The Evil Inside

16

“I can’t imagine why she’s not here yet,” Angela said, taking a seat at the wine bar. “I talked to her quite some time ago. She was visiting the members of the church, but she should have been back by now.”

Sam frowned, wondering why he felt such an instant jab of fear. He dialed Jenna’s number, and he was rewarded with her answering machine.

“What if the church members…”

“No, no!” Angela said. “A mom went home with two kids. I saw her, Sam, and I don’t know how to explain it, but no-they wouldn’t have hurt her!”

Sam wasn’t sure that he believed that at all. He stood and looked at Angela and Jackson. “Sorry, you wait here for her. Angela, give me that address. I’m going over.”

“All right. We’ll call you, and you call us if you hear from her. I honestly believe she’ll be right along,” Angela said.

“Go on, can’t hurt,” Jackson said.

Sam headed out into the street. Immediately, he saw Will performing, and Will, seeing him, looked concerned. “That way!” he said, working the words and a nod strategically into his act. “That’s magic,” Will cried to the crowd. “I say that way-and you look that way while I’m going the other!” Sam didn’t wait to see more. Will had indicated the road down to the cemetery by having him reverse his gaze.

He started out at a walk, then began to run. As he neared the graveyard, he heard screams.

People were hurrying out of the graveyard; he saw that a number of them had pulled out cell phones and seemed to be called the police.

He stopped one woman. “What’s happening? What’s going on?”

“There’s some maniac in there with an ax! He’s after a woman. Oh, God, I hope the police get here fast enough!”

Sam let her go and tore into the cemetery himself. He rushed through the wide-open gate and looked across the expanse of graves and grass.

And saw the horned god, and the ax. Jenna was desperately dodging and ducking his every swing of the blade.

And then she rushed him, making Sam’s heart nearly stop.

Knocking the figure down, she rolled herself off him to get away.

But the horned god was back up, staggering, reaching for his head.

Sam took advantage, letting out a loud roar as he raced for the figure. Crashing into him, he took the demon back down, sending the ax flying to the side, cracking the man’s head against a tombstone and falling in front of it. Sam stood quickly, crying out. “Jenna!”

“I’m here, I’m fine,” she said, hurrying to his side.

The horned god was still down, unconscious. Sam bent down and stripped the mask off his head. They both stared down in puzzlement. It was a man, a grown man. And it was someone Sam had never seen before.

“Do you know him?” he asked Jenna.

“No!”

By then, they could hear the police sirens. They stood a few feet from the man, waiting. Sam wasn’t surprised to see that John Alden was leading the pack of officers who came rushing into the cemetery. If John had heard the word about a situation in the cemetery from the dispatch office, he would have been the first on the scene.

“I should have suspected you two!” he said, walking up, pulling out his phone and telling the paramedics to move in. He bent down by the body, feeling for a pulse. “Still breathing. Wait, I did suspect you two. What the hell…?”

“Hey, I was just walking in the cemetery, and he came after me. With that ax!” Jenna said, pointing.

“And he meant business. I saw it,” Sam said.

“And-?”

“And I tackled him, right after Jenna rushed him, and if she hadn’t known something about defense, she’d be bleeding to death right now!” Sam said angrily.

“All right, all right,” John said, feeling in the man’s pocket for a wallet or ID. “Nothing, of course,” he said with disgust. “Let the paramedics through!” he called to his men. “We’ve got a live one here-and we need him alive!”

He looked at Sam and Jenna and sighed. “All right. Your attacker is out cold. Let the doctors do what they can for him. They’ll call me as soon as he can be questioned. You know the drill-it’s time for the paperwork.”

Before they left the cemetery, Sam called Jackson, to let the others know what was happening and that Jenna was all right. Jackson said that they’d head to Jamie’s and wait for them there.

The paperwork was tedious but didn’t take as long as it might have. The horned god ax-wielder in the cemetery hadn’t come to. Apparently the shot to his head was quite severe, and the man was in a coma. His prints, though, were taken at the hospital and run through the police system, so before they left, John Alden came and reported to Sam.

“His name is Gary Stillman. Does that mean anything to you?” he asked them both.

They shook their heads.

“He’s in the system for misdemeanors in Boston. Seems he has a crack habit, too. That’s expensive. But he wasn’t really out to rob you, was he?” John asked Jenna.

“Nope. Definitely there to kill,” she said flatly.

John scratched his head. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here. He didn’t kill the Smith family, that’s for sure. He was being held in Boston on drug charges the night that the Smiths were killed.”

