Or the intruder had.
When they came to the landing, she looked at him questioningly. “Were they in every room?”
“It doesn’t look like it,” Tom replied. “Just your room, as far as I could see.”
Teri saw three things the moment she entered the master bedroom: the broken photograph of Ryan on the floor, her underwear hanging out of a drawer, and the open lid of her jewelry box. As she reached down to pick up the picture, Tom put a gently restraining hand on her arm.
“The police need to see everything exactly as it is,” he told her, his voice thick with sympathy.
She glared at the mess with impotent fury, knowing she’d never again be able to wear any of the clothes they had touched, no matter how many times she washed them. And the jewelry box had contained nothing but junk! The only thing she owned of any value was her engagement ring, and it was now on her right hand; she still always wore it.
The rest was worthless!
And the photograph of Ryan…its glass and frame broken.
“What else is there besides what we can see?” Tom pressed, pulling her attention from the ruined photograph. “Look around.”
Reluctantly — afraid of what she might find at every step — Teri moved through the rest of the upstairs rooms: Ryan’s room, the study, the bathrooms.
Nothing else seemed amiss.
She came back into her room and stood looking down into her jewelry box.
“It seems like they just wanted jewelry or money,” she finally said. “But it was just junk jewelry. Costume stuff.” Unbidden, her lips twisted into a rueful smile. “And I sure don’t have enough money to keep cash hidden in my lingerie drawer.”
“You should still try to give the police a list of everything that’s gone,” Tom said, his voice tinged with indignation. “It doesn’t matter how much any of it was worth — it was yours!”
Teri chuckled bitterly. “Look at this,” she said, pointing. “They took the turquoise necklace — which was nothing but ground turquoise in resin, but left the earrings. And they’re at least real! It doesn’t make sense.”
“Probably junkies,” Tom said. “All they’d do is grab whatever looked like it might be easy to sell.”
Teri sank down on the bed and put her head in her hands. “First, Ryan is mad at me, and now this.” She sighed, then felt the bed depress as Tom sat next to her.
“Not the best of evenings,” he agreed.
Nodding tiredly, she laid her head on his shoulder, and he put a comforting arm around her. “Why me?” she asked hollowly. “What could they have been looking for?”
“Cash. And all they need to see is an empty house — doesn’t matter which one. It could have been anyone. It’s not personal. I’m just glad you weren’t home alone when it happened.”
Teri looked up at him, emotions swirling so fast she couldn’t put words to them.
Tom hugged her close. “You won’t ever need to be home alone again. Not if I’m here.”
A sob rose up to choke Teri. “Ryan—” was all she could manage to say.
“Ryan’s not here, honey. You need someone to be here with you. To protect you.” He kissed her temple. “And I need you.”
Teri took a ragged breath.
“Shh,” he soothed her. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
With all her heart, Teri wished she could believe him.
CHAPTER 43
FATHER SEBASTIAN GAZED speechlessly at Father Laughlin, who seemed to have aged at least ten years since the younger man had seen him only a few hours ago. Now the old headmaster sat shrunken and hunched on the couch in Sebastian’s small sitting room, his face ashen, his hands trembling as he tried to hold the small glass of whiskey the younger priest had offered him. Only after the old man had taken a sip did Father Sebastian finally find his voice. “You didn’t,” he breathed. “Please tell me you didn’t try to conduct the rite on your own.”
“I wish I could,” Laughlin said, draining the shot, then setting the glass down and leaning forward to hold his head in his hand. He took a deep breath, then another, and when he looked up, Sebastian saw the shame in his eyes, and the sorrow etched deeply in every wrinkle and crevice of his weathered face. But neither the shame nor the sorrow could change the reality of Laughlin’s attempt to exorcise the evil in Jeffrey Holmes.
“What were you thinking?” Sebastian whispered.
Laughlin seemed to become even smaller as he shook his head helplessly. “I’m so sorry.”
Sebastian took a deep breath, then laid a gentle hand on the old priest’s shoulder. “You understand that the damage you did may well be irreversible?”
Laughlin looked up uncertainly. “But he was already a lost soul, wasn’t he?”
“Souls are not ever completely lost,” Sebastian replied. “Not while there is life, faith, and hope.”
Laughlin sank his head back into his hands.
“We must see how bad he is,” Father Sebastian said.
Laughlin’s head snapped up again. “You don’t mean to go back in there?”
Sebastian spread his hands. “What choice do we have? We must do what we can for the boy.”
“I can’t. I tell you, it was the most horrible—”
“I know,” Sebastian said. “I have seen the demon before. But if there’s any chance of saving him, it’s going to take both of us.”
† † †
The flashlight Ryan had borrowed from Clay needed fresh batteries, but it cast just enough of a weak yellowish beam to illuminate the uneven stones in the floor and enough of the damp walls to keep Ryan’s panic at bay. Steeling himself against the terror that had nearly overwhelmed him when he and Melody had come down here a few nights ago, he tried to remember the exact route they had taken to get to the back door of the infirmary.
The staircase in the dining hall had been simple enough to find, and he’d clearly remembered turning right at its foot. But after that he’d been less certain, and now, as the passages seemed to go off in every direction, and he no longer had any real idea of where he might be, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the knot of fear in his belly, and the cold chill that seemed to be coming right up from the floor, through his shoes, and into his legs.
Maybe he should just give it up and try to find his way back.
But how?
He couldn’t even remember how many turns he’d made, let alone which way any of them had gone. And if he made a mistake—
The flashlight dimmed slightly, and just the thought of being plunged into darkness elicited a groan from Ryan’s throat that echoed off the walls to taunt him over and over. Then, just as he was about to turn and run the other way, he saw it. At the farthest reach of its beam, the flashlight found the edge of a doorway.
A doorway that looked familiar.
A surge of relief ran through Ryan as he stepped through the door a moment later and mounted the stairs.
He paused at the main floor, listened for any sound at all, then went on up to the second floor landing.
There it was — the door to the infirmary, just as Melody had shown him. Carefully, silently, he gripped the cold brass knob on the door and turned it.
The knob turned, but the door didn’t open.
