She ran her hand along the wall.
“Stop,” said Matthew.
But she kept going, and when he made a move toward her, Mason stepped in to stop him.
“What did you do to Amelia, Matthew?” Mason asked, sounding more despairing than angry.
“Nothing,” Matthew said, backing away. “I never hurt anyone.”
It was true and it wasn’t true. Samantha had come to sit on the bottom of the stairs, and she was crying.
“Matthew, tell the truth now,” she said between sobs. “It’s time. It’s past time. Look at all these people, all this pain. Please. Set us all free.”
Claire drifted into the darkness, and Ian followed her.
Mason moved closer to Matthew, nostrils flared, breath labored.
“You always were a bully and a liar,” said Mason. “You did a good job of pretending to be a nice guy. But there was always another layer to you, wasn’t there?”
God, Matthew hated him. “Shut the fuck up,” he said. “Get away from me.”
But Mason kept talking. “The time you locked me in that shed, or held me underwater in the quarry lake. The time you hit me in the face with the baseball. It was all on purpose, wasn’t it?”
Matthew felt something ugly rise up, something that didn’t totally belong to him. It made him smile.
“My family owns your family, Mason,” he said, voice as sharp as a straight razor. “Always has.”
It happened fast; Mason hauled off and punched Matthew hard in the face, and they both went down to the ground, Matthew issuing an oof as the wind got knocked from him. Strangely, it felt good, like a hundred years of pent-up rage and resentment finally released. Matthew relished the metallic taste of his own blood in his mouth, even more than landing a hard blow to Mason’s kidneys, again, again. Mason got him on the jaw again. Matthew brought a knee up into the other man’s ribs. There was shouting, but Matthew barely heard as they tumbled on the ground, elbows jabbing, fists flying.
Mason was strong. Stronger than Matthew would have thought possible for someone so skinny and small. His fists felt like concrete on his jaw, his ribs, his stomach. Finally, his strength flagged, and Mason bested him, sat astride him with his fist raised. Matthew, mouth full of blood, started to laugh when Mason hesitated to deliver the blow that would surely knock him senseless. He would welcome that oblivion now.
“Don’t do it, Mace,” said Ian, drawn back by the noise of the fight to stop them from hurting each other. He stood above them and put a hand over Mason’s fist. “Don’t let him drive you to do something you’re going to regret for the rest of your life.”
Mason lowered his fist, sat panting on top of Matthew.
“It’s over, Matthew,” said Avery. “The detective who has been investigating the case of your missing mistress contacted me a few weeks ago, asking questions about you, about your connection to Amelia. I called her as soon as Sam let me know that Jewel was missing. She said that the police only needed one more reason to look at Matthew Merle to reopen Sylvia’s case. They might be on their way already.”
And as she said it, Matthew heard the faintest sound of helicopter blades. There were no roads to Havenwood. They’d need to come by air and foot.
He looked over at the staircase where Samantha and Jewel had stood, but his family was gone.
Then Claire’s terrible scream cut through the air.
Avery and Ian went running toward the sound. Matthew stayed on the ground, knowing what she’d found.
Relief was a wave. It was over. A moment later, Avery March’s tortured wailing filled the room.
And Mason, still on top of Matthew, bowed his head and started to cry.
Matthew Merle searched inside for the piece of himself that used to be good and found only the emptiness of darkness. Even the Dark Man had deserted him. He started, for no reason at all, to laugh.
17.
Outside, the gloaming filled with light and sound. A helicopter landed in the clearing, and Jewel covered her ears against the roar, the trees dancing in the wind.
Police officers moved from the trees, their shouting filling the night. Jewel stood with her mother’s arms wrapped around her and tried to make sense of what had happened. But she couldn’t; it all slipped away like the nightmares she used to have as a kid.
Samantha pointed back toward Havenwood, yelling something to a cop. Then another one moved them over toward the trees.
“What’s happening?” Jewel wailed.
But her mother didn’t answer, just stared blankly out into the trees, eyes glassy with shock and sadness.
That was when Jewel saw the kid standing nearby. He hovered, hands in his pockets, watching her. At first she thought he was one of the boys from Havenwood, a lost soul looking for a way home. But no, he was gawky, awkward, solid in the world. Cute. She moved away from her mom, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Eldon?” she said. She recognized him somehow, even though she’d never seen him.
“Hey,” he said, looking surprised.
“Did you do this? Did you call the police?”
“I, uh, yeah,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I was worried. I’m sorry. I wasn’t stalking you or anything.”
She looked back at Havenwood. All the windows were dark. She wasn’t sure what came over her, but she moved over to him quickly and took him into a hug.
“Thank you,” she said. “For having my back.”
He stiffened with surprise for a moment, then closed his arms around her. He felt good, solid, strong. Not an avatar. Or the ghost of a lost girl. A real person. Flesh and blood.
18.
THE HOLLOWS GAZETTE
One-Tank Trips
Historic Merle House is a wellness retreat just a stone’s throw from home, but one with a storied past and more
