The Coffin (Nightmare Hall) (12 page)

“This is for your own good,” he said grimly, not easing his grip on her elbow or her sweatshirt. “You must learn your lesson. We have rules around here, and you have to follow them the same as everyone else. One bad apple can spoil the bunch, you know. If we let you get away with things, we’ll have to let others do the same, and then where will we be? Take your punishment like a man, and your character will be the better for it.”

Later, Tanner would remember those words and realize that they weren’t really his words. He’d been parroting someone else. Someone in authority, someone in control. He was repeating what, sometime, somewhere, had been told to him.

But for now, all Tanner could do was kick and scream and fight with what little strength she had left, trying to save herself from The Booth.

In vain.

She fought valiantly, but she hadn’t eaten anything in too long, and the shock of what had happened to Charlie and Silly had drained her both emotionally and physically. She had so little strength left.

He, on the other hand, seemed as strong as an ox.

In a matter of minutes, Tanner was dumped into The Booth like a sack of laundry, the door was slammed shut against her, and she heard the heavy chunk of wood twisting into place.

“And you’ll stay there until you develop some manners, Miss!” he shouted.

Tanner sat in a lump on the floor, slumped against the rear wall of The Booth, legs bent at the knee, her hands in her lap, listening for the sound of his departure.

It didn’t come right away.

In her darkness, she heard him moving around in the music room, heard him muttering angrily to himself, heard pieces of glass clinking against each other, realized that he was probably cleaning up her mess. Insane … he really was insane.

She went over, in her head, the words he’d said when he was dragging her to The Booth. And she realized that the words had sounded like something that would be said by the head of a school, maybe a strict private school, or a summer camp or a hospital. Not a regular hospital, where you went to mend broken bones, to have surgery, to cure an illness. Not that kind. The other kind.

Sigmund knew her father.

Her father was a doctor.

A doctor of psychiatry.

When he sent someone to a hospital, he sent them to the
other
kind. There were, she knew, residential treatment centers for people their age with mental or emotional problems. She knew because her father sometimes visited them, and often received mail from them. They dealt with behavioral disorders as well as emotional problems, and some might well use a treatment like The Booth for more difficult cases. “Time out,” Sigmund had called it. Yes, that might be something that would be used in the kind of place she was thinking about.

Was that why he was so angry? Because her father had sent him to one of those places?

Tanner glanced fearfully around her hated prison. Well, if Sigmund had spent a lot of time in a place just like this one, she almost couldn’t blame him for being angry. Being in this tiny, airless space was enough to drive even the sanest person insane.

T
HE CUCKOO CLOCK ONLY
struck once while Tanner was crouched on the floor of The Booth, but it felt to her as if she’d been in there forever. By the time he let her out, she was thoroughly subdued. All the fight had been drained out of her by her struggle inside that awful box. The struggle was twofold: first, to breathe properly in spite of the lack of air, and second, to hang on to her sanity. The second was by far the more difficult of the two.

The skylight above her had gone dark. Either night had fallen or the weather had become more severe. Tanner didn’t really care. What difference did it make what was going on outside? She wasn’t a part of it.

Maybe she never would be again.

“I’m going to let you out,” Sigmund warned as he held the door to the booth open, “but if you break or even bend one of the rules, you’ll be back in The Booth so fast, you’ll see stars.”

“I don’t even know what the rules are,” Tanner muttered sullenly. Taking deep breaths of air, she moved quickly away from him to take a seat on the couch. Her feet hurt when she walked, and she knew she should look at them, maybe wash them off in the tiny sink in the lavatory. For now, all she wanted to do was breathe.

He took a seat opposite her, in the leather chair. Crossed his legs, just like her father did.

“No more throwing stuff at the windows,” he said. “I’m not cleaning up any more of your messes.”

Of course he’d figured out how the lamp and candy dish had been broken. He wasn’t stupid. Just crazy.

“I’m hungry,” Tanner complained in that same, truculent voice. “I haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday at noon. Is that how you intend to get your stupid satisfaction, by starving me to death?”

