In the Dark of the Night

Knew it when he relived it in his dreams, and woke up with his fingers flexing as if they were still around the girl’s neck like they had been in the dream.

But when he was awake, it was like the girl didn’t exist at all, and he couldn’t see her face, or feel her body, or feel his fingers sinking into the flesh of her neck.

He’d told people he remembered. He’d told the doctors, and the lawyers, and even Dr. Darby, that he remembered.

But all he actually remembered was what he’d read.

What he’d read, and how he felt when he was at Pinecrest.

When he was close to the carriage house, where all the things were stored.

All the things he was supposed to guard, and keep anyone from finding.

The things that drew him, pulled at him, whispered to him in the night.

As they were whispering now, barely audible, nothing more than faint voices at the edge of his consciousness.

“No!” The word burst out of Logan’s mouth like an explosion, startling the crow so badly that it leaped into the air, its single wing flapping madly, only to drop back to the floor a moment later, eyeing Logan balefully.

Even the dog, deaf for years, stirred slightly, and Logan scratched his ear to settle him down once more.

Only when the dog was once again sleeping peacefully did Logan move across the floor to his own bed, which was little more than a nest of tattered blankets on a worn mattress that lay in a corner of the tiny cabin. He held his head and rocked back and forth, trying to get the whispering to stop before the voices became clear and spoke to him distinctly.

Because once the voices started, once he began listening to them, bad things started to happen.

Chapter 7

MERRILL WENT OVER the shopping list in her head one more time as she pulled into the parking lot to pick Marci up from the Summer Fun program that the Phantom Lake Elementary School was running, and that Marci had reluctantly agreed to try for the day.

“But if I hate it, I don’t have to go back, okay?” the little girl had insisted for what seemed like the hundredth time when Merrill had dropped her off two hours ago. Merrill had gotten the message loud and clear that Marci fully intended to hate Summer Fun no matter what might be going on, but at least she’d given it a chance.

In the two hours she’d had to herself since then, Merrill had gotten better acquainted with the town. She had been to the grocery store — which was far better stocked than she’d anticipated — picked up the hot dogs and steaks at Vern’s Butcher Shop, browsed through the bookstore, found two art galleries that actually had decent things in them, and picked up all the odds and ends that were either missing from the house or she’d forgotten to pack. The rear of the Lexus was almost as jammed as it had been nearly a week ago, when they’d driven up from Evanston, and there was far more food than she’d need tonight when the Sparkses and the Newells arrived.

All that was left after picking up Marci was a stop at the hardware store to get some citronella candles.

As she braked the car to a stop at exactly the place she’d dropped Marci off two hours ago, she braced herself for her daughter’s recitation of her objections to Summer Fun. But when Marci jumped into the car, her first words were the opposite of what Merrill had prepared for.

“Guess what, Mom? I get to be in the Fourth of July parade!” Merrill gaped at her daughter in utter shock, but Marci barely noticed. “We’re going to do a red, white, and blue float, with flags and everything, and we have to start working on it Monday. It’s going to be made out of tissue paper and, listen to this: I get to be the Statue of Liberty! Can you take Krissy and me shopping?”

“Who’s Krissy?” Merrill asked, as Marci paused for a breath.

“She’s my friend!” Marci replied, giving her mother the kind of scornful look only a ten-year-old can muster. “So can you? Take us shopping? We need to get stuff to make my costume.”

“That’s wonderful news, honey. Of course we can go shopping. We’ll go next week.”

“And can I go over to Krissy’s house tomorrow?”

A wave of relief broke over Merrill as she put the car in gear and made the right turn down Main Street. “Shouldn’t be a problem,” she said once they were safely on the road. “So what do you think?” she asked as she scanned the block for the hardware store. “Did Dad and Eric get the boat running yet?”

Marci rolled her eyes. “Dad said that they don’t know what they’re doing.”

Merrill pulled into a diagonal parking spot directly in front of the kind of old-fashioned hardware store that hadn’t existed at home for as long as she could remember, feeling like she’d somehow slipped back at least half a century in time. “Want to come in?”

As Marci slid out of the car, Merrill scanned the window of the antiques shop next to the hardware store and stopped short, her eyes fixing on a floor lamp with a stained-glass shade — exactly the kind she’d been looking for to finish Dan’s study at home. She backed up two steps and looked at the sign on the store.

CAROL’S ANTIQUES

“Let’s stop in here for a minute, okay?” She pulled the door open and Marci followed her into the small shop’s air-conditioned interior. While Marci headed for a case filled with ancient dolls in faded dresses, Merrill went directly to the lamp.

Up close it was even better; Dan would love it.

“Hi,” a cheerful voice said from behind her. “Can I help you?”

Merrill turned to see a smartly dressed woman about her own age whose smile actually seemed genuine rather than pasted on to impress a possible customer. “I just love this lamp,” she said, realizing too late that she’d just undercut her bargaining position.

“Isn’t it something?” the woman asked. “It just came in yesterday.” She moved closer, holding out her hand. “I’m Carol Langstrom.”

“Merrill Brewster. That’s my daughter Marci drooling over the dolls.”

“Up for the summer?” Carol asked, putting on her reading glasses and peering at the tag on the lamp.

“Yes. We’re staying at Pinecrest.”

“Pinecrest? Really?” Carol took her glasses off and looked again at Merrill.

Merrill cocked her head. “You sound surprised.”

“I am surprised. I didn’t think it would be for rent.”

Merrill’s brow creased slightly. “Why not?”

Suddenly, Carol Langstrom looked uncomfortable. “Well, it’s just that Dr. Darby was an odd sort of man.” As Merrill’s frown deepened, Carol Langstrom spoke more quickly. “It’s not that I disliked him. I didn’t. No one did. In fact, he was very well respected in town. And certainly one of my best customers — practically everything in Pinecrest came through my shop.”

Merrill’s puzzlement deepened. “Then what’s the problem?” she pressed as Marci wandered back from the doll display.

“Oh, mostly it was probably small-town rumor,” Carol Langstrom replied. “And perhaps I misspoke — it wasn’t so much that Dr. Darby was odd as much as it was his interests that were—” She hesitated, then spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “Well, they were odd. He worked with the criminally insane down at Central. You know, Central State Hospital? From what I’ve heard, he was doing some kind of experiments on some of his patients. New kinds of treatment or something, I suppose. But then to have him disappear like that! At the time, the stories were just incredible! I heard that one of his patients murdered him, and I heard that his experiments made him go crazy himself. I don’t know — it was all just so strange. Kind of creepy, you know?”

Now Merrill was barely listening as some of Carol Langstrom’s words echoed in her mind.

…creepy…