“Gun for hire. We need to track a money trail on him,” Sam said.

“I told you, he wasn’t the Smith family killer. He was being held on drug charges,” John said.

“Yeah, and you’re hedging. Come on, John. Like you said, crack is an expensive habit. He was hired to kill Jenna. And you really know, somewhere inside, that no accident killed Milton Sedge. There’s a killer loose here, because you’ve got the wrong suspect behind bars.”

John stared at him. “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know how to do my job, Sam!”

“I’m not!” Sam argued. “You were right to arrest Malachi-he was covered in blood. It’s my job to prove he didn’t do it.”

John waved a hand in the air. “Get out of here. Ever since you drove in, my life has been a nightmare!”

“I’ll see you at the school in the morning,” Sam said.

John gritted his teeth. “Yeah, yeah, first thing in the morning!”

An officer dropped them at Jamie’s house. Jamie hugged his niece fiercely, berating her for walking into danger.

Jenna hugged him fiercely in return.

“You’d have been in trouble if Sam hadn’t happened upon you!” Jamie told her.

Angela and Jackson kept discreetly silent.

Sam found that he had to step up to the plate. “Actually, Jenna does know what she’s doing, Jamie. She was holding her own.”

Jamie looked disgruntled. Jenna shot Sam a glance that held a speculative, wry smile.

“Uncle Jamie, I’m not quitting my job.”

“Well, you all need to stop-this is getting too dangerous!” he protested.

“Uncle Jamie,” Jenna said quietly, “living is dangerous. I love what I do. It’s important. And more people might die if we don’t get to the bottom of this. It’s always better to face danger head-on when you have to fight it.”

Jamie opened and closed his mouth several times. “I’ll get the stew,” he said at last, then gruffly added, “You set the table for me, eh, lass?”

“I’ll help, too!” Angela said, jumping to her feet.

They compiled the information they had all garnered during the day. Sam listened gravely to Jenna as she explained what she was certain the crime-scene photos told her. “It wasn’t as if I could say, ‘Oh, the person who did was left-handed or right-handed’ or anything like that. But it appeared that the Andres murder was just something to be accomplished, while the Covington murder showed a greater violence, and the Smith family was-well, pure rage. And, yes, I know, escalating violence is often part of the profile of a serial killer, but, in this instance, I can’t help but think there are distinct two killers.”

She looked at Sam expectantly.

“I thought that myself today,” he told her.

They both looked at Jackson, who nodded.

“So, we think that Andy Yates and Samantha Yeager are having an affair-and that they’re making sure that they each have an alibi for murder?” Angela clarified, a statement more than a question.

“It is a theory,” Sam said.

“A good one,” Jenna said. “I know that Michael Newbury, Jr., believes that David Yates has been disappointed in his father, that he believes his father hasn’t stood up for him enough. What better way to prove your love than kill the family of and incarcerate the boy who supposedly gave David the evil eye?”

“Why the others?” Angela mused.

“Peter Andres-because he chastised David Yates,” Sam said.

“What about Earnest Covington?” Jamie asked. “What did he do to anyone?”

“In that instance, I believe that he was just there, collateral damage. He was in the community. The trail for finding out who had killed Peter Andres was growing cold. Bring it close to the Smith home-and have a son who will swear that he saw Malachi come out of the house-and you have a good fall guy. I think that the Earnest Covington murder was a setup, and when that didn’t work, the family had to go. And Earnest Covington was such an easy mark. He lived alone. He never locked his door,” Sam said.

“And the man in the graveyard tonight?” Jamie demanded.

Sam sighed. “Even John Alden will be looking for a trail on that. But,” he told Jackson, “you should get your computer whiz on it. I have a feeling that we’re not going to find out that any huge checks have been written. We need to look for alternate indications of money transfer.”

“Murder for hire is expensive,” Angela said.

Sam’s lips formed into a white line. “Expensive? That’s relative. Apparently, the guy from the cemetery was on crack. The kind that will make you do just about anything for money.”

“But what was it going to achieve?” Angela asked.

“Jenna’s death?” Sam stared at Jenna and let out a soft sigh. “I don’t know if our killers know what you all do, with ghosts and spirits and all that…but I do think that the killer is afraid of her. He or she-or they- believe that she can see more than most people, somehow.”

Of course, when they eventually went to bed, they didn’t sleep, not right away. Jenna wondered if her own brush with the edge of an ax had made her more appreciative of living that night.

