Authors: John Manning

The Sound of a Scream (28 page)

BOOK: The Sound of a Scream

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Christopher grabbed Daphne by the arm and buried his face in her shoulder.

But suddenly the chest stopped moving. The sounds of exertion ceased.

Had he given up?

But then—

A blast.

A gun.

And then another.

Shards of wood flew off the chest. Sawdust and the smell of gunfire filled the air of the storage room.

Christopher screamed.

Another shot, and the chest collapsed into itself, broken wood everywhere, linens and blankets tumbling onto the floor. The shotgun blast exposed the opening to the secret passage, and from that opening Daphne now saw a pair of protruding hands, shoving aside what was left of the chest.

Then, to her horror, she watched as the man himself stepped inside the storage room.

TWENTY-FOUR

Daphne was about to fling back the bolt on the door and make a mad dash out of the room with Christopher, her heart broken about having to leave Ben behind, when she took a good look at the man who was now standing in front of her and realized she didn’t need to run. At least, she hoped she didn’t need to run.

It wasn’t Gabriel.

It was Gregory.

“Daphne!” he shouted, rushing over to her and throwing his arms around her, raining kisses down on her face.

Daphne hesitated for just a second—she had been through so much in the past twenty-four hours it was hard to know who she could trust—but then she wrapped her arms around Gregory as well. She felt his heart beating, and she knew he loved her. He would never hurt her. She had been wrong, so very wrong, to suspect him.

“Gregory,” she gushed, “how did you find us?”

He sat back, taking her in and looking over at Ben and Christopher. He wore a heavy winter parka, snow still clinging to the arms and hood, as well as his boots.

“I was worried about you,” Gregory said, out of breath. “And from what I’ve seen upstairs, I had reason to be worried—and not just because of the storm.”

“You’ve been upstairs?” Daphne asked.

“Yes,” Gregory told her. “I came up here and when no one answered, I went inside—and I found the bodies of Suzanne and Louella.”

“It’s Gabriel,” Ben said with difficulty.

“Gabriel?” Gregory asked, in utter astonishment.

They filled him in, explaining that it wasn’t just Suzanne and Louella who’d been murdered, but everyone in the entire house, except for the three of them.

“And maybe, hopefully,” Daphne added, “we’ll find that Mr. Witherspoon is still alive.”

“What was with the shooting in the passageway?” Ben asked.

Gregory sighed. “If I had known you three were in here, I might not have risked using the gun,” he said. “But it was the only way I could think of to get that chest out of the way.”

“How did you even know about the passageway?” Daphne asked. “Did you come down here from the study?”

“No, I came from outside,” he told her. “There’s a way to get here from the back of the house. You knew that, Ben, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Ben replied, leaning back against a shelf, his eyes closed. “We used to sneak in here as kids, you and me and Donovan and ...” His voice broke. “Gabe.”

Gregory was nodding. “The secret passageways in this house go every which way, take all sorts of turns. Once I saw the bodies of Suzanne and Louella, I heard commotion down here in the basement, and I figured others—including you, Daphne—might be in danger. And I also figured I’d be more effective if I came in through the cellar, rather than just blunder down the stairs into the middle of a murder scene.” He smiled. “I didn’t expect to find you in here. You’ve saved me from having to go looking for you.”

“How did you even get up here, in this blizzard?” Daphne asked, realizing they hadn’t even inquired of Gregory that most basic fact.

“Snowmobile,” he told her.

Daphne smiled. So their rescuer would come on a snowmobile after all.

Ben was starting to turn a deathly shade of gray, so Daphne held the water bottle up for him to drink again. “He needs a blood transfusion soon,” she told Gregory. “He’s lost so much.”

Gregory looked concerned. “Problem is, I can’t fit more than one other person on the snowmobile. Well, maybe I could fit Christopher, too. He’s small enough.”

The boy beamed up at Gregory, who tousled his hair.

Daphne nodded. “That’s fine,” she said. “You take Ben and Christopher back down to the village. Get Ben to a doctor immediately. Then you can come back here and get me.”

