The Visitor(87)

“But she must have known about Ezra. She was right there. Even if you managed to fool her about the poison, she would have heard the gunshot. She would have felt the recoil in her body.”

Nelda nodded. “There was no help for that, I’m afraid. She was horribly upset, as you can imagine, but I convinced her to remain silent or we’d be put away. Still, it tormented her. She couldn’t eat or sleep and I knew it was only a matter of time before she cracked, so she had to be gotten rid of, too.”

“How?”

The eyes gleamed. “I drowned her like an unwanted puppy.”

A shudder ran through me at the image. Poor Mott, trapped by the confines of her body and bound for eternity to the twin that had become a monster.

“You used cloves to cover the smell, but not from the decay of Mott’s body. From the stench of the entity inside you.”

“So you’ve finally figured it out. You’ve solved Rose’s puzzle.”

Despite her taunt, my mind was still working frantically to put it all together. To connect all the dots. “Rose knew about you, didn’t she? She could see it inside you. So you blinded her. And then you killed her.”

“She’d been slowly losing her sight for years. That’s why she’d learned braille, in anticipation of her coming darkness. Given her gifts, perhaps she saw it as a blessing.”

“Is that what you told yourself when you put out her eyes with that key?” I asked angrily.

Her eyes darkened. “You should have heeded the warning. At least Louvenia was smart enough to stop asking questions. But you. You had to keep digging. You had to keep poking.” She started up the steps, using the cane for support. I backed away, keeping my distance, still certain that I could outrun her. Still certain I was in no immediate danger.

Suddenly, the door to the guest cottage flew open and the sound caught me by surprise. As I whirled toward the newcomer, Nelda whipped the cane across my shins and I went down hard on the porch.

Then she struck me across the back. Still I tried to rise. I even managed to get to my knees before a blow to the head flattened me.

“I’m surprised that one didn’t kill her,” Owen Dowling said as he came to kneel beside me.

I tried to lift a hand to the explosion of pain at my temple, but I couldn’t muster the strength. I lay there paralyzed as the world spun around me.

“Take her phone,” I heard Nelda say. “And that key around her neck...give it to me. Quick!”

The last thing I heard was Owen’s chuckle. The last thing I felt was the ribbon sliding from my neck.





Forty-Nine

I woke up in complete darkness with no sense of where I was. Disturbing images floated through my mind. The stereogram...the keys...all those numbers. Nelda staring up at me from the bottom of the porch. The door of the cottage flying open...a struggle...a blow to my head...an explosion of stars...

As I fought my way out of the confusion, I realized I was lying on my back in a very close space. I lifted my hands reflexively and discovered a flat surface only a few inches above me.

My first panicky thought was that I had been placed in a tomb or coffin, probably somewhere in Kroll Cemetery. A scream rose to my throat as I pressed against the lid with the heels of my hands and then pounded with my fists until my knuckles grew raw. I felt sick, disoriented and on the verge of a claustrophobic meltdown.

With an effort I forced myself to lie back and slow my breathing. In...out. In...out. Don’t think about the walls closing in on you. Don’t think about the weight of a tomb pressing down on you. In...out. In...out.

Once I felt calmer, I tried to take stock of my prison. I wasn’t in total darkness as I’d first thought. I could see the silhouette of my hand when I held it in front of me and I had a sense of space when I peered straight ahead or to the side. And I could feel a draft. Which likely meant I wasn’t buried underground or enclosed in a tomb.

But that breeze carried a scent. A trace so foul that I thought at once of the odor wafting from beneath Rose’s porch.

I knew where I was then. I was under Rose’s house. Locked inside that strange fence where she’d once trapped the entity that now resided in Nelda Toombs’s body.

Terror gripped me and I lashed out, kicking and pounding the floorboards in a blind frenzy. But the rotting planks held fast, and in a flash of reason, I realized that a dislodged support could bring the whole house down upon me.

I fell back against the ground, spent and shivering. I had to get control of my fear. Panic was the enemy. I’d been in close places before, dangerous places, and I was strong. Stronger than I even realized, Nelda had said. I could get out of here. All I had to do was remain calm. Concentrate. Make my way to the side of the house and find an opening.

Breathe. In...out. In...out.

And hurry.

I had no idea if Owen Dowling had left me there for dead or if he would return to finish me off. A vague recollection niggled. An overheard conversation so hazy I couldn’t be sure it had really happened. I had been floating at the edge of consciousness. Dreaming, perhaps...

“Is she dead?”

“No, there’s a pulse.”

“You’ll have to finish her off, then.”

“Oh, God, Auntie. I’m not cut out for this.”

“Do you want your money or don’t you? And let me remind you, there are bigger stakes to consider. Once we take care of Louvenia, all of the Kroll holdings will someday be yours.”