She and Sam made love until exhausted, and as they lay together she wondered what he was thinking.

“Thanks, by the way,” she murmured.

“For?”

“Helping me out with Jamie.”

He was silent, and she wondered if her time with him was ending soon. Sad, for in such a short time she had realized that he was what she wanted desperately. Sam was the reason she’d never been serious before-she’d been looking for someone just like him, with his eccentricities, and his sense of honor and ethics. She cared far too deeply. He had what she needed in a man, and she was falling in love, even with his arrogance.

Sam rolled over to look at her. His eyes were deep and serious.

“Do you still think I’m a jerk?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair, smiling.

“Good. Because sometimes I still find you scary as hell.”

“Because I see ghosts and have postcognition?”

“Because…because I thought I was going to die tonight when I believed you might have been struck by an ax.”

“You’re always out there on the front line,” she said.

“I’m an attorney.”

“Oh, now…that’s the truth, and not the truth. Last I heard, you defended a man who was entangled with the mob.”

“The son of a mobster, and he was innocent. That’s different… I don’t know if I can bear being with you,” he said.

“It’s all right,” she told him.

“No, it’s not. Because I don’t know if I can bear not being with you.”

She rolled into his arms. He held her against him. “On this one, though, will you give in to me? Will you promise not to try to slip into the school? Call it silly, I have this weird premonition about tomorrow. I want you safe.”

“I won’t slip into the school tomorrow,” she told him.

She felt guilty, because she had no intention of telling him what she really was going to do. But they were going in circles. And she thought that she knew the way to end it.

“This is even crazier,” he murmured, rising above her.

“What?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said.

She pulled him down to her. “I like crazy,” she assured him.

John Alden was true to his word; he was at the school, which had been in lockdown over the weekend. When Sam and Jackson arrived in the morning, the wardrobe mistress-the drama coach-swore up and down that Martin Keller had been telling the truth about the inventory, but other than that, she couldn’t vouch for what might have happened with the costume earlier.

Some of the parents were at the school; although the boys that Sam really wanted questioned were the seventeen-year-olds, he had nothing against the parents being present.

Joshua Abbott was brought in to speak with John, Sam and Jackson alone-without David Yates there to tell him what to say or give him leading gestures. Just when they were about to begin, Joshua’s father, Ben, arrived.

Sam thought that he’d be belligerent, angry that his son was being questioned. But Ben Abbott was just the opposite.

“Damn it, Joshua! This is serious. Perjury. You follow that Yates kid around like a puppy, but you straighten out right now. You want to go to college? You want a football scholarship-you want a life? You’re not in any pact with David Yates. You’re just a kid, and he’s just a kid, and the two of you might wind up with jail time. Tell the truth!”

Joshua looked at his father miserably and lowered his head.

“Did you see Malachi Smith leave Earnest Covington’s house the day he was murdered?” Sam asked quietly.

“The truth!” Ben Abbott repeated.

“Yes,” Joshua said. Then he looked up. “I mean-I didn’t actually see him, but David did. And David wouldn’t say that he saw him if he didn’t. He said that people might not believe him if someone else didn’t say the same thing. And then…then I had to stick to it because…because I’d said it, and I couldn’t turn on David and…Dad! Dad, I’m sorry. But David wouldn’t lie to me-we’re friends.”

With that, John, Sam and Jackson thanked Joshua for his honesty and stepped out of the room. “John, listen to me, please, and I know that this is hard. I honestly believe that Councilman Yates and Samantha Yeager conspired to commit these murders,” Sam said once the door had closed.

John stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Sam spoke quickly, with Jackson’s help, explaining that it was his belief that Samantha Yeager had engaged in an affair with Andy Yates. On her part, it was sheer greed. She wanted Lexington House. Andy Yates had watched what he thought was his son’s terrible suffering; he had to right a wrong.

“You’re crazy!” John said, looking at him.

“John, help us out here, please. Half the parents are here. Can you get Andy Yates to come down? If we can all talk to him with his son present…?”

John sighed. “All right. I’ll get him down here.”

“You want to what?” Angela demanded.

“I want to get back into Lexington House,” Jenna repeated.

“Oh, Jenna, I don’t know if that’s necessary. Why don’t we wait and see what happens at the school today? When they actually get to the kids…”

“No. Angela, I’ve been twice. The first time, I saw Eli Lexington kill his family. The second time, I saw the day that the Braden son killed his parents. My cognitive self might be working in a time pattern. If I can get back in there one more time…”

“Maybe you’re right. But, still-”

“If we wait, Sam will have to call John again, and what I’ll probably get won’t actually be proof, just an idea of the direction we should take to find proof. They’re about to go in with cleaning crews. We’ve got to go now-before they do that,” Jenna said.

