The Jennifer McMahon E-Book Bundle (68 page)

“W
HAT
?” M
EL SNAPS INTO
the phone.

“I’ll get the book. Tonight.”

Mel laughs. “I don’t care about the stupid book. Do whatever you want.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma says. “For what happened in the movie theater today. I thought…”

“You thought what, Em?”

“You didn’t see anything weird?” Emma asks. “Smell anything?”

Mel gives a disgusted snort. “Right! The only thing I saw was you falling out of your seat and rolling around on the ground screaming like a mental case. I tried to pull you up and you attacked me. What I smelled was a huge load of bullshit—you’re no more crazy than I am. You just want attention and you think that somehow these little stunts are gonna help get your parents back together.”

“What? No…I—”

“News flash, DeForge: your parents are not getting back together. They can’t stand each other. And if you’re not careful, they’ll end up not being able to stand
you
!”

Mel slams the phone down, sending a screech through the wires that goes straight into Emma’s ear; an electronic viper that jumps around in her head, chasing everything else in there away.

“Nine,” she says weakly, hanging up her phone. “Eighteen. Twenty-seven. Thirty-six.”

“Quit counting!” the voice behind her says. Emma turns, sees the Danner sculpture lounging on her bed. “No wonder your parents think you’re nuts. I thought you wanted to help them. I thought you were ready to find out the truth.”

“My parents think I’m nuts thanks to you! What were you
doing
at the movies? You scared me so bad, Danner. I thought you were going to…” She can’t say it:
kill me
. “To hurt me. I hope I
am
crazy and you’re nothing but a hallucination! They’ll give me some medicine and you’ll go away forever; how would you like that?”

Danner laughs—a sound that fills the room, makes the air vibrate, causes each and every hair on Emma’s body to stand on end. “I’m as real as you are,” Danner says. “And soon everyone will know it.”

Henry snaps the journal closed and goes to answer the phone.

“Henry, it’s Winnie. Tess was just here.”

“Jesus.” The wine in Henry’s coffee mug sloshes over the side. “When she left here, she was really pissed about you picking up Emma at the movies. Why would you do that without calling us?”

“Emma called me on my cell, crying and desperate. She just wanted to get out of there. Sounds like it was a horrible scene for her. I was only two blocks away. I just wanted to help, Henry. Anyway, she attacked me, Henry.”

“Emma?”

“No! Tess. She nearly knocked me out.”

“Oh my god, are you okay?” He’s seen Tess hit the bag. Knows the power behind those punches. The unleashed fury she’s capable of.

“Fine. Bruised and swollen, but nothing’s broken. Henry, she threatened to shoot me if I come near Emma again. She thinks I sent the postcards. She also thinks I burned down her studio last night.”

“Jesus,” he says again without thinking.

Tess thinks Winnie sent the cards. Winnie thinks it’s Tess.

Henry’s head is spinning too much to know what to think. He’s just doing his best to keep up with everyone else.

“And that detective was here earlier,” Winnie says. “I think he knows more than he’s letting on. It’s just a matter of time until he figures everything out.”

“I know. He was here. Tess and I stuck to our stories, but it’s as if he knew we were lying.”

“Look, I’ve gotta get away from here. Go back to Boston or something. It’s getting too crazy. Before I leave, I want to float the moose out on the lake and burn it. Put in the wig and the clothes of Suz’s I’ve been wearing. Everything left from that summer. Maybe…I know this might sound crazy, but maybe we should put Emma’s doll in there too.”

Henry takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. Remembers the face he’s sure he saw in Emma’s window. The blond woman who gave him a smile and a wave.

Hallucinations can also occur in patients as the result of stress or exhaustion.

“Emma’s so damned attached to that doll,” he says.

“I know…I just thought that since it looks so much like Suz, since you think you heard it speak in her voice…”

If Emma ever found out, she’d never forgive him.

He remembers the weight of the doll. How solid she was.

Sand. I filled her with Ziploc bags of sand.

“I’ve got Suz’s journal,” Henry tells Winnie. “We should throw that in too. Maybe that’s even better than the doll.”

“You’ve got her journal?”

“Yeah. I took it when Tess and I went back to the cabin just before Emma was born.”

There’s a long pause. Henry holds his breath. Does Winnie think of him as a criminal now?

