Tymber Dalton (43 page)

He looked. “Pretty damn spooky, if you didn’t know it was a bunch of towels.”

“Perfect.” She waited a moment more, then pulled them down and tossed them back to Sami. “Put them in the dryer.”

Julie took over the camera, hitting
record
. “This camera doesn’t have audio, only video.” In the viewfinder was a perfectly spooky-looking shape but with no real-life counterpart.

Julie looked at them. “Showtime.” In a very loud voice, “Oh my God, look at that!” She pointed to Matt.

“Holy crap!” he mustered, shrugging at Sami.

“What the hell is that?” Sami said, louder than necessary.

They looked up, collectively holding their breath. They heard Steve’s footsteps in the kitchen, and the door opened. “What’s going on?”

Julie cued Sami. “Steve, you’ve got to see this!” Sami called out.

“Okay. Be right there.” He made his way down the stairs while Matt, Sami, and Julie oohed and ahhed over their “ghost.”

They broke ranks so Steve could look. His eyes widened. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a signature,” Julie explained. “There’s something behind that bookcase.”

Sami couldn’t read Steve’s expression. He sounded a little out of it. “How can you tell?”

“Because we weren’t recording when it started, but all of a sudden it sort of oozed from the wall. By the time we hit record, it was already there. I bet that’s a false wall.”

Julie went to the bookcase and started investigating, as if she had never seen it before.

Matt and Sami pitched in. Steve tried to help, and Sami shooed him away. “Your stitches,” she admonished.

He nodded and sat down, watching the camera screen.

There was another loud, close crack of thunder. “Oh,” Steve said. “The phone’s out. I was using the DSL when it died.”

“Thank God for cell phones,” Matt said, kicking himself. His was up on the dining room table, next to his laptop. At least he had his car keys.

They kept up the act for several minutes. Matt pretended to discover the latch when he “accidentally” dropped the flashlight and had to kneel to retrieve it from under the bottom shelf.

The bookcase swung open. Steve stood while the other three backed away, as if in surprise.

“What the hell?” Matt said.

* * * *

Sami and Julie started to cross the doorway, and Matt stopped them. “Steve, can you carry the camera? You and I should check this out.”

Steve nodded and slowly rose to his feet, shuffling into the doorway behind Matt. “What am I looking for?” he asked Julie.

“Anything that’s a heat or cold source that’s not one of us,” Julie said.

Matt played the flashlight around the room. “Wow, holy crap, look at all this.”

Steve followed the beam of Matt’s flashlight with the camera. “I don’t see anything weird,” he said. “At least, I don’t think I do.”

“What are those?” Matt said, examining the whiskey cases.

You know damn well what those are
. “Don’t know.” They moved closer. Steve tried to joke. “Damn, too bad I was a beer man.”

* * * *

“What is it?” Sami called in.

“Come on in,” Matt answered.

They crowded in and examined the contents. “We can start the cleansing ritual here,” Julie said. “This is perfect. I bet this was George’s secret hiding spot.”

Steve set the camera on the table and pulled down a box. “Hey, Sami, look at this!” Smiling his old smile, he opened a bag and showed her the paper money.

“Holy crap!”

He rifled through it. “You’re going to have fun with this.”

“We,” Sami gently corrected.

He looked confused. “Huh?”

“You’re my husband. We.”

Matt watched the interplay and bit his tongue. He’d insisted on playing the parts. Sami was doing quite well. He almost believed it himself.

They huddled around the note on the table. Matt was afraid to read it again, afraid of the reaction he’d have. His attention was focused elsewhere on the table. The level in the bottle was lower than before.

Steve had visited the room again. But when?

* * * *

Julie gathered them and explained the ritual.

“Before we get started, can we take a break?” Steve asked. “I’m sorry I’m such a drag, I’m just tired.”

“We need to finish your next round of meds, too,” Sami said.

He shook his head. “That can wait.” Sami started to protest, and he smiled. “I’m not a kid, it’s okay. I feel fine, just tired. I’ve been up and down the stairs all day, more than I have in a week or so. I need a break. I made some iced tea, if anyone wants some.”

“That would be great, thank you,” Julie said.

They followed Steve upstairs, which was a good thing because Pog was in the kitchen, drinking from his bowl. Julie, Sami, and Matt exchanged surprised looks behind Steve’s back without him noticing.

While Steve poured the tea, Matt made the excuse of going to the bathroom. On the way he grabbed and pocketed his cell. He could use the downstairs bathroom, but wanted to get the watch from his drawer to give to Julie. He used the upstairs bathroom and fetched the watch.

He paused, looking at the dresser. Something was missing. His change was there, and his Ohio keys. The rental car keys were in his pocket.

Shaking his head, he returned to the kitchen.

* * * *

Matt dropped the watch into one of Julie’s bags, then returned to the kitchen. He gratefully took a glass of tea from Steve and drained half in a few swallows. Sami and Julie wandered into the dining room to go over the ritual items. Steve attentively listened to the explanations.

Pog nosed Matt. “What’s the matter boy, feeling ignored?” The dog pawed him. Matt laughed. “Go lay down.”

Pog padded out of the kitchen, casting a glance over his shoulder.

Matt’s attention drifted. It was only three o’clock, but felt a lot later because of the storm. The wind had died down some but the rain still fell hard and steady. The main road would be total slop.

He drank more tea. Steve appeared normal, which was a good thing, he supposed.
Maybe this will work out for the best.

* * * *

Sami finished her tea. Julie drained hers and handed the glass to Steve. “Thank you. That was good.”

