Captives (Nightmare Hall) (4 page)

Or had it only been thunder?

But it wasn’t thundering outside. That was just rain out there, not an electrical storm. There had been no lightning, no booming thunderclaps.

Lynne, her face still pale, nodded. “I think it did come from upstairs.” Her voice was so low, Molloy had to strain to hear her. “Do you think there’s someone here?”

Molloy shook her head. “No one but us. You said it yourself, the place
feels
empty. The furniture’s draped, the doors are locked. What we heard was probably just the wind. You know these old houses. They’re full of weird drafts.”

These old houses. … Molloy paused, lost in thought, remembering something that Ernie had told her. Something about an off-campus dorm.

She hurried back to the little table in the hall, lifted a thin, yellow-covered telephone book from beneath the phone, and glanced at the name on the cover. “Twin Falls and Surrounding Area,” it read.

Salem University was in the town of Twin Falls. At least they were somewhere in the vicinity of the college.

But there was another name, neatly written in red-ink script directly beneath the heading.

“You’ll be happy to know we’re in the ballpark,” Molloy told Lynne in a subdued voice. She glanced around, her eyes taking in the steep, old-fashioned staircase, the heavy, wooden door, the windows in the entry hall with their worn lace curtains, then the wide arch leading to the library, and an identical arch across the hall leading to the “parlor.” When her gaze returned to the second heading written on the telephone cover, she said in that same somber voice, “But you might not be nearly as happy to know that we might have been better off if we’d kept going, like Toni wanted us to.”

Lynne drew in her breath sharply. “Why? What’s wrong? Is something wrong?”

“I think I know where we are.” Molloy pointed with the tip of one finger. “See that? It’s the name of this place. Nightingale Hall, it says so right there. Unless I’m remembering wrong, we’re in an off-campus dorm Ernie told me about, down the road from campus, up on a hill overlooking the highway, he said.”

Relief flooded Lynne’s face. “Well, that’s great! That’s practically as good as being
on
campus, isn’t it? I mean, I know this place is deserted right now, but it’s still a part of the university, right? So it’s not like we broke into someone’s private home, after all.”

“I guess so.” Molloy bent to replace the phone book. When she straightened up, she added, her face serious, “But it might have been better if we had. There’s a nickname for this place, Lynne. Ernie told me. Because of the terrible things that have happened in this house.”

Lynne leaned against the wall, dread rising anew in her eyes. “I don’t want to hear this, do I? What’s the nickname, Molloy? Tell me!”

“I want to know, too,” Daisy’s voice came out of the hall darkness. “You guys were gone so long, we decided to feel our way through this moldy old place to find you.” Toni was right behind her, following so closely they looked like one person. “So what is it, Molloy? What does everyone on campus call this damp and dreary hellhole?”

“Nightmare Hall,” Molloy answered reluctantly. “They call this place Nightmare Hall.”

D
AMN! THE BOULDER WAS
a waste of time and I practically broke my back pushing it over to the edge of the hill. Even when the boulder didn’t work, I figured they’d run back down the hill to their car. But oh, no.

I ran back inside by my secret entrance and watched from the upstairs window. Couldn’t see very well, too dark, too rainy, but I could make them out, coming up over the crest of the hill. I thought maybe when they saw how creepy this place was, they’d chicken out. Steer clear of it, go around, out to the highway. But they saw shelter, and went for it.

Now what am I supposed to do? Lay low, until they go? And hope they aren’t smart enough to figure out they’re not in this house alone?

That’s what dear old Dr. Leo would tell me to do, if he were still alive and kicking. He’d
s
ay, in that bone-dry voice of his, “Now, we need to hold it together here, right, my friend?” I hated it when he called me that. He wasn’t my friend. He never understood anything about me. And he’d say, “It isn’t their fault they stumbled onto your little hideaway, now, is it? So it wouldn’t be right to punish them. Just keep it together until these four girls leave, and there’ll be no problem.”

But they might not leave. And it
is
their fault! They’re the ones who broke in, who intruded, who destroyed my peaceful privacy.

I didn’t break anything, the way they did. Didn’t even break the padlock on the outside cellar door. Just picked it open. Found an extra set of keys hanging on that peg rack inside the back door, locked all the doors from the inside and pocketed the keys. That’s something, me having the keys. I’ll need them.

