The Stroke of Winter(88)

Tess’s eyes grew wide. She hadn’t been expecting that answer.

Jane looked from one to another of the group, not quite knowing what to ask next. Apparently she hadn’t expected that answer, either.

Tess raised a hand. “I have a question,” she whispered. Jane nodded. “Was Daisy trapped somewhere, like the bathroom, and trying to get out?” She was thinking of the scratching noise.

Left swing. Stop.

“Was Daisy hiding?”

Left swing. Stop.

“Was Daisy hiding from Grey?”

Right swing. Stop.

Jane looked to the group again. Indigo cleared his voice and spoke up. “Was Daisy hiding from Mr. Hyde?”

The pendulum was still for a moment. And then, left swing. Yes.

Indigo took a deep breath and locked eyes with his wife. “Did Mr. Hyde kill Daisy?”

And with that, the pendulum swung so furiously in a circle that it shot from Jane’s hand and hit one of the windows, shattering it. But the pendulum itself did not break.

Indigo buried his face in his hands and let out a sob. Jill put a hand on his back.

“Is this what you wanted us to know?” Jane asked. “Is it the reason for the haunting?”

Left swing, then right swing, then stop.

“Yes and no?” Jane asked.

Left swing. Stop.

“There’s more?”

Left swing. Stop.

All at once, Tess knew what it might be. Or at least, a part of it.

“Daisy, do you want us to find your children? Do you want them to know you didn’t abandon them?”

All at once, a great wail pierced the quiet of the room, a wail of grief and anguish, of frustration and heartbreak. It was like the wailing of a harpy on a dark night, the very sound of death and destruction and despair. It reverberated through the room and rang in Tess’s ears—but nobody else seemed to hear it. Once again, she alone was the recipient.

“I will find your children, Daisy,” Tess said. And the wailing stopped.

“I wish we could ask more than yes-or-no questions,” Tess whispered to Wyatt.

Jane regrouped, recentered herself, and continued. “Did Mr. Hyde kill himself?”

Right swing. Stop.

“Did Grey kill Mr. Hyde?” Indigo piped up.

Right swing. Stop.

Indigo took a deep breath. “Did Sebastian Bell kill Grey and Mr. Hyde?”

Tess felt decades of pent-up anger and sadness and fury and madness coalesce in the middle of the room, as though it were a living, breathing monster. With that, every window in the studio shattered.





CHAPTER FORTY



Jill enveloped her husband in a hug as Indigo wept softly on her shoulder. Tess didn’t know quite what to do.

Indigo produced a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his eyes. “I have long suspected it,” he said, his voice torn to shreds. “I knew Grey didn’t disappear. It’s what we told the world. I have held those words in the darkest part of my heart for decades, not wanting to utter them aloud. The secrecy, the shutting up of the room. It never made sense, but I just went along with my mother. I am all but sure she came upon it and covered it all up somehow.”

“You don’t have to be ‘all but sure’ anymore,” Jane said, her voice soft and soothing. “They’re right here. Let’s just ask.”

They assembled in their circle once again. This time, Indigo took the lead.

“Grey, my brother, did Father come upon Mr. Hyde in a rage?”

Left swing. Stop.

“Had Mr. Hyde already killed Daisy?”

Left swing. Stop.

“Did he kill Daisy because she wouldn’t leave her children?”

Left swing. Stop.

“Did Mr. Hyde attack Father?”

The pendulum was still. And then, left swing. Stop.

Indigo turned his gaze to his wife. “Let’s try to work this out,” he said to her, and then to the rest of the group: “Sebastian walked in on Grey, who had killed Daisy in a rage. Grey attacked Sebastian. But how . . .”

“I see what you’re getting at,” Tess said. “How did it go from that to your father killing Grey and Mr. Hyde?”

Jane looked to the group. “Does anyone have any more questions? Can you think of—”

Indigo put up his hand. “God, help me. I have one other question. It is the thing that has kept me up at night, slithered into my brain, and nearly driven me mad all of these years.”

Jane nodded and held the pendulum aloft.

“Where are your bodies?”

Tess’s heart was racing; the blood drained from her face. Wyatt’s hand felt clammy in hers.

“I know it isn’t a yes-or-no question, but I don’t know how else to say it,” Indigo said, his eyes brimming with tears.

The pendulum swung in a circle.

“Are they in the house?”

Right swing. Stop.

“Buried?”

Right swing. Stop.

All at once, a feeling came over Tess. Somehow, she knew. She raised her hand, as if asking for permission to speak. Jane nodded.

“Are they over the cliff on the road leading to Salmon Bay?”

Left swing. Jane dropped the pendulum as though it were on fire.

“Wait a minute,” Tess said. “That doesn’t make sense. Grey had to have painted at least one of the paintings—the cliff—after the murder.”