We’re all criminals,
Tess has said.

“Okay,” Winnie says. “Tomorrow night. We’ll take the canoe and the moose down in the afternoon and get it all set up. Then meet back at the lake after dark. I’ll head home to Boston right after.”

Henry feels a pinprick of pain start behind his left eye.

“Are you sure?” he asks her.

“About burning the moose? Of course. I think it’s what we need to do. If Suz really has come back then I think this may help her to move on.”

“No.” Henry palms his eye, trying to squelch the growing pain there. “Are you sure you have to leave?”

Conspiring with Winnie—sharing secrets, planning to burn the moose out on the lake—has brought him right back to those days with Suz, plotting and planning their next dismantling mission. It’s reminded him of who he used to be, made him feel alive in a way he hasn’t in a long, long time. He’s not ready to let it all go again.

“Henry…I’ve been thinking about what you said. How the messages from Suz look like they’re in my handwriting. What if it
is
me? What if I’m—I don’t know—channeling Suz in some way, blacking out whenever I’m her. I could be doing anything. Going anywhere. This morning, I got up and couldn’t find my keys. I had to go to town to buy glass to fix the window. I finally found them in the truck. In the ignition.”

“So you left them there and forgot,” Henry says.

“No. I would never leave keys in the car. Anyway, almost half a tank of gas was gone. And there were cigarette butts in the ashtray. Except for the one you gave me the other night, I haven’t smoked since college.”

Henry considers this. “Are you taking any medications?” he asks. “I’ve heard stories about people on Ambien doing stuff like this.”

“No, Henry. I’m not taking anything. I don’t even drink anymore.”

“So, what, you think maybe you’re driving around in some kind of fugue state?”

“I don’t know. But whatever’s happening, it’s scary as hell. And I think the best thing is for me to get out of town.”

“This doesn’t sound like you, Winnie. Turning and running.”

He pictures her Compassionate Dismantler self, strong and brave, gun in hand, not afraid of anything. Refusing to back down.

“Sometimes,” Winnie says, her voice breaking a little, “the thing you’re up against is too big. The bravest thing left to do is surrender.”

N
EARLY MIDNIGHT
. T
ESS HAS
worked out, showered, watched the evening news; now she lies alone in her bed, tossing and turning. Her hand throbs from hitting Winnie. Since returning from the cabin, Henry’s been avoiding her. She’s sure Winnie called and told him what happened. Now Henry’s acting afraid of her, as if she’s supposed to be the enemy. Shit.

She called the pediatrician and made an appointment for Emma tomorrow afternoon. She’s decided not to tell Henry—she’ll just take Em herself. Once there’s a plan in place, she’ll let Henry know and he’ll have to accept it, whatever the outcome.

The worst thing is that in spite of all these distractions, Tess cannot get Claire out of her mind. She imagines she now knows what addicts must feel like. She needs a fix. Her whole body is screaming for it.

Claire. She needs Claire.

“Get over it,” she tells herself. Remember the promise you made.

She rises from the bed slowly, looks out the window at Henry’s barn where she sees cracks of light leaking from around the
windows covered in black plastic. She should explain things to him. Tell him why she went to the cabin, why she hit Winnie. Make him see that it’s Winnie who’s behind all this—it’s got to be Winnie.

Once upon a time, Tess and Henry were allies. It was the two of them against the world. And she believed, she truly believed, that somehow they were safe.

Daddy makes all the bad things go away.

She pads softly down the hall, down the steps and into the kitchen thinking she’ll make some tea and call Henry at the barn. Maybe once he’s settled in at the table, she’ll say,
Do you remember the dream you told me about the day we met—about being a cow in a field? Do you still think about it? Wonder if maybe there’s some other life than this that we’re a part of?

But that’s not what she does. Instead, she grabs the cordless phone off the wall and punches in Claire’s number.

“Hello?” Claire says.

Tess wants to speak, but she has promised to give up her lover. Promised God. But does Tess even believe in God? Would He forgive all the terrible things she’s done?

She breathes into the phone, wraps her aching hand around it.

It’s not God’s forgiveness she wants.

“Tess? Is that you?” Claire asks.

“I…I can’t do this,” Tess says.

“I miss you,” Claire says. “My whole body misses you. Do you know what I mean, Tess?”

“What am I supposed to do?” Tess asks, gripping the phone tighter.