If I laid low and didn’t let on that I was here and just let them leave, how could I be sure they hadn’t seen or heard something while they were in the house? Something that wouldn’t mean much to them until they heard about Dr. Leo. Then maybe they’d start to think. They might put two and two together and …

I can’t take that chance.

Oh, no, did they hear that?

Stand still, don’t make another sound. Knew that chair was there, wasn’t paying attention, ran right into it. Don’t pick it up yet, let it lay there, don’t move, don’t even breathe. Maybe they’ll think it was thunder.

No, they won’t. When have I ever been that lucky?

Well, I can’t let them go now. That sound alone is enough to fry me if they remember hearing it after they get to campus and find out what happened to the eminent psychologist, Dr. Milton Leo.

I guess that makes me the warden of their prison, doesn’t it? Well, it’s not like I was going anywhere until the roads cleared.

They’ll be sorry they ever came near this place.

They don’t know it, but they’re my captives now. Forever.

It’s not my fault.

They shouldn’t have broken in here.

Their fault, not mine. Never mine.

I’d better get started. I’m going to be very, very busy.

“N
IGHTMARE HALL?” TONI SAID,
her eyes wide. “This place is called Nightmare Hall? Why?”

Molloy’s expression was grim. “Some girl died here, Ernie didn’t give me all the details. I don’t think he knew exactly what happened. Whatever it was, it was bad. A murder, I think. Or maybe a suicide. And I got the impression that there was more, but he didn’t want to scare me.”

“Even if nothing had happened here,” Lynne said, leading the way to the library, “they’d probably still call it that, because that’s what it looks like. Someone’s worst nightmare. It’s dark now, but you can still see that getting a good night’s sleep here could be a real challenge. The house is so old, it’s probably full of weird noises.” She glanced at Molloy. “Like the one we just heard upstairs.”

“You heard a noise upstairs?” Toni asked.

“Why does anyone live here?” Daisy asked as Lynne and her anemic flashlight led them into the large, high-ceilinged room with the white-draped furniture. “I mean, if everyone thinks it’s so creepy, why would they move in?”

“Because it’s cheap.” The room smelled damp, musty, as if the rain outside were penetrating the walls. “And it’s close to campus. Besides, a lot of kids don’t like living with dorm rules. There’s a housemother, Ernie said, but I guess she’s not all that strict. These must be her socks we’re wearing.”

Toni moved to stand beside the fireplace. “You guys heard a noise?” she repeated. “What kind of noise?”

“Sounded like someone had dropped something,” Lynne said almost absentmindedly. She was staring at the fireplace. “Listen, why don’t we have a fire?”

“Who
dropped something?”

Lynne ignored Toni’s question. “A nice, roaring fire in the fireplace would warm us up. It’s a lot colder in here than it is outside, probably because the house has been closed up. Besides, someone might see smoke coming from the chimney. They’ll think a fire in July is weird and come rescue us. Kind of like sending smoke signals.”

“No wood,” Molloy said, pointing to the firebox beside the hearth.

“I saw some outside. I’ll get it.”

“You’re going outside all by yourself?” Toni asked, her voice high and strained.

“The woodbox is right outside the back door, Toni. We don’t need much. I’ll be right back.”

“You’ll get wet again,” Daisy said. “Put my slicker on. It’s hanging on the kitchen doorknob. And don’t go out there in those flimsy little black slippers. Put your shoes back on. You could step on a nail or something. And take the flashlight. We’re used to the dark now. We can find our way around without it.”

“I will, I will! You guys are worse than my mother.”

Molloy hesitated, then said, “I’m coming with you.” She moved away from what looked like a large couch under its white drape, and headed for the doorway.

“No!” Lynne said sharply. “It’s silly for two of us to get wet. I’m going by myself.”

There was something in her voice that stopped Molloy. She didn’t understand what it was. She only knew that for whatever reason, Lynne was determined to get the wood on her own.

“Okay, okay,” Molloy agreed. “Just hurry back, all right? I don’t think we should be separating until we really know our way around.”