“You’re welcome.” He took the glasses into the kitchen.

The women talked for a few more minutes when Julie paused, as if losing her train of thought.

“What’s wrong?” Sami asked.

Julie shook her head. “I don’t feel so good.” She sat down. “I don’t feel good at all.”

“Would you like to lay down?” Steve asked.

Worry creased her face. “No, actually, I think it might not be a bad idea for me to go home.”

Sami tried to talk her out of leaving. Matt appeared in the kitchen doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“Julie’s not feeling good.”

“Want me to drive you?” Matt asked, not feeling too good himself all of a sudden.

“No, I’ll be okay. My Element has four-wheel drive, I can make it. I’ll come back tomorrow to finish.” She retrieved her purse and keys, and Sami walked her to the front door.

Sami watched as Julie stumbled through the puddles to her Element, climbed inside, and tried to start it. After a few minutes, she returned to the house. “I think the battery’s dead.”

Steve stepped forward and caught her arm as she stumbled coming through the front door. “You should go upstairs and lie down. Do you have AAA?”

She nodded. “I’ll have to call them.”

“Give me your card. I’ll call them for you. You go upstairs and lay down.”

Sami watched her nod. Julie sat on the bottom stair while she fumbled through her wallet. Finding it, she handed Steve the card.

Steve smiled. “Let me find my cell phone. The landline’s still out.”

Matt’s head felt fuzzy. He handed Steve his phone. “Here, use mine.” He stepped back into the kitchen and sat at the table. He felt woozy all of a sudden. Like he could close his eyes and go to sleep.
Must be the weather.

The three empty glasses sat on the table.

Something tried to push through Matt’s mind, an idea he couldn’t quite grasp.

Three glasses. Why did that bother him so much?

He spotted an empty pill bottle on the counter.

* * * *

It has to be the weather.
Sami yawned, wanting to curl up and go to sleep. “I’ll be right back,” she said, going upstairs. It took a lot of effort to make it up the stairs to the master bathroom.

She splashed water on her face and braced herself against the sink. Maybe she needed coffee.

Looking down, she spotted a small, balled-up wad of paper on the floor behind the door. She picked it up and unrolled the grocery receipts.

Her heart raced, chasing a little of the fogginess from her brain.

Then she realized Steve hadn’t drank any iced tea.

It all clicked together. The black smudges she spotted on Steve’s hand earlier. He did something to Julie’s car.

I have to warn the others.

* * * *

Matt stared at the empty pill bottle.

His gaze returned to the empty glasses.

The pill bottle.

He wanted to put his head down and sleep.
What is wrong with me?

* * * *

Sami didn’t trust her legs. She clung to the banister all the way down the stairs. She heard Steve in the dining room, talking with AAA.

Julie’s eyes were closed. Her head rested against the wall.

“Julie,” she whispered, shaking her. “Wake up!”

Julie’s eyelids fluttered. She mumbled something. Sami knew it was useless. Whatever it was, it hit her, too. She felt she’d be out in a few minutes. They had to get out of the house. Matt would have his keys. They’d use his car.

Where
was
Matt?

Sami tried to make it to the kitchen but collapsed on the couch. Looking through the kitchen doorway, she spotted Matt at the kitchen table, totally zoned out. He looked at her as her vision swam.

Steve walked out of the dining room. Sami felt powerless to stand. He watched her while he talked on the cell and checked Julie, who was now softly snoring with her head tilted back against the wall.

Steve peeked his head around the kitchen doorway, saw Matt, and in mid-sentence he stopped talking and pocketed the phone. Sami realized with growing horror he had not made any call.

Steve smiled. It was George Simpson’s red-eyed leer. He walked over to Sami. It was all she could do to focus her vision.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know what you did with him.” He hooked a thumb toward the kitchen. “I know you’re a lyin’, poisonous whore. But that one”—he pointed to Julie—“is trying to kill me. Don’t worry. I’ll show all of you.” He pulled Sami to him and kissed her roughly, jamming his tongue into her mouth.

She was powerless to pull away and tasted the whiskey on his breath. It might be her husband’s body, but this wasn’t Steve.

It was George Simpson.

He roughly shoved her back onto the couch. Then she watched as he walked to the downstairs bathroom. She heard the sound of ceramic rattling. A moment later, he returned with a whiskey bottle and took a long, deep slug straight from it.

As Steve walked into the kitchen, Sami’s voice failed her. Why couldn’t she move? She had to warn Matt.

* * * *

Matt watched Steve walk over to Sami. At least Steve seemed fine. Steve leaned over and kissed Sami. She looked like she was trying to pull away but didn’t have the strength.

Matt felt his anger rise as realization dawned. He struggled to stand. Using the table for support, he moved close enough to read the pill bottle label.

Steve Corey. Dated Tuesday. Thirty pills.

Valium.

All gone.

Three glasses.

Matt stared at the nearly empty pitcher of iced tea and knew.

He stumbled for the kitchen door. He had to get out of the house. Steve had his cell phone. Matt thought he could get to his car.

He didn’t hear Steve walk into the kitchen behind him and grab the heavy, cast-iron skillet off the stove.

* * * *

Sami couldn’t keep her eyes open. What had Steve done to them? Steve turned to where Matt staggered toward the kitchen door. As Steve grabbed the skillet, Sami tried to yell a warning, but it came out a weak moan.

Steve swung the pan, connecting with the back of Matt’s head with a sick, dull clang. Matt collapsed to the floor with a sickening
thud
. She sobbed as Steve leaned over Matt’s body. Then he turned to her and grinned.