“I’m not going to starve you. I’ll get you a sandwich.” He stood up. The ugly mask looked down at her sternly. “I don’t have to lock you in The Booth while I’m gone, do I?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t have the energy to do anything brave.” That was the truth.

Nodding, he left. The key turned in the lock a moment later.

Tanner let her head rest against the back of the couch. She felt like she’d been swimming through tar. So weak, so tired. How was she going to fight him?

Her eyes went to the screens high on the walls. Nothing out front, just the gray mist of rain, still falling steadily. She could hear it tap-tapping against the skylight, a rhythm as steady as the ticking of a clock. Her eyes went to the screen monitoring the backyard, and there she saw movement.

Tanner sat up. A figure, darting in and out among the bushes and trees, there, behind the gazebo!

She rubbed her eyes. Maybe she’d imagined it. Maybe she wanted so desperately to believe that someone had come to rescue her that she was having hallucinations.

No, there it was again, stealthily creeping from bush to bush.

Rain hat, slicker … could be anyone. Charlie? No. Charlie was hurt. Couldn’t be Charlie.

Light from one of the windows bounced off a pair of eyeglasses.

Eyeglasses. Jodie? It was Jodie, lurking about out there in the shadows? Jodie had come to see why it was that Tanner Leo wasn’t attending classes, wasn’t at orchestra practice, wasn’t anywhere to be seen on campus?

So Jodie hadn’t believed the note.

Tanner’s heart lurched. Charlie hadn’t either, and he had suffered dearly for it!

Be careful, Jodie, she warned silently, her spine stiffening as her eyes remained focused on the screen. He’s here, Jodie, he’s here, in the kitchen, and if he sees you …

Jodie would be careful. She was smart, clever. Smarter than any of the rest of them.

What was Jodie doing out there in the backyard alone? Why weren’t Vince and Philip with her? Where were Sandy and Sloane? They should never have let Jodie come there alone.

But then, they couldn’t know that something was very, very wrong in this house, could they? Because Sigmund had put that note on the mailbox. As far as her friends were concerned, she was off in the Orient with her mother.

Well, Charlie hadn’t bought that. And apparently, Jodie hadn’t either, or she wouldn’t be slinking around in the backyard.

The key turned in the lock, and Tanner jumped guiltily. She would have to be very, very careful to keep her eyes away from that screen. If he caught her looking up there, he’d see what she was seeing. He’d see Jodie.

Tanner shuddered. She would
not
look up at that screen.

If only there was some way she could warn Jodie.

But there wasn’t.

All he brought her was a sandwich, two pieces of bread slapped together with a thin slice of cold meat in the middle. No lettuce, no tomato, no chips, not even any mustard, and nothing to drink.

But maybe that was better. If she ate very quickly, maybe he’d leave. And Jodie would be safe.

He thrust the plate at her. “Hurry up!” he demanded, sitting back down in the leather chair. He didn’t glance up at the screen, didn’t even seem aware of it. “I have places to go, things to do. I don’t want to attract attention by not being there. People ask too many questions, that’s one thing I’ve learned.”

“Are you wearing that disgusting mask because I’d recognize you?” Tanner asked abruptly. “Why else would you wear it? Although,” she added with contempt, “I can’t imagine that someone who’s doing what you’re doing could be someone I actually
know.”

“Maybe I just don’t want you describing me for some clever police artist when all of this is over,” he said.

Hope sprang to life in Tanner’s chest. That sounded like he wasn’t going to kill her, after all.

That hope was dashed immediately when he added slyly, “Or the mask could be because of what you said. Could be that you’d recognize me. Who knows? Just hurry up and eat, okay? I’m late already.”

Tanner chewed hastily. He had places to go, things to do? His absence would be missed? Did that mean he was a student with a busy schedule? Her father treated students. But then, he treated people in Twin Falls, too.

“If my father did something to you,” she said through a mouthful of sandwich, “why don’t you wait until he comes back and deal with him? Why me?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he reprimanded sharply, “or you’ll end up back in The Booth.”

Tanner submitted, finishing the sandwich in two huge bites. She could barely swallow, there was such a lump of fear in her throat for Jodie. Suppose he decided to check the backyard before he left?

