The Unwanted (35 page)

Well, he’d fix that, as soon as he found them.

He might not know much, he told himself, but he sure as hell knew what to do with women.

It was Cassie’s fault—all of it!

And Lisa was about to make her sorry.

She walked quickly along Oak Street, glancing furtively to each side whenever she stepped into the pools of illumination cast by the streetlamps. She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter if anyone saw her. It wasn’t even midnight yet, and she had a perfect right to be out walking.

Except that if anyone saw her, and remembered seeing her …

She hadn’t known what she was going to do when she’d gotten home from the dance. Still furious, she’d ripped off her ruined dress, changing into jeans and one of her father’s old sweaters, then stuffed the dress into the trash barrel behind the garage. At least her parents weren’t home, so she didn’t have to explain to them what had happened. She’d turned on the television set, but only sat staring unseeingly at it, her fury steadily growing, focusing on Cassie. There had to be a way to get even with her. There had to be!

It was during the eleven o’clock news that the idea came to her. She hadn’t really been watching the television until the screen glowed brightly with flickering reds and oranges, catching her attention. With her anger still burning, she listened to the report of a fire in Boston.

A fire that had been set deliberately, with a book of matches and a can of lighter fluid.…

Her father kept lighter fluid in his den, along with all the
other junk he used to take care of the pipes her mother hated so much but that he wouldn’t give up.

By the time the news ended, she’d made up her mind, and by eleven thirty-five she’d found what she needed and slipped out of the house.

So far it had all been easy.

She came to the park and left the sidewalk, pushing her way into a clump of lilac bushes that edged the lawn. As the heavy foliage closed around her, she breathed a sigh of relief and let herself relax. Though clouds were scudding across the sky now, enough moonlight filtered through the branches so she could see where she was going, and it occurred to her she might not need the flashlight in her pocket at all.

Lisa worked her way through the bushes slowly and carefully, the anxiety she’d felt on the sidewalk quickly transformed into a thrill of excitement.

She came to the edge of the lilacs and paused. Twenty yards of open lawn separated her from the next thicket.

Should she run, hoping to make it across the open space before anyone could notice her, or should she simply step out onto the lawn and not worry if anyone saw her?

But why would she be alone in the park at night? The sidewalk was one thing—she could be going anywhere. But the park was something else again. She crouched in the thicket for a few more seconds, then made up her mind.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped deliberately out of the bushes and slowly sauntered across the grass, doing her best to look as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Only when she was within a few yards of her goal did she lose her nerve and break into a quick trot. And then, once again, she was safe from any prying eyes. From here on it would be easy.

She moved more confidently now, pausing again only when she came to the far side of the thicket. Parting the leaves with her hands, she looked out over the marsh.

The evening breeze had died away, and the only sound Lisa could hear was the rhythmic pounding of the surf on the beach. With the strange amplification of sound at night, she could hear even the soft hiss of each dying wave as it spent its energy on the sand, followed by a short silence as the next wave built up for its assault on the shore.

Over the marsh itself there was an eerie stillness that
almost made Lisa change her mind. Her confidence ebbed away, and she shivered involuntarily at the thought of going out into the bog alone. For the first time in years she remembered the stories she’d heard when she was little, about the ghosts that haunted both the marsh and the cabin it surrounded. But they were only stories, and Lisa knew there were no such things as ghosts.

Indeed, the only truly fearful things that had ever been in the marsh were Miranda and her hawk, and now Miranda was dead.

But what about the hawk? Where was it?

She lingered a few more moments, unwilling to take that first step into the bog, and when she finally left the shadowy security of the lilac thicket, she stayed on the narrow path skirting the marsh, leading toward the friendly familiarity of the beach and Cranberry Point.

There was no hurry, she told herself. She had plenty of time.

Her step quickened, and as she neared the beach, her cold anger fed her confidence. It was going to be all right.

Already she could see the cabin—the cabin that Cassie Winslow loved so much—burning brightly against the night sky. By morning, only a heap of smoking ashes would be left.