“What do you want, Tess?”

“You,” Tess answers simply. “I want you.”

“Sometimes I think,” Claire says, “that everything happens for a reason. From the hummingbird that catches your eye first thing
in the morning to the way the two most unlikely people in the world are thrown together because they’re the only two who can save each other. Do you know what I’m saying, Tess?”

“Yes,” she mumbles back. A tear runs down her cheek, seems to fall in slow motion, then splatters on the tile floor.

“Do you want to be saved, Tess?”

“Yes.” The word is a gasped intake of air. Another tear falls to the ground.

“Come see me. Right now.”

“But Emma…”

“I’ll be waiting, Tess.” Then she hangs up.

Tess holds the phone in her hand a minute, listening to the dial tone. Then she calls the barn.

“It’s me,” she says when Henry picks up. “Look, I need to go out. I’ll be back by breakfast. Can you come sleep on the couch, just be here with Em?”

“Of course.”

She expects a barrage of questions, but all Henry says is, “I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

T
HE HOUSE IS TOO
quiet. He settles in on the couch, turns on the TV. The Weather Channel, volume low so he doesn’t wake Emma. There’s a chill in the room. He gets up, climbs the stairs, and grabs a blanket from the linen closet, then pads down the hall to check on Emma. He gently pushes open the door, peeks in at his sleeping daughter. She’s alone in her bed, no sign of the Danner doll. Thank God. Her eyes move behind pale lids, her lips purse together, then relax. She kicks the covers off, sighs. Henry leans over, kisses her damp forehead, then steps back out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Back down on the couch, he can’t get to sleep. He keeps hearing things: rustling, creaking. Just the old house settling. Mice. Emma’s kitten maybe. Thor. What the hell kind of name is that for a little flea-bitten kitten?

Henry finds the remote and turns it up, catches only some of the words: frontal system, cyclonic.

He should have asked Tess where she was going. And where was she last night when her studio burned to the ground? He
should have demanded answers. Is she having an affair? Or is it something more sinister?

We’re all criminals, Henry. Or have you forgotten?

He hears a floorboard creak. The sound of shoes scuffling across a hard surface.

Footsteps. Definite footsteps. A shuffle-drag, quiet tiptoeing walk coming from the kitchen.

He closes his eyes tight, firmly instructs his brain to shut up and go to sleep already.

More sounds from the kitchen: a rustle and scrape.

Emma’s upstairs. He remembers what she told them the night of the fire:
Danner says it will be worse next time. She says something bad is going to happen.

Henry rolls off the couch in slow motion, blanket tangling his legs like a man trapped in a cocoon. He frees himself, then crawls along the floor toward the kitchen.

He’s crouched, there in the dark, fingers on the Mexican tile floor, cool and rough. He waits. No sound. He has a clear view of the sink, stove, and fridge. No one’s there. The other half of the kitchen, the table and pantry, are blocked from view by the breakfast bar.

Behind him, a man murmurs about a tropical front.

Henry reaches up, feels along the wall behind him, fingers finding the switch. In one swift movement, he stands, flipping it.

The kitchen explodes with light.

Henry screams.

There, at the table, tucked neatly into a chair, is the Danner doll, staring at him, smiling with her stitched red mouth, ugly as a scar.

“Daddy?” Emma calls down from the top of the stairs. Shit. He woke her.

“Sorry, hon,” Henry yells up, not taking his eyes off the doll. “It’s just me. I stubbed my toe. Go on back to bed.”

He waits a minute, hears the upstairs toilet flush. The water runs, then the sound of Emma’s bedroom door being closed.

He and Danner have locked eyes, both holding statue still.

“I’ve had about enough of you,” he tells it.

He pulls back the chair and lifts the doll, reaching under its armpits so that his arms circle its chest. It’s heavy as a bag of cement, a good eighty or ninety pounds at least. Damn sand. What kind of crazy idea was that?

He drags the doll to the broom closet and dumps her there next to the empty buckets, mops, and brooms. Pushing her legs in with his foot, he closes the door. Then, knowing it’s foolish, he grabs a ladder-back kitchen chair and wedges it against the door, under the knob.

“That should hold you,” he says to the closed door.

Inside, something shifts. A broom falls over, maybe, and there’s one loud knock against the inside of the door, then nothing.