Midnight Voices

Tony?

No! It couldn’t be Tony. It had to be something else.

But what?

CHAPTER 26

Caroline walked past the door to Tony’s study three times before she finally stopped. It was early, a little after eight; Tony had left the apartment an hour ago, and Laurie thirty minutes later. Ryan had come down for breakfast, but not until after he was sure Tony was gone, and disappeared back to his room as soon as he was finished eating.

Through it all Caroline had been doing her best to ignore the door to her husband’s study. But the study was the last thing she’d thought about before she had gone to sleep and the first thing she’d thought of when she woke up this morning. Twice she’d almost asked Tony if he’d found Ryan in the musty old room, but both times she’d remembered the fear in her son’s voice when he’d begged her not to tell Tony what he’d said, and even though she couldn’t imagine what Ryan had said was true, she’d still been unable to bring herself to break the promise she’d made to him. But the moment she’d come downstairs that morning the closed door to her husband’s study had drawn her like iron to a magnet, and now, with her husband and daughter gone for the day, and Ryan upstairs in his room, she found herself approaching the door once again. For a long time she stood in front of it, listening to the huge grandfather clock next to the coat rack count the seconds.

What was she waiting for?

Did she think if she stared long enough at the heavy mahogany panel it would somehow turn transparent?

Or was she afraid of what she might find behind it?

But what could possibly be there? It was just a room, its furnishings worn and outdated. But it was the way Tony liked it. It wasn’t as if there was some great secret hidden away in the study.

Her hand closed on the ornate crystal knob, and she twisted it.

Locked.

Had it been locked before, or had Tony only locked it after he’d found Ryan inside the room? She had no idea, except she was almost certain it hadn’t been locked the first time Tony had shown it to her, and obviously it hadn’t been locked when Ryan had gone in. Suddenly the vague sense of guilt she’d felt about invading Tony’s study gave way to an urge to know what was inside, what it was that Ryan had seen that had made Tony lock the room. But where was the key? Or did she even need a key? Since she’d been working at the shop, she’d picked half a dozen locks, most of them on desks, but a couple on large armoires. Besides, there must be keys around somewhere. Going to the kitchen, she quickly searched through the drawers under the counter. The third one down to the right of the sink turned out to be the one that had wound up as the catch-all, and after she’d gone through all the rest, she went back to it, searching more carefully. Nothing.

She moved on through the apartment, glancing at each door as she passed, but none of the locks held keys. She went upstairs, repeating the process on the second floor.

No keys anywhere? But that was ridiculous.

Her curiosity growing, she went back downstairs to the kitchen, reopened the third drawer down on the right, and went through it again, this time looking for something she could use as a makeshift pick. Finding a heavy paperclip, she straightened it out, then used a pair of pliers to bend one end in a short right angle. Going back to the study, she knelt down, inserted the paper clip into the lock, and began feeling for the catch.

In less than a minute, it snapped open.

When she twisted the knob again, the door to the study swung open. Caroline stood at the threshold of the room, gazing inside.

Something had changed.

But what?

Her heart suddenly beating faster, she stepped into the study and switched on the brass chandelier that hung over Tony’s desk. As the room flooded with light, she looked around. Until now, she’d barely even glanced into the room, but from what she could see, nothing really seemed any different — the furniture, the paneling, the pictures, all of it looked the same. And yet somehow it didn’t feel the same. Frowning, she moved deeper into the study. The carpet, an antique Aubusson, seemed brighter than she remembered it, and she would have sworn that the leather on the easy chair by the fireplace was far more worn than it looked. But maybe she was just remembering it as being far more in need of a redecoration than it really was. She began looking for the photograph album Ryan had described, but though there was a relatively dust-free rectangular area on the shelf under the lamp table by the fireplace that was about the right size and shape for a photograph album, there was no sign of the album itself, nor did she find it on any of the other shelves, either. Going to the desk, she tried the drawers, one by one.

And found every one of them locked. Nor did any of them yield to the paper clip that had opened the door. She was trying to decide what to do next when the doorbell chimed in the hall outside the study. Jumping like a child who was caught with her hand in the cookie jar, Caroline moved quickly to the door, pulled it closed, and started toward the front door. But then she turned back to the study door, inserted the paper clip in its lock once again, and twisted.

Nothing happened.

The doorbell chimed again.

Swearing softly under her breath, Caroline almost abandoned the study door, but as she gave the twisted piece of metal one final twist, the lock clicked again.

As the doorbell rang a third time, she pulled the door open to find Melanie Shackleforth just starting back toward the stairs.

“You are here,” Melanie said, coming back toward Caroline. “I thought you must have changed your mind about having me keep an eye on Ryan while you’re at work.”

Caroline stared at Melanie blankly. She remembered talking to Melanie last night about watching Ryan, but they hadn’t decided anything, had they? “I — actually, I’m not even sure I’m going to work today.” Had something flickered in Melanie’s eyes as she spoke the words? She wasn’t sure — she thought so, but—

“Well, if you change your mind, just let me know, okay?” Caroline nodded, and now Melanie cocked her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you all right, Caroline?”

“I–I’m fine,” Caroline assured her. But even as she uttered the words, she knew she wasn’t fine at all. “It’s just—” she began, but then fell silent. She hardly even knew Melanie Shackleforth. How could she even begin to explain all the horrible thoughts that had been tumbling around in her mind? Finally she shook her head. “It’s nothing, really. It’s just that everything’s sort of piling up. But I’ll get it sorted out — I always do.”

Melanie looked unconvinced. “You’re sure?” Caroline nodded with a lot more emphasis than she felt. “All right. But if you need help with anything, you call me, hear?”

Closing the door behind her, Caroline leaned against it for a moment, then went upstairs to Ryan’s room. She found him sprawled out on his bed, still in his bathrobe, with some kind of video game in his hands. When he looked up at her she could see the belligerence in his eyes, and when he spoke his voice was as dark as his expression. “I’m not staying with—” he began, but Caroline didn’t let him finish.

“I’m not asking you to,” she said. “I want you to get dressed — you’re coming to work with me.”

Ryan’s expression shifted from anger to uncertainty. “You mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”

Caroline took a deep breath, trying to figure out what she should say. There was no way she could explain all the emotions that were roiling inside her — the uncertainty, the fear, the doubts about everything that had taken root in her mind. That wasn’t what Ryan needed, not after losing his father, changing schools twice in less than a year, moving out of his home, and being asked to accept a stepfather when he wasn’t even used to the loss of his real father.

What he needed was for her to be strong, to be a rock of stability for him, to let him know that she, at least, was still there for him. “Of course I’m not mad at you,” she said. “You’re my favorite boy in the world, and I love