“No,” Ben groaned. “Can’t ... leave you ... alone ...”

“That’s right, Daphne,” Gregory said. “The passageway isn’t even secure anymore. I blew the chest to smithereens. Gabe could get in here very easily.” He looked behind him at the dark aperture in the wall. “In fact, he might be in there now.”

He checked his gun. Daphne saw he still had plenty of ammunition.

“I’ll push another crate up against it,” she said. “I’ll pile all these boxes, too. He would take him an awful long time to dig his way in, and by then, you’ll have the entire police force coming up here on snowmobiles.” She smiled weakly. “At least, I hope you will.”

“No, I’m just not comfortable leaving you here alone,” Gregory insisted.

“You must!” Daphne demanded. “Otherwise, Ben will die.”

Ben tried to speak, no doubt to offer some form of protest that he’d be fine, but found he couldn’t even form the words. Christopher scrambled over to him with another bottle of water.

“Daphne,” Gregory said, “if anything ever happened to you—”

He stopped speaking. His nostrils were suddenly flaring.

“Do you smell that?” he asked in alarm.

“Smoke ...” Daphne said.

Sure enough, from the passageway, plumes of gray smoke were now billowing into the storage room. Already the place was filled with a misty gray haze that burned Daphne’s throat. All four of them began to cough.

“He’s trying to smoke us out,” Gregory said.

“I can see flames way in back of the passage,” Christopher told them, scrambling over toward the opening, his hand covering his mouth and nose.

“Jesus Christ,” Gregory said, “he’ll burn the house down!”

“Maybe that was his intent all along,” Daphne said.

Gregory was gripping her arm. “Whatever his intent, we can’t stay in here. We’ll asphyxiate. The smoke will overpower us before much longer.”

He grabbed the burlap sack and dumped out the bottles of water.

“Rip off a piece of clothing, douse it with water, and hold it to your face,” Gregory instructed.

They all complied. Daphne first tore a piece of her blouse, soaked it, and handed it to Ben. He managed to hold it to his face. Then she repeated the process for herself.

“We’re going to have to risk going out into the house,” Gregory told them from behind his wet cloth. “If we can stay real close together, I hope to be able to hold Gabriel off.” He held his gun in front of him with his free hand.

“Ben, I’ll help you back into the wheelchair,” Daphne said.

He shook his head. “That would just ... slow you down.... Leave me here.”

“No!” Daphne insisted. “I won’t leave you!”

“Ben, my old friend,” Gregory said. “Can you walk at all?”

“I’ll try,” Ben replied. “But if I fall ... if I can’t continue ... you’ve got to go on without me. Promise?”

“We’re promising nothing yet, buddy,” Gregory said. “First you get on your feet.”

The room was now nearly filled with smoke. Daphne’s eyes were stinging. She could hardly see. She realized the fire in the passageway could easily spread to the entire house, burning Witherswood to the ground. They might get out—she hoped and prayed they would—but what would surely burn along with the house were all the letters in the box marked M. All of her history, reduced to cinders. She couldn’t very well carry the entire box, but she could save a random portion of it. In a flash, her free hand plunged into the box, grabbing as much as she could. Withdrawing the fistful of crumpled envelopes and papers, she stuffed them deep down inside her blouse.

Then, as the smoke obliterated the last of her vision, she reached up and placed her fingers on the bolt of the door, ready to slide it open.

With an assist from Gregory, Ben stood. He seemed steady enough.

“You carry the flashlight, Christopher,” Gregory told the boy. “Make sure to keep it pointed in front of us, so we can see our way.”

Christopher quickly snatched up the light.

“Okay, then, let’s go,” Gregory commanded.

Daphne slid the bolt and opened the door.

Her fear was that Gabriel would be waiting on the other side. If he had reloaded the rifle, he could have easily taken them all out on the spot, one by one, as they came out of the smoky room. If he just had the razor, however, he might only get one of them before the other three overpowered him. Either scenario was not one that Daphne hoped to encounter.