Still, as she turned around and joined Daisy and Toni, both leaning against the fireplace, Molloy’s uncertainty about being in Nightmare Hall grew. If everyone on campus was leery of it, as Ernie had told her, there had to be a reason. Maybe a lot of reasons.

“How could you have heard something being dropped upstairs?” Toni asked when Lynne had disappeared from the room. “We were all down here.”

“Toni,” Daisy huffed, “they didn’t say something dropped. They said it
sounded
like something had dropped. Probably the wind.”

“That’s what we thought,” Molloy agreed. “I mean, it couldn’t have been anything else. The house was locked when we got here, and there’s no food, so there couldn’t be anyone here but us.”

“Well, I say as long as we’re here,” Daisy said, yanking one of the cloths off a large, overstuffed, ugly brown chair, “let’s get comfy, okay? If I don’t sit down right now, I’m going to keel over in front of this fireplace, and you won’t be able to start a fire unless you haul me out of the way first.” She plopped down on the sofa. “Sit, you guys. You make me nervous standing there.”

In the kitchen, Lynne made a face of distaste as she pulled on the wet, muddy sneakers she had shed at the back door. They squished when she took the first step. But Daisy was right. There could be wood splinters near the woodbox out back and the last thing she needed right now was a big, fat, very painful sliver of wood jamming itself into the sole of her foot.

What had she done with her baseball bat? Never mind, she couldn’t carry it and the wood at the same time, anyway. And she was only going to be out there a minute or two.

She pulled Daisy’s yellow slicker over her shoulders and yanked open the back door, just as the flashlight died. Lynne shook it. Nothing. Oh, well, she thought in resignation as she stepped out into the storm, having a working flashlight would be nice, but having dry shoes would be even nicer.

A wide overhang above Lynne’s head provided some protection from the pelting rain as she left the safety of the back porch. It was pitch black out, but she remembered the woodbox being slightly to the right of the porch steps. Her heart pounded with a mixture of fear and excitement when she moved toward the box.

Rain dripped steadily from the eaves as Lynne dropped the useless flashlight on the ground, lifted the woodbox lid, and bent from the waist to search for the right-sized log.

Her fingers had just wrapped themselves around a medium-sized chunk of wood when she heard soft, wet footsteps rushing up behind her. Her head turned to the right to see who it was.

A hand reached out from behind her and plucked a thick log from the woodbox.

“Molloy?” Lynne said.

The log slammed against her right temple. She let out a soft, distressed sigh, then her eyes closed and she slid to the cold, wet ground.

In the library, Molloy said into the musty darkness, “She should have been back by now. It shouldn’t be taking her so long. All she had to do was take a few steps outside to the woodbox and grab a log or two.”

“She’s probably back in the kitchen, taking off her wet things,” Daisy offered. Her head was back against the sofa, her eyes closed, short blonde curls tumbling across the rough brown fabric. “I hope she put my slicker on, like I told her to. And not just for her sake, either. If she doesn’t cover up any log she brings in, it’ll be too wet to burn. I
want
that nice, blazing fire. I can almost feel it.”

Molloy jumped to her feet. “I think we should go help. I know she said not to, but maybe she couldn’t get the woodbox lid open. Come on.”

Groaning, Toni and Daisy left the couch, although Daisy grumbled the whole time they were making their way down the unlit hallway to the kitchen.

Lynne wasn’t there, shedding wet clothing.

She wasn’t on the back porch, either.

“See, I told you,” Molloy said, moving onto the porch to peer out. “I’ll bet anything she couldn’t get that lid open. And she’s so stubborn, she’s probably still trying. We have to go help.”

“We’ll get drenched again!” Daisy complained. “And there aren’t any more dry clothes in that bedroom.”

“Just stay as close to the house as you can. It’s only a few steps, Daisy.”

But staying close to the house didn’t help. The wind had picked up again, whistling eerily around the house, driving the rain straight at the trio as they ran to the woodbox.

There was no one there. No one standing at the box or near the box or behind the box. No Lynne.

“Here’s her flashlight,” Toni said, bending to pick it up. She flicked it on, and was rewarded with a faint but steady beam of light.

“Lynne?” Molloy raised one arm to shield her head from the blowing rain. “Lynne, where are you?”