She was dying of thirst, but was afraid to send him back to the kitchen. The windows in there overlooked the backyard. She would have to wait, get a drink from the tiny sink in the lavatory after he’d gone.

“I’m outa here,” he said brusquely when she’d finished. “I’m leaving you out of The Booth, but I could come back at any time and check on you. If one single thing is out of place in this room, you’ll be spending the rest of the night in there, and that’s a promise.”

“I’m just going to go to sleep,” she said, feigning a yawn. “I’m tired.” Maybe if he thought she was sleepy, he’d leave more quickly. Without checking out back.

Instinctively, before she could stop herself, Tanner’s eyes rose to the screen. There, the rain hat moved behind a bench near the rose garden.

She felt his eyes on her, and quickly averted her gaze. She shouldn’t have looked. A terrible mistake, after promising herself that she wouldn’t while he was in the room. Had he noticed? Had he seen anything moving on the screen?

She couldn’t tell. He didn’t seem to be looking at it now. But … God, what a careless fool she was!

Maybe he hadn’t noticed.

“I’m not saying when I’ll be back,” he said, taking the empty plate from her hands. “You just better stay where you are, because I could walk in here at any time.”

“You said you’d get me a blanket,” she reminded him. It was already getting cold in the room.

“Changed my mind,” he answered callously. “Don’t have time to go hunting for one. Not that cold in here, anyway.”

“It is too.”

“No, it’s not. Besides, adversity is good for your character. I’d spoil you by giving you a blanket. Spoiling isn’t good for people. It ruins them. You should learn that life isn’t all cozy warmth. Might as well learn it now.”

He was quoting again, she was sure. People their age never said adversity was good for character, except as a joke. He wasn’t joking.

The second he had left the room and the key had clicked in the lock, Tanner jumped up, her eyes flying to the backyard screen. Nothing. She saw nothing but the gardens and the benches and the gazebo and the trees.

Her heart sank. Had Jodie given up? Gone back to campus without checking out the house?

No … there, on the other side of the patio, behind the gingko tree, an arm.

Tanner exhaled. Jodie was still here. And
he’d
gone. Now, if Jodie could only find a way into the house.

It was maddening not to be able to hear anything. Not the front door closing, proving that he really had left the house, not Jodie’s voice if she shouted Tanner’s name, nothing.

She glanced up at the front yard screen. There was nothing there now but the trees, the broken picket fence, and a dark, deserted, rainy Faculty Row.

When her eyes switched quickly back to the other screen, there was Jodie, hurrying through the rain to the back porch.

She must have heard Sigmund leave, or she wouldn’t be approaching the house.

That was reassuring.

To Tanner’s complete astonishment, when Jodie put her hand on the back doorknob, it turned and the door opened.

He’d left the back door unlocked?

Maybe it had never
been
locked, and he hadn’t ever bothered to check. Knowing how paranoid her father was, Sigmund might have just assumed everything was locked. But Silly would have been in and out of that door a dozen times yesterday, not intending to lock it for the final time until she was ready to leave for the day.

But she had never left for the day. So the back door had remained unlocked.

Silly …

Tanner fought back tears. It was Jodie she should be thinking about now, not Silly.

Once Jodie was inside the house, Tanner could no longer see her. She didn’t know what to do. Screaming and shouting wouldn’t do any good. But pounding on the door might. Soundproofing wouldn’t silence the sound of fists hammering on wood, would it? If a tree falls in the forest …

Tanner shook herself. Get a grip! she ordered. This may be your one chance to save yourself from this nightmare.

She ran to the door with every intention of pounding to attract Jodie’s attention. But both hands were still so bruised and swollen from banging on the front wall earlier that day that the slightest touch on the heavy wooden door sent arrows of pain up her arms, making her feel sick and faint. She couldn’t pass out now, not when help was so close at hand.

She couldn’t kick the door, either, with her feet lacerated.

The blows that she finally gave the door were more like pats, gentle slaps, the only pressure she could manage with her hands so sore. Maybe Jodie would somehow, miraculously, hear her tapping.