“I’m still uneasy about it. The killers are out there. They hired people to look for you, for God’s sake.”

“And they wouldn’t dare do it again, not so quickly,” Jenna said.

While Angela drummed her fingers on the table, Jenna’s phone rang. It was Sam.

“Joshua Abbott’s dad came in and gave it to him, and he admitted he’d been lying,” he told her.

“That’s a start.”

“It gets better. John is bringing Councilman Yates in, saying that he wants him present when David is questioned. You never know what happens when you get that kind of dichotomy going. We could get somewhere today.”

“That’s great!” Jenna told him. “Keep us posted.”

“Will do,” he said, and hung up.

“No one is going to be out to get me,” Jenna assured Angela. “They’re bringing Councilman Yates to the school.”

Angela nodded. “Maybe the ghosts will talk to me, too, today…” She groaned and rolled her eyes. “We’re going to go under the police tape, huh?”

“We’ll put it back, just the way it was. No one will ever know.”

“Where’s Jamie?” Angela whispered.

“He went back in to spend some time with Malachi. Angela, I feel that I have to do this.”

“All right,” Angela agreed. “Then…let’s go.”

Jenna drove. As they pulled out of Jamie’s driveway and headed down the street, Angela frowned and looked into the rearview mirror.

“There’s a car following us,” she said.

“Oh?”

“Nope, never mind. It was just a woman, I think, on her cell phone and following too close. The car turned off. We’re good.”

Jenna was careful to park a few blocks down on the street. As they exited the car, Angela said, “If I head to the cliff area-the park-not-really-a-park-I can easily see Lexington House. I’m thinking that I should keep an eye out and warn you if someone does come. And then, after you’ve taken a try at reading the place, I can go in, because I want to see if there are ghosts in there who will talk to me.” She smiled apologetically. “We both know that ghosts are as strange and moody as-well, as they were when they were living. And sometimes, they’ll feel an affinity with one person and not another. You can keep watch and I’ll go in if you don’t get anything.”

“Ah! Now there’s a plan,” Jenna said.

In front of Lexington House, they split, moving quickly. Jenna looked around; the neighboring houses were few, and she was pretty sure that the workday had already begun for most people in the area.

She didn’t try to slink into the house, but went straight up the walkway, slipped under the tape and jimmied the lock open.

FBI training was helpful in many ways, she thought.

She entered the foyer. She started to head into the parlor but changed her mind. In the parlor, too many events had occurred. She walked up the stairs. If she stood in one of the rooms where Malachi’s great-uncle and grandmother had been killed, she might get more.

She chose the left bedroom, and as she stood there, she felt the opaque mist start to form before her eyes, the thing that told her she was about to see.

She gripped the bedpost and waited for the scene to start to unfold.

And it did.

She saw an old woman. She might have been out of the past; she wore a nightcap and a long white nightgown, one that buttoned to her throat. But she wasn’t from the distant past. There was a digital alarm clock by her bed, and she checked it to make sure that it was set for six the following morning.

Then she lay down, and reached into her bedside table for her Bible.

Smiling, deep into the comfort of her mattress and her covers, she began to read.

Jenna felt something by her side. She turned, and there it was, the specter of the horned god, bearing an ax.

An ax that already dripped blood.

The old woman looked up. Confusion tinged her rheumy eyes at first.

And then she started to scream. A silent scream, because she couldn’t quite draw breath.

And then the horned god was upon her, the first swing catching her in the center of her breast…

Something seemed to happen then. The opaque image faded; she could see it, but more as a backdrop to something else.

And there was something else there.

Another image, standing at the side of the bed.

“Rebecca?” Jenna breathed. She was facing a ghost, or a spirit, a gentle, benign spirit. And the woman was speaking to her.

“The children, the children hear the words of their elders. Leave! Leave now!”

Jenna hadn’t come unarmed this time. She started to reach beneath her jacket from her weapon.

And that’s when the entire world seemed to come down on her head, and she whirled only quickly enough to see who had come upon her.

The horned god, once again…

Andy Yates and his son were seated in uncomfortable chairs; Jackson had purposely found those that had uneven legs for reasons of interrogation strategy. The light was made as bright as possible, and John Alden faced the table while Jackson and Sam took chairs at each end.

