—”
“You thought I believed you, didn’t you? You thought I was dumb enough to think there was really a ghost down here.”
Beth froze, her heart pounding. As she watched, Tracy pulled the rusty jackknife out of her pocket, and unfolded its blade. “Wh-what are you doing?” Beth whimpered. She started to back away, but then realized that Tracy was between her and the door.
“You killed him, didn’t you?” Tracy asked, her eyes sparkling with hatred now. She moved slowly toward Beth, the knife clutched in her right hand, its blade flashing dully in the light of the lantern. “You killed him just so you could come back and take my father. But I’m not going to let you.”
“No,” Beth whispered. “I didn’t do anything. Amy — it was Amy—”
“There isn’t any Amy!” Suddenly moving with the speed of a cat, Tracy leaped at Beth, the knife flashing out.
A stinging pain shot through Beth’s left arm, and she looked down to see blood oozing out of a long deep cut. She stared at it for a moment, almost unable to believe what she was seeing. And then she felt a movement close by, and looked up. The knife was arcing toward her, and behind it was Tracy’s face, contorted with fury.
“I hate you!” Tracy was screaming. “You’re crazy, and I hate you, and I’m going to kill you!”
Beth ducked, and the knife glanced off her shoulder, then ripped down through her right arm. She tried to twist away, but Tracy’s left hand was tangled in her hair now.
“No!” she screamed, the word almost strangling in her throat. “Please, Tracy!
But it was too late.
Tracy’s right arm rose, and then the knife came down once more, plunging into Beth’s chest. Tracy twisted at it, then yanked it free, only to plunge it in again.
“Noo …” Beth moaned. “Oh, please, no …”
Tracy suddenly let go of her hair, throwing her to the floor. Bleeding from both arms and her chest, Beth tried to scramble away, but Tracy’s foot shot out, kicking her in the stomach.
As she doubled up, the knife came down again, ripping through her back. Tracy jerked it out, then dropped to her knees, grabbing Beth’s hair once again.
Pulling Beth’s head back, she tightened her grip on the knife, then pulled it with all the strength she had across Beth’s exposed throat.
The knife cut deep, and suddenly there was nothing left of Beth’s screams but a sickening gurgling sound as the blood, pumped from a severed artery, mixed with the air being exhaled from her lungs.
For a moment Tracy froze where she was, staring down into Beth’s open eyes, etching in her mind every detail of the fear and pain that had twisted Beth’s face in the last seconds of her life. Then she dropped the corpse, letting it roll away from her as she rocked back on her heels.
The bloody knife dropped from her hand.
And then, in the flickering light of the kerosene lantern, her clothes stained with her victim’s blood, Tracy Sturgess began to laugh.…
Phillip came awake slowly, then stared up at his wife’s worried face, shading his eyes against the brightness of the chandelier. “What is it?” he asked. “What time is it?”
“Early. It’s a little after one-thirty. Phillip, the girls are gone.”
Phillip came instantly wide-awake, and sat up. “Gone? What do you mean?”
“They’re gone.” Quickly she explained what had happened. “Hannah’s looking in the basement, but I’m sure they’re not there. When I woke up, I had a funny feeling that something was wrong, that something was missing. It’s the girls. I haven’t searched the whole house, but I’m almost certain they aren’t here at all.”
Phillip, already out of bed, was pulling on a pair of khaki pants and a golf shirt. With Carolyn at his heels, he strode down the hall, first to Tracy’s room, then back to Beth’s, where Carolyn was waiting for him.
“They’ve
“But they aren’t!” Carolyn insisted.
“Did you look upstairs?”
Carolyn shook her head. “No, of course not. It’s all closed up. There’s nothing up there—”
“Well, they have to be somewhere. They wouldn’t just take off. Not in the middle of the night.” He started down the hall toward the back stairs that led to the long-empty third floor of the old house. Carolyn was about to follow him, when something caught her eye.
On Beth’s desk, there was an old leather-bound book.
She stared at it. She’d never seen it before, and she was positive it didn’t belong to Beth.
What was it, and why was it here?
She had no ready answer for either question, but suddenly, with the certain knowledge born of instinct, she knew that whatever the little book was, it was directly connected with the girls’ absence.
She picked it up and began reading, desperately deciphering the crabbed handwriting that filled the pages. After reading only a few lines she was certain she knew where Beth and Tracy were.
She went to the door, calling out her husband’s name. Then, as she was about to call him again, she saw him appear from the back stairs.
“They’re not up—”
“Phillip, I know where they are! They went to the mill!”
Phillip stared at her. “The mill?” he echoed. “What on earth are you talking about? Why would they go down there?”
“Here,” Carolyn said, holding the old journal out to him. “I found this on Beth’s desk. I don’t know where they got it, but they must have read it.”
Phillip reached out and took the book from her. “What is it?”
“A journal. It tells about the mill, Phillip, and I know that’s where the girls have gone. I know it!”
Phillip stared at his wife for a moment, then made up his mind. “I’m calling Norm Adcock,” he said at last. “And then I’m going down there.”
“I’ll go with you,” Carolyn said.
“No. Stay here. I … I don’t know what I’ll find. I don’t even know what to think right now—”
For a moment Carolyn was tempted to argue with him, but then she changed her mind. For already, in the back of her mind, she knew that something terrible had happened in the mill. Something out of the past had finally come forward, reaching out for an awful vengeance.
Tracy’s laughter slowly subsided until it was little more than a manic giggle.
She glanced around the room once more, furtively now, like an animal that was being hunted.
Then, in the soft glow of the lantern light, she dragged Beth’s body over near the far wall. High up, beyond her reach, there was a small window. Tracy placed Beth’s body beneath the window, one arm leaning against the wall, stretched upward as if it were reaching for the window above.
She returned to the place where Beth’s corpse had first fallen, and knelt down to dip her hand into the still- warm blood. When her hand was covered, she went back to the wall, and began smearing her bloodied hand over its blackened surface, leaving crudely formed marks wherever her fingers touched. Over and over she gathered more blood, until at last the message was complete.
Still giggling softly to herself, she went back to the lantern, and bent to pick it up.
And then, suddenly, the lantern light seemed to fade, and the darkness closed in around her.
She was no longer alone in the room. All around her, their faces looming out of the darkness, she saw the faces of children.
Thin faces, with cheeks sunken from hunger, the eyes wide and hollow as they stared at her.
Tracy gasped. These were the children her grandmother had seen. And now she was seeing them, and she knew they could see her too, and knew who she was, and what she had done. They were circling her, closing in on her, reaching out to her.
She backed away from them, and her foot touched something.
She gasped, knowing immediately what it was. She bent down once more, but it was too late. The lantern
