The Hand on the Wall(54)
“I’ll go with Stevie,” Nate said, cutting through the nonsense.
In the few seconds she was outside, the wind almost blew Stevie over sideways. Luckily, the snow kept her upright. It was now to her knees. The snowcat wound its way back through the paths, its lights the only thing in the world aside from the swirling snow. Mark didn’t look thrilled about having to come out of a warm building to ferry a bunch of idiot students around in a blizzard, but he said nothing about it. He had probably seen a lot of idiot student behavior over the years.
Charles and Dr. Quinn were waiting for them. Charles was dressed more casually than normal, in a heavy fleece and sweatpants. Dr. Quinn rose to the occasion in a rose-gray cashmere sweater, a sweeping wool skirt, black cashmere tights, and tall black boots. No amount of cold was going to rob her of her queenly graces. Charles had a look on his face that said, “I’m not angry, but I am disappointed.” Dr. Quinn’s expression said, “He’s passive-aggressive. I’m not. I am aggressive. I have killed before.”
“We’ll speak to you all when the others are here,” Charles said. “For now, sit over by the fire.”
Nate and Stevie sat, side by side, warming themselves. The fires were nice at the beginning of the storm, but the appeal was waning. You were either too close or not close enough. One side of you would cook while the other would freeze. There was a lot of moving around, approaching, retreating, sweating, shivering.
Inside, the massive hall was in brownish shadow. There were some lights on, but the power was clearly being conserved. The Great House, which had been built to withstand Vermont blizzards, creaked as the winds smacked up against it. Cold air crept through the chimneys, under the massive door. It circled and spun in the great hall, sliding up and down the grand staircase and whispering along the balconies above.
As she sat there, Stevie noticed how the Great House changed its personality in different kinds of light. When she had first walked into it on a brilliant late-summer day, it was cool and vast like a museum, its opulence muted by the bright sun. During the night of the Silent Party, it had sparkled, light dancing off the crystal in the chandeliers and the doorknobs. This was another personality, the stoic one, full of shadows and nooks. A place of hiding from the storm. It never failed to amaze her that this palace of marble and art and glass was built to house three people, really. Three people, their staff, and their guests—but three people. At the height of the Depression, when people were sleeping in boxes in parks. Money lets some people live like kings while other people starve.
“Sometimes I don’t know why I’m here,” she heard herself saying. “What am I doing? No one can help the Ellinghams. They’re gone. No one is ever going to find Alice.”
“They might,” he said. “She could still be alive, right? And people—things—turn up all the time. Like in a DNA database or something.”
“But finding her wouldn’t help her,” Stevie said. “She was kidnapped in 1936. Nothing I’m doing helps anyone.”
Nate eyed her wearily.
“I think you’re working out your business,” he said. “We all have business. Like, I know I can write because I wrote something one time. But I think I can’t write again because I’m scared. I’m scared that what I write down won’t be as good as what’s in my head. Because I don’t know how I do it, only that it happens. And because I’m lazy. We’ve all got doubts. But you’ve done something huge. You figured out so much of this case. Tell someone.”
Stevie chewed on a nail for a moment.
“What if I’m wrong?” she said.
“So you’re wrong. They’re dead. They can’t get more dead. And you have . . . stuff. You have clues. Show your work to someone.”
“But then it’s over,” she said.
“Well, didn’t you want it to be?”
Stevie had no idea how to answer. Luckily, Vi and Janelle came in next, interrupting this conversation. The two of them were similarly bundled—Vi was wearing some of Janelle’s clothes, because, of course, Vi had never had a chance to go back to their house after breakfast. Even though there was a chill between them, Janelle was not going to deny Vi a sweater and scarves and a hat.
They were followed by Hunter and David. Pix brought up the rear. Once everyone was in place, Call Me Charles and Dr. Quinn started their rant—how they were disappointed, and yes Charles understood (Dr. Quinn was silent on this) that it was hard to leave school. But the students put themselves and others at risk, like Mark, who shouldn’t have had to go out in the snowcat tonight. He was red and shivering from his many trips in the snowcat.
“It’s too cold upstairs,” Mark said. “We need to conserve the heat. If they sleep in the morning room, I can get that up to a decent temperature.”
“Fine,” Charles said. “I’ll help you get the blankets and pillows from upstairs.”
“We can all help,” Pix said.
“No. Everyone stay down here. I’m not taking any chances on anyone falling in the dark.”
So everyone sat by the fire, cowed and quiet. All except for David, who got out a tablet and continued reading as if nothing was wrong at all. Mark and Charles tossed blankets and pillows from the upper balconies to save the trips down. All of these things were dragged into the morning room, which was colder than any room had a right to be.