The Spite House(89)
“That was always the plan,” Eunice said. “People will insist anything is fake these days, no matter how convincing the footage. Some won’t believe what they see unless someone they follow or idolize tells them it’s real. If Neal says it’s real, or if he at least won’t commit to calling it fake, people will listen to him. Even other skeptics will listen. It’s the only way this works. I have to bring him in.”
“I’ll be there, too,” Eric said. Dana and Millie looked at him, stunned and perturbed. Neither had the nerve to chastise him after what he’d been through, however.
“You don’t have to do that,” Eunice said.
“Again, that’s not your call.”
“I see. Can I ask you something? You said the children wanted their uncle to tell the truth about everything. What exactly does that mean?”
“They want him to admit that he died and came back,” Eric said.
Eunice leaned forward. “And they’ll want to know how he did it, too?”
“Yes. I thought that would get your attention. That could give you another option if your big plan doesn’t pan out. And now you might see why I’m so eager to do my part. I’m going to make sure you hear it from him, so you don’t get any ideas about coming after Stacy someday, now that you know about her.”
Eunice reared like she’d been slapped. “I am sincerely sorry for failing to tell you everything you deserved to know, but I can’t believe you think that means I would do something so much worse. I would never do anything like what Max Renner did today.”
“Sure. Listen, when you pin down the date you’re going back in, let me know,” Eric said. “Thanks for having us, Millie. Talk to you in the morning, Dana.” Then he went to the spare room to be with Stacy and Dess.
CHAPTER 42
Dess
Four days later, Dess was starting to believe her father was not completely himself. He moved stiffly, like he’d aged a few decades since first arriving in Degener. Nonetheless, his demeanor was that of a man with few worries. He hummed sometimes as he moved about the two-bedroom suite Eunice rented for them. They were on the outskirts of San Antonio, but he took them into the city—downtown—every night to eat, surrounded by tourists and locals. His desire to keep a lower profile was gone.
Only in his sleep did he seem troubled. From her bedroom, Dess could hear him pacing, groaning, crying. She checked in on him the first night, saw him sleepwalking and knew better than to wake him. In the morning, she told him that she saw him up, eyes closed tight, sweat beading on his forehead, his face crunched in pain. She saw him take a step, stop, gasp, turn his head like he was scanning the room even as his eyes were closed. She watched him go through these and other motions for most of the night, accounting for her tiredness the following day.
“You don’t worry about me. I mean that,” he said, although he spoke like he didn’t mean anything that he said these days. She couldn’t help trying to check on him again the next night, but the door to his room was locked.
After a few days of this, she told him, “When Eunice does her whole séance thing, if it goes like she says it will, we should come up with a plan to call Mom.”
“You think so?” he said.
“Yeah. It should be safer then, right? Everybody will be paying attention to what’s going on with that, with the house. And I bet it’ll get a little chaotic for a while, too. So even if Mom, you know, reacts badly and tries to tell people about it, I think it’ll get lost in all the noise, if it gets any attention at all. Plus we’ll have the new place out in Cali. We don’t have to tell her about that. We can still lay low. But, Dad, I’m worried about you. If something happens to you, I can take care of Stacy on my own, but just ’cause I can that doesn’t mean it’s the best thing for her.”
“Or for you,” he said. “You’re right. We’ll figure out a way to tell your mom and hope for the best.” He smiled. “Can you imagine how happy Stacy would be to see her again?”
“She wouldn’t be the only one,” Dess said. Honestly, though, she’d be too nervous about what could go wrong to be as overjoyed about seeing Mom as Staze would. Unlike Dad, Stacy seemed to be herself. She was a little more reserved with strangers now. When waiters or waitresses at restaurants spoke to her beyond asking her order, she was guarded with them. She didn’t make her little napkin bows or flowers anymore. Otherwise, she was okay. She didn’t struggle to sleep or suffer nightmares about her kidnapping or the spite house. Granted, she didn’t like sleeping alone either. Next week, when they got to the new place in California, Dess would see if Stacy wanted to sleep in her own room or continue sleeping with her big sister. Then she’d have an even clearer picture of how well Staze was holding up. For now, though, she felt confident that Staze would come out of this tougher and smarter.
Dad was something else. Dess couldn’t shake the frantic look on his face when she got to him after he was trapped inside the house. How he grabbed her arm like his life depended on it. It concerned her that he didn’t want to talk about it, that he walked around as though he’d never been that person, even for an instant, much less the careful man he was before they arrived in Degener. That, plus the sleepwalking, made her think he was suppressing something and it wasn’t good for him.