“I don’t understand,” Andy Yates said, bewildered. “A costume was taken from this school and used when Peter Andres was killed? And so you’re questioning all the students-not just David, right?”

“That’s right, Mr. Yates,” John Alden said.

“We were at a football game when Andres was killed,” he said. “I know you can check that out-you’ve probably checked that out. So-”

“So, we also know that David has lied to us,” Sam interrupted.

Andy frowned, looking at his son.

“I didn’t lie!” David said.

“Your friend, Joshua, admitted that he didn’t see Malachi Smith on the day that Earnest Covington was killed,” Jackson said.

“What?” David protested. “Joshua wouldn’t say that.”

“He did,” John Alden said. They’d agreed to keep the questions coming from around the table. Like uncomfortable chairs, question being shot from all directions helped confuse a person who was lying.

“Wait! What does the costume used when Andres was killed have to do with the day Covington was killed?” Yates demanded.

“You see, we’re not looking for one killer. We believe there were two, working in unison to make sure they could provide alibis for the murders,” Sam said.

“Wait, wait,” Andy Yates protested. “You think that-”

“Yes, Mr. Yates. We think your boy might be guilty,” Jackson said.

“We think he’s in a conspiracy with someone else,” John Alden said.

David gasped. “Me! I didn’t murder anyone!”

“But you lied!” Sam told him.

“I didn’t kill anyone!”

“But you did lie!” his father said, looking at his son with a sick expression.

“I lied to protect you!” David Yates said.

“Me!” Yates sounded astounded.

“I saw-I saw-” David said. “You saw what?”

“I saw… I thought it was you…heading into the costume shop after the play last spring. You and mom were there, and then you weren’t, and I thought you just went to speak to the drama teacher, ask her why I didn’t have a better role.”

“I never!” Andy protested, staring at his son.

“Mr. Yates, are you having an affair with your business partner, Samantha Yeager?” John demanded. “You hated Malachi Smith. You blamed him for every problem your son ever had.”

“You blamed him for the stigma of having to see a shrink,” Jackson said.

“And you’d have done anything for Samantha Yeager!” Sam said.

“Wait-what? No! No!” Andy protested. “We were in business, yes, and if Abraham Smith had agreed to sell the place, we would have opened it together. Yes, yes! That’s true. But I-I wasn’t sleeping with her. I swear it.”

“You hired a hit man to kill Jenna Duffy just last night!” Sam said.

“No, no! That wasn’t me-it wasn’t me-” Andy Yates’s protest broke off in a moment of pained silence.

“Dad-” David Yates began.

“Shut up! Shut up!” Yates said. “I want a lawyer. We won’t say another word until we get a lawyer.”

Sam looked at Yates, the way he pulled back, and suddenly he knew. They’d been wrong. They’d been close, but they’d been wrong.

He jerked out of his chair and headed into the hallway. He hadn’t wanted Jenna here today; somehow, he’d just felt she was in danger. He’d been worried sick last night.

But she should be at Jamie’s house-safe. Unless someone called on her.

He dialed quickly. The phone rang and rang, and her voice mail came on. He tried calling Angela, but got her voice mail, too.

Jackson came out to the hallway.

By the time he tried Jamie’s house phone, Sam was already running out of the school. He reached his car, and he didn’t know where he was going. Jackson slid in beside him. He started to jerk the car into gear, and stopped.

There was an old woman standing in front of him. An old woman in costume. Hell, it was Halloween.

“Get out of the way, get out of the way, get out of the way-”

“Who are you talking to? Where are you going?” Jackson demanded.

“The woman! That old hag in the road. Jackson, get her out of the way before I run her down!”

“There’s no one-” Jackson said. “What does she look like?”

“Old. Dressed to the throat. In a cap-what are you talking about? She’s right there!”

“No. She’s just there for you. Start the car. She’ll move.”

“What?”

“Tell me again, who does she look like?”

“An old Puritan woman!” Sam exploded. “Damn you, Jackson, no one is answering a phone. I can’t reach either Angela or Jenna. And it’s not Andy Yates who’s a killer-it’s his wife!”

“Drive!” Jackson said. “And follow her-she’s here to lead you.”

“To what?”

“Life for the innocent.”

Jenna came to slowly and saw a horned god hovering over her. She tried to move, but couldn’t. She realized that she’d been tied to the sofa downstairs, that she was lying in the chalk outline that denoted the place Abraham Smith had been killed.

