been so worried. Did one of the dogs run away? Did you get lost in the snow?”

“No, Mom, I’ll tell you about it later,” Mac said quietly. “Seth and the dogs are fine as well.” Mac raised his voice so the rest of the group could hear him. “Everyone is fine, and back inside safe and warm.”

The knitters thanked Mac for coming to tell them, and told me they were happy no one was hurt.

We said we’d see them at dinner and turned toward the lounge. Mac and I sat in our spot by the fire.

He put his arm around me and rested his head on top of mine.

We were quiet for a while. Even though we’d argued earlier, I snuggled as close to him as I could get and allowed myself a moment to enjoy feeling safe and happy.

“I think I aged five years in the hour or so we were looking for you,” he said. “I’ve never known anyone to get into so many dangerous predicaments.”

“‘Predicaments’? You’ve been talking to the old ladies too much,” I joked. “Next thing, you’ll be calling Seth a whippersnapper.”

With my head against his chest, I heard the low chuckle and knew he wasn’t really mad.

“He is a whippersnapper,” Mac said. “I liked it better when he called me Detective and acted afraid of me all the time.”

“You did not,” I said. “Plus, he’s spending too much time with your mother to be afraid of you. You should hear the stories she’s been telling him about your younger days.”

Mac groaned. “How am I supposed to keep my air of authority with that going on?”

“You’ll just have to terrorize your junior officers and leave it at that.”

“Speaking of officers, I’d better let Pete Harris know about the phones you found.”

I sat up and turned to face him.

“How do you think it relates to Clarissa’s murder?” I asked. “It has to be a staff member using that room. Does that put all the guests in the clear for her death?”

“I think we need to seriously consider one of the Garretts as the murderer,” Mac said.

“I was thinking the same thing. Linda seems devastated by her death, Jessica not so much, but one of them must be involved with the cell phones,” I said.

“I agree,” Mac said. “I suppose it’s possible that a staff member knew about the secret room and decided to use it to hide the phones, but the Garretts are right up there on my list.”

“It’s less likely it was a knitter since none of them are from here. They are at least innocent of stealing the phones,” I said. “Unless the two things aren’t connected at all. . . .”

We fell into an uncomfortable silence. I was happy to be sitting with him, discussing the case, but I was still annoyed that he’d been snooping on me behind my back.

Mac turned toward me. “Clyde, I’m sorry about the file. I didn’t think I was betraying any trust by looking at it.”

“How
did
you see it then?”

“I wanted to see if there was any truth to your impression that you had done something wrong”—he held up his hand when I started to interrupt—“and there wasn’t. You acted just as you should have.”

I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.” Mac took my hand, but more gently this time.

“I shot that boy because I
sensed
a gun. I
felt
that he was a threat, but didn’t have any proof. After all the years of telling my family I want nothing to do with psychic input, during an emergency situation, that’s exactly what I relied on and it was wrong. As usual.”

I stood and stepped to the fireplace, my back to Mac, and stared into the flames.

“What do you think any seasoned cop relies on in a situation like that?” he said. “They turn to experience and gut feelings and impressions that are informed by years of
dealing with suspects and criminals. No matter what sense it was that told you he was dangerous, it was no worse than any other gut feeling that an officer has to tap into when he or she makes a split-second decision. You rely on your training and your senses—however many you have.”

I turned and must have looked surprised because he quickly rushed on.

“And, in this case, your
sense
wasn’t wrong. Jadyn was dangerous, and had planned to kill someone that night.”

“What?” I sank onto the couch facing Mac. The feeling had been so strong that night. I hadn’t admitted it to myself, but I had been devastated to find out how wrong it had been. I swallowed and blinked back tears of relief.

“He’s recently confessed that he was out on an initiation that night. He was supposed to pick someone, anyone, and shoot them to prove that he had what it takes to be in a gang. The thing is, you interrupted him. He had an older gang member with him to verify his kill. That kid took off in the other direction with the gun. There’s no mention of another suspect in any report—I assume no one saw him. Jadyn said he would have returned to finish the job if he hadn’t been injured.”

“Still . . .” I said. It didn’t erase the guilt I felt, but knowing my instincts had been right at least gave me a small sense of peace.

“He confessed because his injury saved his life. He turned himself around while he was in the hospital. He had a chance to think about the direction his life was headed and understood that you just as easily could have killed him. He came forward recently because his younger brother is caught up in the same trap and he wants help getting him out. So, you actually saved him that night, and by extension the brother as well.”

My head was reeling with this new information. It was already spinning from the whole cell phone cache discovery, but now I had to rethink all my assumptions over the past nine months since the shooting. I stood up again and stepped closer to the fireplace. Even near the fire, I felt cold and hugged Vi’s sweater tighter around me.

“I’m going to need a little time to think about this, Mac.”

He nodded. “I just wanted you to have all the information before you decided to leave police work permanently.”

I turned toward him. I might as well tell him. “I already decided to leave police work.”

“But—”

“No, listen. It’s not because of the shooting. It never really was. I don’t like police work—I’m not cut out for it.”

“I thought it was the shooting that sent you back to Crystal Haven.”

“It was, at first. I felt terribly guilty and I was angry that my psychic information had let me down—again.”

“But now, you want to . . . be psychic?”

“I don’t really have a choice about that. It just is. I can’t block it out, I can only learn to interpret or ignore or maybe even understand it. What I can do is choose whether to let it control my life.”

“So, what will you do?”

“I want to stay in Crystal Haven. I have a few ideas for a slightly different career—don’t worry, it won’t involve me reading tarot cards or telling fortunes.”

“And you’ll be happy here? Even with your family around?”

I nodded.

“Clyde, I was afraid that when your year is up in the house, you would sell it and move back to Ann Arbor.”

“No. Why would you think that?”

Mac shrugged and wouldn’t look at me.

“I’m sorry, Mac. You’re stuck with me.”

He stood and pulled me toward him. As he kissed me, I felt all the uncertainty melt away. The heat from the fire finally penetrated. I felt warm, happy, and safe for the first time in a long time.

We heard a crash in the doorway. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . I only wanted . . .” Kirk and Wally stood in the doorway. Wally had dropped his end of the ladder and stammered his way through an apology.

“It’s fine, come in,” Mac said. “More yarn bombing?”

Kirk nodded once and sighed as he began to set up the ladder.