The Stroke of Winter(89)

The next few days were a flurry of activity. Nick reported in with the news that the blood in the studio was from two people, one related to Tess—she had given a blood sample for comparison—and one who wasn’t. Grey and Daisy.

Tess asked Nick to start looking for Daisy’s children. She had made a promise, and she intended to keep it. Her own internet searches were turning up nothing, but Nick was confident in his search. Tess asked if she could be the one to tell them the news.

Tess had also told the chief about the ghost hunting, and the pendulum session, and asked if he would do a search of the shoreline beneath the cliff, to see what it might turn up. Accustomed to strange and otherworldly police requests in Wharton, he did just that. The bones he found were being analyzed. But Tess had no doubt who they’d turn out to be.

It didn’t tell them how Grey died, what happened in that room, how Serena managed to cover it all up, or anything else about that horrible night. But it did give the Bell family some finality, some closure. And that was going to have to be good enough.

The days were altogether ordinary after that. No more scratching. No more hauntings. No more nightly disturbances. Tess and her mother decorated the house for the holidays, using old family heirlooms plus the new decorations Tess had bought during that ill-fated trip to Salmon Bay the night of the snowstorm, which seemed like a lifetime ago now.

Early in the afternoon on that Saturday, Tess was putting the finishing touches on one of the four Christmas trees they had decorated when a whoosh of cold passed through the room. But it wasn’t a haunting this time. It was actual cold, from outside, when Eli came through the front door.

Later that day, the four of them, Tess and Eli, Indigo and Jill, bundled up and walked down to the lake for the Wharton Wonderland tree-lighting festival, Storm leading the way. They got out onto the frozen lake and saw it was filled with people—Simon and Jonathan from Harrison’s House, Kate and Nick Stone, Beth St. John, the people from Superior Café, which was closed for the occasion, island families that Tess recognized but didn’t quite know.

Grant waved at her from behind the ice bar, where he was pouring mulled wine and other festive drinks. Hunter was standing in front of the fire “bocking” dark beers, the ancient practice of plunging a hot poker into a beer and, for lack of a better term, caramelizing it. Eli noticed that and just had to try it out.

Artists and local merchants had set up tables where they were selling their wares—jewelry, pottery, textiles, macramé, even drawings. A massive grill stood onshore, where Jim was cooking brats and burgers. Someone had brought a huge popcorn machine and was serving up bags of freshly popped corn. A group of madrigal singers, dressed in period costume, sang Renaissance tunes, accompanied by a lute player.

Twinkling lights were everywhere, and a giant Christmas tree and a menorah stood at the center of it all.

The holidays had officially arrived in Wharton.

“This is delightful.” Indigo beamed at Jill. “Why have we gone south, again?”

“So you can play golf every day,” she said, squeezing his arm.

Wyatt joined them, and they let the three dogs run, playing on the lake together like puppies.

For Tess, these people and this place—life couldn’t get any better.

Watching that scene, Tess thought about the morning after the pendulum session, when Wyatt had brought Storm back to the house.

She had opened the kitchen door, and the dog bounded in with a flourish, but not into Tess’s waiting arms. He’d run straight for Indigo.

“Oh my!” Indigo said, as the dog jumped up and nuzzled his snout into the man’s neck. “Hello there! How are you, my friend!”

As the dog wiggled and barked, Indigo turned to Tess. “We had a dog just like this when I was a child,” he said. “A white shepherd. My dad used to walk with him all over town.”

Tess’s heart did a flip. Joe had said as much during their lunch, which now seemed like a lifetime ago.

“I’ll never forget it,” Indigo went on. “My mother used to say he was sent to protect me. And he did. He stood between me and Grey . . . and the monster within him . . . more times than I could count.”

He scratched behind the dog’s ears.

“It was the damnedest thing,” Indigo continued. “The dog showed up at our back door during a snowstorm. Local legend had it that a white dog would appear to people in times of great distress. Like a guardian angel of sorts.” He chuckled. “But, of course, that’s just an old tale.”





CHAPTER FORTY-ONE



La Belle Vie, 1970

Sebastian and Serena had been away in New York for an art opening and came home to what he could only describe as carnage. As soon as they walked into the house, he sensed it. So did Serena. Something was off. On instinct, he climbed the stairs to the studio.

And then, his world collapsed.

He saw his son, drenched in blood, smearing a bright-red stain onto the wall. Like a gash. Sebastian looked around in stunned silence for a moment. Utter disarray. Fresh canvases strewn about. He stepped into the bathroom and gasped aloud. It was covered in blood. A knife lay on the floor.

“I tried to wash it off the bathroom walls,” Grey murmured. “It wouldn’t come off. Permanently stained, I’m afraid.”

Sebastian walked back into the main room. “Grey, what in the name of God happened here?”