“Why couldn’t you have let well enough be?” the horned god asked her. “I never wanted to hurt you…I didn’t want more dead.”

“Shut up, Cindy!” someone behind her said. Jenna knew the voice.

It was that of Samantha Yeager.

“Why? We both came in from the back,” Cindy Yates said, impatient. She pulled off the mask of the horned god and looked at Jenna, serious anxiety in her eyes. “He really is evil, you know. Malachi Smith is evil. His father was evil. This house makes everyone in it evil, you have to understand that.”

“Cindy, come on!” Samantha said. She was wearing the horned god’s cape, like Cindy, but she hadn’t bothered with a mask. “Get a grip! We need to get this over with. I have to get back to the shop or I won’t have an alibi.”

“Well, we’re not going to chop her up,” Cindy said. “It has to be an accident.”

“It won’t be an accident. My partner’s on the cliff right now, watching the house,” Jenna said. Her head hurt. Her mouth seemed to be working only with great effort.

Samantha Yeager chuckled and leaned over her. “No, honey, she’s not watching anything right now.”

“You better pray that you didn’t kill Angela,” Jenna said, trying to keep calm. Except that she had panicked at first and jerked against her binding.

It was loose. And they hadn’t bothered to tie her legs.

“If you hurt her, you’ll have to watch out for Jackson Crow. He’s part Native American, you know. He learned all sorts of unique tortures from his father’s family,” she said.

“She’s bluffing, the wicked little bitch!” Samantha said, hunkering down beside her. She lifted a strand of Jenna’s hair. “But your ol’ Indian pal won’t have to be upset-your friend will be okay. I got her with a slingshot from the woods-I was ready from the minute Cindy saw you on the move and called me. Slingshot! I’m good at it, by the way. Like I am with so many things…”

“Like making men think that you want them?” Jenna suggested, carefully inching around in the ties that bound her.

She’d hit pay dirt. She eased back.

“It’s only fair,” Cindy said.

“What’s only fair?” Jenna asked.

“Oh, my husband! My fine, upstanding husband!” she said. “Our son is attacked, and what does he do? He sends him for psychiatric care! A real man would have gone to battle for his child! He would have done something about Abraham and Malachi Smith existing in the same world as our David. He should have done something. But, no! He looked at my boy, my beautiful, strong, handsome boy, and said that he needed help! What kind of a father does that?” she demanded. “And then, oh, he’s such a smarmy bastard! He meets Samantha, and what the hell does he do? He comes on to her! He brought her into our house, introduced her to me and my children, and then came on to her. He’s such a fool.”

“A fool with money,” Samantha murmured.

“If he weren’t,” Cindy said, her eyes narrowing, “I’d have been out of that house by now. And then you come into town and start sleeping with that sleazy lawyer! Bringing your hotshot FBI friends. And when I challenge you, what does my smarmy bastard of a husband do? He yells at me! He yells at me for slapping you, you bitch!”

As if suddenly realizing that her husband wasn’t around to yell at her now, she slapped Jenna. Hard. And then again and again. The blows were stinging, but Jenna used the time to work harder at the ropes binding her.

“Stop it!” Samantha warned her. “We have to figure out exactly how to make this look like an accident.”

“Like you did with Milton Sedge?” Jenna asked, running her tongue over her lips and tasting blood.

“That was me,” Cindy said proudly. “Samantha did in Mr. Andres-with my compliments, of course-and I took care of the rest. They deserved to die! The Smiths deserved to die! They were horrible people. Don’t you understand? They were evil!”

“Cindy!” Samantha pleaded.

“Does it matter what we tell her now?” Cindy asked softly.

“What about Earnest Covington? How the hell could you butcher him like that?”

“I had to! Don’t you understand? I had to. They had to lock up Malachi!”

“Cindy! Stop it, please. Come on, and move! I’ve got to get her head cracked in and then leave her at the foot of the stairs. You wanted to talk to her-to explain. You’ve done it. We’ve got to get rid of her now, Cindy. Come away!”

Cindy started to rise. It might be Jenna’s last chance.

Jenna knew that she couldn’t tear free from the bonds holding her, but she might be able to use her legs to help her get free. She jerked up with all her might, chair still strapped to her back and arms, desperately finding her balance in split seconds. She had no choice of weapon or flexibility: she head-bashed Cindy, causing her to cry out and fall back.

“Oh, screw this!” Samantha cried, and she reached for the old lamp on the table and started to bring it down on Jenna’s head.