But to her great relief, Gabriel was not there when they opened the door.

They stumbled out of the storage room coughing and wheezing. Hot tears rolled down Daphne’s cheeks. They gasped for breath, gulping down as much of the frigid basement air as possible, providing soothing relief to their smoke-filled lungs.

“Keep your wet cloths,” Gregory ordered. “The fire might spread.”

Daphne clamped the fabric back to her mouth. The smoke was billowing out of the storage room now and filling the corridor that led to the main part of the basement. She could hear the crackle and snap of flames behind her.

“Mr. Witherspoon might still be alive,” she said from behind the wet cloth. “We need to stop in the study and see—”

She saw the look Gregory gave her, but it was Ben who spoke.

“Daphne, we can’t take that chance,” he said.

With a heavy heart, she nodded. She understood there was no time to waste.

They ran. First down the corridor, making sure to close to the door behind them, trapping the smoke for the time being, and then through the basement, passing the body of Ashlee, soaking in a large puddle of her own blood. Christopher did his part, making sure they had enough light to see their way as they ran.

When they reached the stairs, however, they saw that the dawn was breaking. A soft, lavender light spilled down from above. As they made it up to the first floor of the house, Daphne started to believe they’d really made it, that they’d be able to get out of the house before Gabriel got to them. Just what they’d do
then
, of course, they hadn’t had time to decide. Gregory’s snowmobile couldn’t fit them all, so they remained stuck with their earlier dilemma. Still, for the moment, all Daphne cared about was getting out of the house without encountering Gabriel. She’d take her chances in the snow.

But then, as they ran past the parlor and into the front foyer, which was filled with early-morning light, all of her hopes were dashed.

One instant, Gregory was running a couple of feet in front of her.

The next instant, he was down.

Gabriel was on top of him.

He had been waiting for them, anticipating their escape route. As they’d emerged into the foyer, Gabriel had jumped down from his perch on the landing of the great marble staircase. His aim had been impeccable. His feet landed squarely on Gregory’s back, sending him down, face first—and his gun cannonballing across the room. Daphne could hear Gregory wheezing. The breath had been knocked out of him.

Quick as a flash, Gabriel leapt off of Gregory and onto Daphne, who screamed. He held her in front of him in the crook of his elbow. She heard, rather than saw, the razor come out of his shirt, and then, once more, she felt its cold metal on her neck.

“I had hoped to finish off Daphne last,” Gabriel said, rather petulantly, as if he was truly disappointed, “because she’s the newest member of our little clan.”

Ben was white-faced, holding on to the banister of the staircase to keep from falling. Christopher stood in front of him, big button eyes staring in horror. Gregory was gasping for air on the floor, his face covered in blood—a broken nose? He was trying to sit up but was not having any success.

“But I must admit,” Gabriel continued, laughing now, “I’m delighted to have the chance to include Gregory Winston the third in our little family reunion. What an unexpected benefit. All of us, back together again!”

“Gabe,” Ben said, his voice terribly weak, “you don’t want to do this... .”

“Oh, but I do, dear brother, I do! I’ve waited so long for this!”

“Daphne’s never done anything to you,” Ben told him. “Let her go.”

“Hey, believe me, I considered sparing Daphne. She had many chances to get her butt out of this house.” He sighed. “But see, now that I know she’s got as much of that sick, poisoned Witherspoon blood as the rest of us, well, she has to go, too.”

“Don’t hurt Daphne!” Christopher shouted.

Gabriel hissed. “You little brat. I never liked you. I’m going to enjoy cutting that throat, believe me!”

Daphne knew she had one chance.

She prayed that her aim was good.

She reached down with her right hand and grabbed Gabriel’s crotch.

And she squeezed as hard as she could.

Gabriel screamed.

He could have cut her with the razor at the moment. It was right at her throat. Daphne knew she was taking an enormous chance.

But it was the only chance she had.

So she took it.

And it paid off.

As Gabriel screeched in pain, he let her go. She bolted away from him.