Inside the cabin a single oil lantern burned on the table beneath the peak of the roof—its wick turned so low that only a soft glow suffused the room, leaving the corners in shadowy darkness. Eric had built a fire in the stove, damping it down so that it was no more than slowly burning embers, the little smoke that escaped up the chimney invisible against the blackness of the night sky. The cabin was warm, and had a cozy feeling to it that his own house had never had. It seemed to welcome them, shielding them from the rest of the world. And even with the lamplight and the fire, Eric knew that from the outside the cabin would still appear to be deserted. He grinned at Cassie. “How long do you suppose we could stay here before anyone found us?”

“Sometimes I wish it could be forever,” Cassie replied, scratching at Sumi’s ears. He was curled in her lap now, purring contentedly. They’d found him outside the gym, skulking in the darkness, but when Cassie had called to him,
instead of running to her and leaping into her arms, he’d dashed the other way, then paused, his tail twitching as he twisted his head around to look at them. For the next thirty minutes he’d darted away, just out of Cassie’s reach, then waited, leading them on until they realized where he was going.

“I wonder why he brought us out here?” Eric mused, his eyes drifting from Cassie to the animal in her lap. “It almost seems as if he knows something we don’t.”

“Sometimes I think he does,” Cassie replied. She tried to explain to Eric the strange connection she had with the cat, talking hesitantly at first, afraid he might laugh at her.

But he didn’t laugh.

Instead he listened to her intently, and when she was done, asked her a question: “Is that the way it is with Kiska too?”

Cassie nodded. “When Mr. Templeton shot him, I could feel it. It sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

Eric hadn’t answered the question directly. Instead his eyes had taken on a faraway look, as if he were thinking about something else entirely. “Lots of things are crazy,” he’d said at last. Then, almost reluctantly, he stood up. “I’ve got to go home,” he said.

“Why?” Cassie asked. “Your dad doesn’t want you around, and Rosemary doesn’t want me around. Why can’t we just stay here?”

Eric hesitated only a split second. “I can’t. If I do, my dad’ll find out and he’ll kill me.” When Cassie didn’t move, he cocked his head uncertainly. “You coming with me?” he asked.

Cassie hesitated. She knew she ought to go home, knew that if she didn’t, Rosemary would be furious with her. But Rosemary, she was certain, was furious with her already. And there was a warmth and comfort about the cabin that made her feel closer than ever to Miranda. She shook her head. “I’m staying here.” Her eyes met Eric’s. “If Rosemary asks you, don’t tell her where I am. All right?”

Eric shrugged. “I guess. You sure you’ll be okay?”

Cassie smiled at him reassuringly. “Of course I will. This place feels like it’s really mine—it’s the first place I’ve ever been where I really feel I belong.”

A moment later Eric was gone, and Cassie was alone in the little cabin, with only Sumi for company.

Lisa froze.

Twenty yards away a dark figure had stepped out of the marsh onto the dunes that formed Cranberry Point. But that wasn’t possible, was it? She’d been watching the marsh so carefully, looking for any signs of movement, and she could have sworn there were none.

And yet someone was there, standing still, staring out over the moonlit sea. Then the figure moved, and started toward her.

She stepped back, pressing herself into the small clump of shrubs that stood alone at the corner of the parking lot which served both the park and the beach. If she stood perfectly still, maybe the person would pass by without seeing her.

As the figure grew closer, she knew who it was.

Eric.

Her whole body tensed with anger. But what was he doing out here? Was Cassie with him? No—he was alone.

Then she understood.

He’d been out in Miranda’s cabin, and Cassie must still be there.

She smiled darkly—that would make it even better.

She shrank deeper into the bushes, holding her breath.

A twig snapped.

She saw Eric stop, saw him turn toward her. But maybe it still wasn’t too late. If she held perfectly still—

“Who’s there?”

Eric’s voice was startlingly loud in the stillness of the night. Despite herself, Lisa jumped slightly. Instantly Eric’s body shifted, and she knew he’d seen her. There was only one thing left to do.

“It’s me!” she exclaimed loudly, stepping out of the bushes into the moonlight.