Jenna threw herself down and managed to avoid the first crash by tumbling awkwardly away. Her head was still ringing; it felt like it was a thousand pounds itself, and the wood chair slats and rope hurt her skin.

“Cindy, help!” Samantha raged.

Cindy staggered to her feet.

Samantha picked up one of the heavy candlesticks from the mantel.

She raced toward Jenna; Jenna ducked the blow.

Cindy came up behind her with the remnants of the lamp, striking her hard. She willed herself not to feel the pain. She still had no weapon but the force of her own body.

She threw herself on Cindy, taking her down.

Samantha reached for Jenna, grasping a handful of her hair and viciously pulling her up. She rammed Samantha, but Cindy rose.

And Jenna realized that her strength was failing. She fell to her knees, hunched over, the chair covering her somewhat.

But she didn’t want to die…

“He’s here!” she exclaimed suddenly. “Abraham Smith is here…and all those who have died at the hands of others. They’re all here, watching you!”

Jenna had wanted the exclamation to spook the women, but she found that she wasn’t actually lying-the ghosts of the deceased had gathered in the room to watch them.

As if sensing something herself, Cindy stood still in fear, shaking. “Where, where?”

“Nowhere!” Samantha cried. “Help me, Cindy.”

She had retrieved the candlestick and went at Jenna again.

“Abraham, no!” Jenna called, seeing that the ghost was going to do his best to trip Samantha. “Let the law punish them, and it will be years and years…”

“Stop it!” Samantha shrieked. But coming forward, she tripped and landed inches from Jenna, who pivoted on her knees to hit the woman with the legs of her chair. “Cindy, help, she’ll kill me!”

Cindy cried out herself, lifting the coffee table, ready to hurl it at Jenna.

But, before she could, a whirlwind rushed into the room.

It was Sam. He put his arms around Cindy and threw her to the ground, the table landing with a loud crash. At that moment, Jenna became aware of the sound of sirens coming closer. Samantha rose one more time to come after her.

Jenna felt lightness in her head, and she knew she was going to faint, with darkness and stars bursting before her eyes.

But Sam ran in her direction, and his arm snaked around Samantha before she could strike. He lifted her off her feet, swinging her around to crash land on top of Cindy.

“I always knew you wanted to touch me, honey,” Samantha said, dazed.

Then Jenna saw no more. The stars in front of her eyes burst, and then became blackness.

Waking up, Jenna felt a bit as if she were on display.

There were so many people staring at her.

A doctor in a white uniform and a stethoscope in his hand. A concerned nurse in a pert white hat. Uncle Jamie, Jackson, Angela, Will, John Alden-and Sam.

Sam was seated by her side on the bed, holding her hand. His gray eyes were so misted with concern that it seemed her heart ached, rather than her head.

“Ah, you’re back with us again,” the doctor said. “Well, that was a pretty good wallop you got on your head, and I know you’re an R.N., Miss Duffy, but you’re staying right here tonight, you understand. You should know that a good concussion is definitely something to watch.”

“Don’t you be worrying!” Jamie said. “The lass will be staying right here, till you say that it’s fine for her to leave.”

“Ditto,” Sam said sternly, squeezing her hand.

“May we have just a minute?” John Alden asked.

“A minute!” the doctor said sternly.

“I’m not leaving at all,” Sam said. He looked at the doctor. “I’ll be good, I swear. I’m just going to sit here and make sure she doesn’t try to get up.”

“All right, but not too much stimulation-the rest of you out of here in two minutes!” the doctor said firmly.

When he was gone, John Alden said, “Jenna, I just want to say-well, I just want to say that the women are both locked up, and-” he paused, shaking his head with a smile and looking at Jamie “-and the prosecutor has already gone in to see that the charges against Malachi Smith are dropped. Of course, now he has to press charges against Samantha Yeager and Cindy Yates, and you will be called to testify in court, and God knows, Sam may be defending them-”

“No,” Sam said. “Sam won’t be defending them.”

“Who knew?” Jamie said quietly. “Who knew that a woman like Cindy could go quite so crazy over the perceived injury done a child?”

“Well, we did think that maybe Andy Yates was that furious,” he reminded her. “We didn’t think that a mother would resort to that kind of violence. That’s still the way of the world-we don’t like to think that the female of our species can be so violent and diabolical. And I sure didn’t suspect that the affair was with Cindy Yates, not Andy,” Jackson said apologetically.

“Oh, my God, Angela!” Jenna tried to sit up to address her friend.

