The Final Victim(50)

Oh, come on, don't be ridiculous, she admonishes herself. You 're a grown woman, not a young-

Her eyes widen.

A black-clad figure just darted behind a raised rectangular crypt in the foreground, directly in her line of vision.

Still puttering restlessly in the kitchen, wishing the phone would ring, Lianna glances over the contents of the refrigerator, looking for a snack. Not much here, she thinks, pushing things around on the shelves: the ever-present cut glass pitcher of sweet tea Nydia prepares almost daily for Mom, some bottled water, condiments, salad stuff, ham…

The boring sandwich Nydia made for her dinner was a far cry from the feast she would have had at the Sea Captain's House with Dad.

She loves their grilled scallops, and the lobster risotto, too. Oh, and they have the best triple chocolate cake on the dessert menu-almost as good as the one Mom used to make every year for Adam's birthday…

Yeah, and after he died, she stopped making birthday cakes altogether. Whenever Lianna's rolls around, she always lets her pick out whatever she wants from Baker's Pride on DeRenne Avenue. Their Georgia River Mud Cake is her favorite, but she'd still rather have her mother's homemade triple chocolate.

Yeah, like that'll ever happen again.

Thinking about cake is giving Lianna a fierce sweet tooth, but all she can find in the refrigerator that tempts her in the least is a cup of strawberry Dannon yogurt, the kind with the fruit on the bottom.

Adam always liked this stuff, too, she recalls as she carries it up to her room.

She can remember arguing with her older brother over who got to eat the blueberry kind, their mutual favorite, and who had to have the peach, their mutual least favorite.

Lianna invariably got stuck with peach.

"No fair, Adam!"

How many times did she whine those words, growing up?

No fair, Adam-you got the good flavor.

No fair, Adam-you got the best seat.

No fair, Adam…

You left me all alone here with Mom, and Dad is gone now, too.

Tears spring to her eyes.

I know… I know it wasn't your fault. It was mine.

Maybe Mom knows, too.

At least it would explain why she hates me so much.

Lianna stops short on the threshold of her room, hearing the shrill ring of the telephone from the extension down the hall, in her grandfather's study.

It must be Dad or Kevin, she dunks in relief, her troubles instantly forgotten as she hurries to answer it.

Startled, Charlotte strains to see the spot beside the cemetery crypt, telling herself that it's probably just kids… local teenagers, up to mischief.

"Ready?" Royce asks, directly behind her, and she jumps.

"Oh! You scared me!"

"I didn't mean to… Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." And more than ready to get out of here. She turns away from the window. "So do you want to go eat?"

"You bet. And you'll be glad to know that we'll have just enough marble, as long as the tile guys are careful and they don't crack any while they're installing them." 'That's great…"

She glances again at the window.

"Charlotte…" Royce puts his hand on her arm. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I think I just did. Across the street, in the cemetery," she elaborates at his doubtful expression.

"Let me guess… a filmy white figure was out there floating among the headstones?"

"It wasn't floating, and it was wearing black, actually."

His grin doesn't quite hide the shadow of concern in his eyes, though his tone is playful as he says, "Bad guys wear black, you know. It must have been an evil spirit."

"Terrific."

"I'm just teasing you."

"I know. But I'm not kidding about seeing something out there."

"Like what?"

"Like a real person."

"Real people walk through cemeteries, you know. Even at night"

"This one wasn't just walking-it was more like, I don't know, hiding."

Realizing how ridiculous that sounds, she forces a laugh that sounds hollow, and not just because of the echo in the room. "I guess hanging around this empty house is starting to creep me out"

"Come on, then, let's go." Royce crosses the room and flicks off the wall switch.

A reassuring wedge of light from the hall spills across the floor, not quite reaching the window where Charlotte still stands.

She turns back to look through the glass again. With the room's overhead bulb extinguished, she can see the cemetery much more clearly.

There's no sign of the person she spotted earlier lurking near the crypt. Whoever it was must have taken off to catch up to his friends, probably tossing beer cans or cigarette butts along the way.

Right.

A teenager, up to no good. But not in a threatening way. And he's long gone, for sure.

It's just…

He isn't gone.

Charlotte has the oddest sense that somebody's still there…

Watching her.

She takes a quick step back from the window, still feeling exposed.

Shades… and draperies.

Yes, that's what they need, as soon as possible. She won't move in here until the windows can all be covered.