Kelly felt the blood drain from her face, and turned to face the old woman. “H-How do you know about him?”
Clarey smiled, revealing worn teeth. “Now, never you mind how I know. There’s lots I know.” Her eyes fixed on Kelly. “Do you want me to tell you who you be?”
Kelly said nothing, watching the old woman mutely.
“He stolt you,” Clarey told her. “The Dark Man stolt you from your mama, and brung you to me before you was even a day old. Then he took you away ag’in, and said you wouldn’t never be back, that he were lettin’ you go.” Her chin quivered and a tear ran down her cheek. “But it were too late, wam’t it?” she asked. “He’d already took your soul, an’ I couldn’t give it back to you.”
Kelly’s eyes darted toward Michael, who was listening raptly. “That’s what’s wrong with us, isn’t it?” he asked softly. “That’s why we never feel like other people.”
Clarey nodded. “It’s what he takes from you. He says it ain’t true, but I know it is. It’s how you feel, ain’t it? Like you’re dead?”
“It’s always been that way,” Kelly breathed. “Ever since I was a little girl. I–I thought I was crazy—”
“Hush,” Clarey told her. “Don’t you go thinkin’ that. It ain’t you that’s crazy — it’s him! And now it’s time to stop it, if’n we can.”
She began talking, her voice droning softly in the night. “I know who they be, all of ’em.” Her eyes came to rest on Kelly once again. “And that’s why you come back. He said you wouldn’t never come back, but he was wrong. You
Michael’s brows knit. “Time?” he echoed. “Time for what?”
Clarey Lambert’s voice hardened. “Time to end it. It’s time to take your souls back from thems as stole ’em.”
There was a long silence in the room, and then Michael spoke, his voice barely audible. “Did the Dark Man bring me to you, too?”
Clarey’s eyes turned to twin fragments of glittering stone. “Oh, yes,” she whispered. “He brung you to me. But I know’d he wouldn’t keep you in the swamp.” There was a heavy silence, and Michael sensed what she was about to say even before she spoke the words. “He’s your papa,” she finally said. “You be the Dark Man’s son.”
• • •
Outside, Amelie Coulton carefully dipped her oars into the water and silently pulled her boat away from Clarey Lambert’s house. She’d heard it all, listened to everything Clarey had said.
And now she knew.
Her baby hadn’t died at all.
Hers, and who else’s?
But who could she tell?
Who would believe her?
• • •
Craig Sheffield glanced at his watch. It was almost four in the morning, and not only Kelly Anderson, but now Michael, too, seemed to have been swallowed up by the swamp. Until an hour ago he’d maintained the hope that if he went just a little farther, rounded one more bend, circled one more of the endless tiny islands, he would come upon Michael’s boat and find that nothing more serious than an empty gas tank had befallen his son.
But hope had finally begun to drain away, and though he kept on searching, he felt as if his mind had been dulled by the long night. He still stopped every few yards, cut the engine, and listened for the sound of a motor puttering in the distance.
But there was nothing. Nothing except the endless droning of the insects, a droning he’d long since stopped hearing, except when he wanted to hear the sound of Kelly’s voice, or Michael’s boat.
Then the night sounds seemed to rise to a deafening level, drowning out anything else that might be there.
He rounded another curve and cut the engine yet again. A hundred feet away he could see the glowing green light of Carl Anderson’s starboard lamp, and farther away he could make out the white stern light of one of the other boats that had lingered in the swamp, its occupant refusing to give up until the sun rose and brought with it the searchers that Tim Kitteridge had promised. But all of them were as tired as Craig himself was now, and he wondered if perhaps, unknowingly, they’d passed Kelly by, her own calls drowned out by the engines of the boats and the eternal insects.
The Bayliner drifted to a stop, and Craig sat behind the wheel, listening. The moon had risen high in the sky now, its reflection glimmering on the surface of the water. Every now and then Craig could see the glowing eyes of nocturnal animals, foraging for food, pausing in their hunt to stare at him.
Once, half an hour ago, a screech had rent the night and the insects had gone suddenly silent. A chill had passed through Craig, but whatever had been attacked in the darkness made no more sounds, and soon the insects had resumed their endless song.
Now, though, as he sat in the darkness, a new song came to him.
Barely audible at first, it grew steadily louder.
A boat, coming toward him, its engine throbbing in the night.
He waited, unconsciously holding his breath, certain he recognized the unique rhythm of the motor. At last, from out of one of the narrow channels, a shadow appeared, a white froth of wake spreading out behind it.
Craig stood up in the Bayliner, hope surging once more. “Michael? Michael!”
The boat turned, and sped up, and a moment later the little skiff, with Kelly sitting on the center seat and Michael astern next to the engine, pulled alongside. “Dad? Dad, I found her!”
Tears of relief flooded Craig’s eyes and a lump rose in his throat. “You’re okay?” he cried, his voice cracking. “Both of you?”
“We’re fine,” Michael replied.
Craig gaped helplessly at his son, not sure whether to laugh or cry or vent the rage he felt at Michael for going off alone and frightening him so. Bone-tired, he’d been wandering through the swamp for hours, searching for his son, fearing the worst. But now, that didn’t matter. Michael was safe. And he’d found Kelly. Craig reached down to the dash of the Bayliner and began flashing his navigation lights. All around him the other boats turned toward him, moving quickly closer.
“They’re back,” Craig yelled as Carl Anderson’s boat came near. “Michael found Kelly!”
Carl pulled his boat alongside Craig’s and tossed a line to the other man. Michael pulled his boat up to Carl’s.
“Kelly?” Ted Anderson said, his voice shaking. “Honey, are you all right?”
Kelly looked up at her father. “Are you still mad at me?”
Ted took a deep breath, then let it out in a long sigh. “How can I be mad at you? I thought you—” He cut off his words, unwilling to complete the thought. “I’m just glad you’re back. Where did you go? We’ve been hunting for hours.” He held out his hand and helped Kelly move from Michael’s boat into his father’s.
“I got lost,” Kelly told him. “I was just running at first, and then I was afraid to come out. And when I decided to come home, I didn’t know where I was. If Michael hadn’t found me …” Her voice trailed off as she remembered what her father had said about Michael only a few hours before.
But Ted looked down at her, then his arms went around her and he pulled her close.
“Maybe I was wrong,” he said. “Maybe he’s not such a bad kid, after all. The important thing is that you’re both back, and you’re both fine.”
But we’re not fine, Kelly thought silently. Michael’s not fine and I’m not fine. Then she shivered in her father’s arms as Clarey Lambert’s words echoed in her mind.
Only then would they be truly fine again.
• • •
“Listen,” Barbara Sheffield said. “Do you hear something?”
But Mary was already on her feet, moving toward the patio door. Barbara followed her, and as Mary slid the wide glass panel open, they heard the sound of a boat coming along the canal.
“That’s the Bayliner,” Barbara said, her voice vibrant as hope washed away the fear that had been building in
