Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(14)

"Don't worry about it, sweetie. I'll do it."

"No, you won't," Erin said.

Barbara tightened the sash of her bathrobe with an angry tug. "Do not take that tone with me, Erin Katherine Riggs."

Her mother's sharp response made her feel better, oddly enough.

She murmured a garbled apology and hefted the mirror, shaking as much glass as she could out onto the floor. Busy was better. Activity blocked thinking, and she didn't want to think. She preferred to scurry around, hauling the mirror and clock upstairs, gathering up slivers of glass from the carpet and putting them into a plastic bucket.

That was better than chewing on the two possibilities available to her: Mom had done it and didn't remember doing it, or Mom hadn't done it. Which meant that someone else had.

She wasn't sure which notion terrified her more.

She shouldn't leave Mom at a time like this, but she couldn't afford not to go to Silver Fork. They needed that money so badly. Her mind ran over the problem the way the vacuum cleaner was running over the rug. Each time she thought she was done, she heard another little ting. Always more of them, hidden in the deep pile carpet like tiny, cruel teeth awaiting unwary bare feet.



Barbara ran a sink full of hot, soapy water, and was washing the dishes when Erin came back in from emptying the garbage. It was bad enough to have admitted to those hallucinations, or whatever they were, but to have her daughter think she was so far gone as to smash family heirlooms… that was unthinkable. Heaven knew, if she were to smash a Riggs family heirloom, she would damn well remember doing it.

Erin leaned against the porch doorway. Barbara's heart ached at the pinched, anxious look in her daughter's face.

"Thought I'd get to work on this mess," she said awkwardly.

Erin looked relieved. "Great idea."

"I'll just load up this dishwasher and set it running. Maybe we can nuke a couple of Budget Gourmets. Have you eaten?"

"I should get home. I have to pack for my trip tomorrow. Let's put one in for you." Erin peered into the freezer. "Swiss steak and chicken teriyaki are your choices, Mom."

Barbara's stomach lurched unpleasantly at the thought of food. "Leave them for now, hon. I'll have one later. What's this trip of yours?"

"I'm going to the coast. Another consulting job for Mueller."

"Oh, that's lovely! You see? Cream always rises to the top, no matter what happens. You're going to do just fine, sweetie."

"We all will, Mom," Erin said. "But you've got to stay on top of your mail, and we've got to work out a plan for paying the bills. And you've, uh, got to cool it with the Vicodin. You need to be more alert. If… if somebody is coming into the house."

Barbara nodded, and tried to smile. "Of course."

"I'll help as much as I can, but I can't do it alone." Erin's voice shook.

"Yes, I know," Barbara hastened to say. "I'm sorry I scared you, baby. I'll pull myself together, and we'll all be fine. You'll see."

"Cindy, too. Maybe we could set up a meeting with the scholarship committee, convince them to give her another chance. She can't just quit school. I'll call her tonight."

"Yes. You do that. She looks up to you," Barbara encouraged. "I appreciate your help, hon. I really do."

Erin pulled on her jacket and hesitated, gazing at her mother with big, worried eyes. "Are you sure you're going to be OK, Mom?"

"More than sure," Barbara assured her. "You go and get packed. Have a good trip. Call when you get there, OK?"

"I can't," Erin said. "Your phone's cut off."

Barbara flinched. "Oh, God. Well, don't worry about it, hon. I'll take care of it right away."

"I'll do it when I get back, Mom," Erin offered. "I don't mind."

"Don't worry. Run along and get ready. You have to be at your best tomorrow," Barbara urged.

Erin gave her a tight, lingering hug and a kiss, and left.

Barbara peered out the window and watched Erin run down the sidewalk, light-footed and graceful. She turned the corner and was lost to sight.

Barbara straightened up and looked around with a new sense of purpose. She twitched the crocheted throw on the loveseat back into place and rearranged the pictures on the mantel. She gathered up the mail and rifled through the envelopes with a semblance of her old efficiency, shaking her head at all the past due notices.

It was time to stop moping and working herself into a state. Making her little girl worry herself sick. For heaven's sake.

She stared at the TV with hostile eyes, and finally knelt down, plugged in the power strip, reattached the cables, and pushed it back to its place against the wall. She took the remote in her trembling hand and held it out in front of her like a weapon, challenging the blank screen. The mail crumpled against her chest in her shaking hand.

Enough foolishness. What she had seen was the result of too many sedatives. And it would be nice to watch the evening news.

She turned it on.

Gleaming, naked bodies, grunts and moans… the film flickered, but the images were horribly clear. Her husband. His mistress. She stabbed at the remote. The TV did not respond. She stabbed at the off button on the TV itself. Nothing. The thing was possessed.