“No!” the word was a cacophony from the entire group, and Sam gently pushed her back down.

“I’m fine-absolutely fine,” Angela told her. “I’m embarrassed, frankly. I was armed and everything. The rock came from the trees the minute I turned to watch the house. But, honestly, I was already getting up when Jackson came rushing over for me. So much for my intelligent stakeout.”

“They would have just gotten us both inside,” Jenna said.

“Maybe,” Angela said. “And maybe not.”

“Listen,” Jackson said, “our two minutes are up. We can go through all of it later-when you’re up to it. Come on, everyone out. Jenna, you get your rest, and don’t you dare try to get up again.”

“Wait!” Jenna said. She looked at her uncle. “How is Malachi?”

Jamie smiled. “Malachi is just fine. We had a long talk on the phone, and I’ll go and pick him up when I leave here. I’m making arrangements for him to do his senior year at a boarding school in New Hampshire-one that has an extensive music department. He wants to pursue a career in music. He has the guitar now, and while I’m getting him situated, he’ll have the piano at my house. We’ll see his name in the newspapers again, I’ll warrant. In the entertainment section. He’s going to make it. He’ll have support now, and belief. Music, he told me, is his gift from God. Who knows? Maybe he’ll become the singing priest! A nun made it that way, once!”

Jenna nodded and leaned back, smiling.

Jamie kissed her cheek, then Angela and Jackson. Apparently, John Alden would have felt left out if he hadn’t, so he did, as well.

She caught his hand. “Thanks for being a good cop, John,” she said.

“I didn’t want to believe any of you,” he said. “Me. The man who should have learned the most from the past.”

“You’re an exceptionally good cop because you were willing to be honest and not blindly insist that you were right. You’re a good cop because you pursued justice, not ego,” she told him.

He grinned, kissed her cheek again and left.

And she was alone with Sam.

“Wait until you’re well,” he told her, moving closer and holding her fingers tenderly. “Such a brat, still! You were supposed to be at the house.”

“I never said I wouldn’t go to Lexington House,” she told him.

“Brat. Omission is as good as a lie.”

She smiled, not looking at him. “I’m just grateful that you came. I learned something, of course. Anyone can be taken by surprise. I’m pretty good, but… Cindy might have been the one to commit the most vicious murders, but Samantha is one mean opponent! How the hell did you find us?” she demanded.

“I figured it out when David and Andy Yates were together,” he said. “I knew where they were-but I didn’t know where Samantha and Cindy were. I tried calling you. You didn’t answer.”

“But-did you just figure I would have gone to Lexington House?” she asked.

He lowered his head. “No,” he answered after a minute.

“Oh?”

“Someone showed me the way. I think she’s a friend of yours.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Rebecca Nurse.”

She stared at him in astonishment. “I-I thought she was just an old woman in the way, but Jackson didn’t see her. He said that she was there for me…and to follow her. And I did.” He was thoughtful. “She knew how easy it was for even good, sane people to believe what others said, I believe. Maybe-maybe she stays, making sure that others don’t follow the same route-making sure that history matters.”

Jenna could barely believe what he was saying-and that he meant the words, earnestly.

“She kept telling me that children listened to their parents. And they did; David Yates knew that his mother loathed the Smiths. He knew, too, that his father wanted them out of the area. And I think he was terrified that his father was a murderer, and he had to keep saying what he did so that nothing happened to his family.”

“That boy is going to need a lot of help,” Sam said thoughtfully.

“And what about Malachi?”

“I think your uncle is going to become his guardian. He was already saying that he wanted to get him down to New York or out West, maybe. He wants to put him in a good music school.”

“Actually, he needs to meet Jake.”

“Jake, Jake! I don’t want to hear about this Jake.”

Jenna tried not to laugh; laughing did still hurt.

“Jake has got a gorgeous fiancée, so not to worry. But he’s an incredible musician. I think he and Malachi really must meet.”

“In Virginia?”

“Yes, Jake is in Virginia now.”

He raised the hand he was holding in both of his, and kissed her fingers.

“I’ve actually been thinking that Virginia, the capital region, is really a phenomenal place for a truly renowned attorney to set up shop. Think of the graft! Think of the slimy politicians! Think of the masses, where crime just happens. I am considering looking into it. That is, if you think I should?”

He could push her back down if he chose, but she had to rise for a minute. She held on to his shoulders and kissed his lips.

“I don’t think that I could bear it if you didn’t,” she told him.