“Lucinda,” Bertie said, “by the time we reached the boardwalk, hadn’t you gone back to the library?”
“I’m not wandering off by myself tonight,” Lucinda replied. “This is creepy.”
“I’ll walk back with you,” I said. “Connor, why don’t you stay with Bertie and the rest? You always love listening to Louise Jane’s stories.”
“I do?”
“Yes. You do.”
“I sure do,” he said.
It was an effort, but I managed to let go of his hand. I shone my little flashlight on the ground in front of Lucinda. She turned and walked away, and I followed her, focusing my light on the other woman’s feet.
Behind us Louise Jane began to speak. “Lights out, everyone.” One by one the flashlights were switched off. My eyes struggled to find their night vision. “Imagine it’s 1611, and after months of journeying across storm-tossed seas, the coast of North America has appeared at last.” Tonight, Louise Jane’s voice was different than it had been on Friday. Not strong, confident, self-assured, this one came across as hesitant and unsure. It quavered with nervousness. “You can smell land, but you can’t see it. No lights guide the way.”
After I’d taken about ten steps, I took a deep breath, steadied my shaking nerves, and turned off my flashlight. I’d timed it to coincide with the beginning of the lighthouse light’s dormant period, and the entire area was plunged into total and complete darkness. Louise Jane’s voice came out of the void: “Is that a light you see in the distance? Yes. Friend or foe is the question.”
Lucinda stumbled and she began to protest. The words died in her throat as something swayed a few feet in front us, coming our way. I was expecting it, but even I stifled a scream.
A shape began to take form out of the dark. The shape was that of a human, but it was faint, unworldly, without boundaries or edges. A thin waving light glowed from within. Brown cloth and long, loose gray hair, like tendrils of seaweed, shuddered in the slight wind. The face was nothing but deep hollows, yellow shadows, and huge accusing eyes.
Helena Sanchez stood before us. She said nothing; she did nothing. She stared at Lucinda.
Lucinda screamed. I almost screamed myself.
“What’s happening?” Ruth yelled.
“They’re here,” Sheila bellowed. “Be quiet, people.”
“Everyone stay calm,” Ronald said.
“Lucy?” Connor called. “Are you okay out there?”
I managed to force the words out. “Yes. Stay where you are.”
Lucinda was frozen to the spot, staring at the apparition in front of her. I didn’t make a move. I knew what was happening; I’d set it up, yet even I was terrified.
Was it possible Louise Jane truly had summoned something?
Helena lifted one arm and pointed directly at Lucinda. Her cloak fell back. “Why?” the deep voice said. “Why? After all these years.”
Lucinda stepped backward, trying to take herself out of the range of that accusing finger. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it. I just … I just … I’m sorry. Go away, please—go away!”
Louise Jane had stopped talking. No one moved. No one breathed.
“Why?” Helena said again.
“You know why! Jeff lied to me. He told me I was the one he loved. He told me we’d be together always. But it was all a lie. He never meant to go with me. He wanted you. You! Not me. I couldn’t live with that. He had to die. I had to kill him. It was all his fault!”
“Why?” Helena repeated.
“When you saw the withdrawal slip, you knew what happened all those years ago. I couldn’t let you tell anyone else.”
“Tell them what, Lucinda?” I was amazed at how calm my voice was.
I doubt she even heard me. With a screech of pure rage, Lucinda sprang forward and fell on Tina Ledbetter, screaming, “Why couldn’t you stay dead!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lucinda moved before I could react. She knocked Tina to the ground and jumped on top of her. Tina fell hard, and the light hidden beneath her cloak went out. I heard the sickening sound of fists hitting flesh and ran blindly toward the thrashing figures. Someone had, thank goodness, switched on a light, illuminating the scene so I could see Lucinda on top of Tina, raining blows on the other woman’s face and body. I grabbed Lucinda around the chest and tried to pull her away, but I didn’t have the strength, and my feet couldn’t get a solid grip on the wet, muddy grass. Lucinda was like a mad thing, fighting me while screaming and pounding Tina and shouting over and over, “You’re dead. You’re dead!” Tina got one arm loose and managed to land a solid punch on Lucinda’s right cheek. Lucinda recoiled, and I pulled her backward as hard as I could, but it wasn’t enough to get her off Tina. I was aware of people yelling all around me, but for the longest of moments it was as though the three of us were alone in the marsh, engaged in a desperate fight to the death. Or, as Lucinda saw it, a fight past death.
I’ve been threatened, and I’ve had to run for my life in the past, but I’ve never actually been in a physical fight before. Tina pushed and punched, and I pulled and slipped, and still Lucinda pounded and scratched and screamed.
I felt strong arms around my waist, and I was yanked away from the screaming women and tossed unceremoniously to one side. “I’ve got her,” Connor said. “Whoa there.” He grunted as he pulled Lucinda off Tina. They fell backward and Connor’s grip broke. Lucinda rolled onto her front and sprang to her feet with an agility that belied her age. She took a swing at Connor, who’d also gotten to his feet. Her punch hit him full in the face, and he staggered, but he didn’t fall. He lifted his fists but hesitated, clearly not wanting to hit an older woman.
“My sister was a darned fool,” Tina Ledbetter, still on the ground, shouted. “But not nearly