Eric stared at her. She’d changed her clothes, and was dressed in jeans and a black sweater now, with a scarf tied around her head. But why was she here? What was she doing, sneaking around in the middle of the night?

The memory of her slaps stung sharply, and his eyes narrowed. “What are you doing out here?”

“J-just taking a walk,” Lisa replied, but the hesitation in her voice told Eric there was more to it than that. “You won’t tell anyone you saw me, will you?” Lisa asked anxiously.

“Not tell anyone?” Eric demanded. “Why shouldn’t I? And what the hell are you doing, hiding in the bushes?”

“I—I didn’t know who you were,” Lisa stammered. But almost against her will her hand closed on the can of lighter fluid and the book of matches in her pocket. Eric saw the movement.

“What have you got?” he demanded. “You
are
doing something, aren’t you?”

“No!” Lisa said, too loudly. “I was just—I just wanted to go for a walk,” she said, her voice taking on a belligerent tone. “Isn’t that all right with you? You don’t own the beach, do you? Or is it only you and Cassie who are allowed to come out here?”

Eric looked at her carefully. She
was
up to something—he was sure of it. But what? And why was she dressed like Cassie? “What’s in your pocket, Lisa?” he asked. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing!” Lisa insisted, her temper once more slipping away from her. She took a step backward but missed her footing and stumbled in the sand.

Eric moved closer, grabbing at her arm. “You tell me what you’re doing!” he demanded. Lisa struggled in his grip but couldn’t wriggle free.

Then, from the road beyond the parking lot, Eric heard something and looked up.

On Cape Drive he saw the familiar shape of his father’s pickup truck. It was weaving slightly, and instantly Eric knew his father was drunk and looking for him.

“Come on,” he said to Lisa. “It’s my dad.” Jerking roughly on her arm, he pulled her out into the dunes and the beach beyond.

The marsh
, Ed Cavanaugh thought. That’s where he’d found them last time, and that’s where he’d find them this time. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator while slamming the transmission into a lower gear. There was a
satisfying shriek as the tires spun wildly for a second then caught, shooting the truck forward. Ed’s eyes fixed on the pavement ahead as he raced past the summer houses that lined Cape Drive. Just ahead was the expanse of tall grass that marked the beginning of the marsh. Then, out in the dunes that separated the marsh from the beach, he saw two running figures—a boy and a girl—their hands clasped together.

Eric and Cassie, he thought.

Ed’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as his fury grew. Ahead, on the left, he saw the parking lot and veered the truck off the road. It wasn’t until he was nearly across the lot that he realized he had no intention of stopping.

Tonight there would be no shouting from the cab of his truck.

Through a haze of alcohol he imagined he could see them clearly now—see the grins on their faces. Hell, he could even hear them, and knew what they were laughing at.

They were laughing at him
.

But they wouldn’t laugh much longer. When he got done with them, they’d never laugh at him again.

Cassie sat quietly, enjoying the solitude of the cabin, feeling the peace that Miranda must have felt here. Though there was no one else around, she didn’t feel alone. If she listened carefully, she could hear the sounds of the sleeping birds murmuring in the marsh, and the raccoons and other creatures as they moved through the wetlands, searching for food.

Strangely, she felt less lonely now, with only the birds and animals around her, than she ever had before. And then—his back arching as an angry hiss boiled out of his throat—Sumi leaped out of her lap and darted over to the door. She looked at him curiously, then understood.

Someone was out there.

Someone who meant her harm.

Tears of frustration flooded her eyes. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? Why couldn’t they just let her be?

Without thinking, she went to the door and opened it a few inches. “Go see, Sumi,” she said softly. “Go find out who it is.”

Like a ghost, his padded feet making no sound at all, the cat disappeared into the night.

Eric jerked Lisa to a stop. Turning, his eyes fixed on the truck. It should have stopped in the parking lot. But it hadn’t. Instead it was still coming, jumping slightly as its tires struck the low curbing that separated the paved lot from the sand of the beach. Now it was crossing the beach itself, slogging through the soft sand toward the water. When it reached the hard-packed wet sand near the water’s edge and turned toward them, he realized what was happening.