Second Child Part 29

"That's not true-"

"Of course it is. And now that Teri's back, you don't really have any further use for Melissa, do you? You got Polly's house, and her husband, and her friends. Now you've got her daughter, too. So what do you need your own for?" He turned and moved toward the door, then faced his wife again. "But I won't have it, Phyllis. I won't send Melissa away, and I won't have you making her life miserable anymore. Just let her be who she is. Because if you don't, I swear I'll send you away before I send her away."

By the time he opened the door and left the master suite, Teri was already halfway down the stairs. But she'd heard enough. Phyllis was already convinced.

Soon, her father would be, too.

"You're sure you can handle this?" Charles asked Melissa twenty minutes later. "If you don't want to go, you don't have to. I'm sure everyone will understand."

For a split second Melissa was tempted to seize the opportunity to stay home from Jeff's funeral, but even as she opened her mouth to speak, she remembered her mother's words an hour ago: "You will go to the funeral, and you will behave yourself. Not going would be as much as admitting you knew what you were doing Sat.u.r.day night. It's bad enough that everyone already thinks you're crazy-if they think you did it deliberately, none of us will ever be able to hold up our heads here again!"

Now, as her mother glared darkly at her from her position a few feet behind her father, Melissa swallowed the words already on the tip of her tongue and managed a nod. "I want to go," she breathed. "I-I always liked Jeff."

But an hour later, as she sat in the small Episcopal church which was supported primarily by the Cove Club crowd, she wished she'd stayed home after all.

From the moment she'd walked into the church, her father beside her, she'd felt as if everyone there were watching her, staring at her, silently accusing her.

She'd tried to ignore it, sitting quietly in the pew between her father and Teri, her eyes glued to the little memorial the usher had handed her on the way in. But now, as the minister finished the eulogy and began the final prayer, she looked up, glancing around uneasily.

Most of the people in the church had their heads bowed, but here and there she saw eyes watching her.

Cyndi Miller was staring right at her. But at least when she looked at Cyndi, the other girl looked quickly away.

Ellen Stevens, on the other hand, glared at her, and it was Melissa herself who immediately shifted her eyes from Ellen's accusing gaze.

But I didn't do anything, she told herself once more. I was just walking along the road.

Or had she been?

She still couldn't remember anything at all, not from the time she'd put the wig on until the blast of the Porsche's horn had sounded in her ears.

What if it had had been D'Arcy? been D'Arcy?

She had to put the question out of her mind, had to stop thinking about it. If she didn't, she'd go crazy.

Unless she already was.

But she didn't feel crazy, most of the time.

Suddenly she felt Teri nudging her, and came out of her reverie. Ahead of her the row of people were already on their feet, moving slowly into the side aisle and walking up toward the front of the church where the open casket sat on the catafalque.

Melissa felt a chill of panic creep over her.

Did she have to do that?

Did she have to look at Jeff's face?

Next to her her father stood up, and she numbly got to her feet.

I won't look, she told herself. I'll go up there, but when I pa.s.s the coffin, I'll close my eyes.

She edged sideways, following her father into the aisle, and a moment later felt a twinge of panic as more people crowded in behind her. She glanced around, searching for a means of escape. But the side doors were all closed, with an usher standing in front of each of them, and she couldn't bear the idea of scurrying across one of the empty pews, then running down the center aisle.

She was at the front of the church now, and she could hear the people ahead of her sighing softly, or muttering a quiet good-bye as they looked down into the coffin.

And then she was in front of the coffin herself.

Instead of closing her eyes, as she'd silently sworn to do, she gazed down into Jeff Barnstable's face.

He didn't look dead at all.

His eyes were closed and his face wore a peaceful expression, as if he were merely sleeping. Instinctively, she reached out and gently touched his face.

His flesh was hard, and cold as marble.

She gasped, and the panic that had been building inside her burst forth. "Nooo," she moaned. "I didn't mean to-I didn't-"

Her tears overwhelmed her then, and she buried her face in her hands. Instantly, her father's arm slid protectively around her and he hurried her down the aisle, threading his way quickly through the crowd of people.

The crowd of people who were staring at her.

Staring at her, and whispering among themselves.

She could almost hear them, accusing her.

"No!" she screamed. "I didn't do it! It was D'Arcy! It was D'Arcy who did it!"

A moment later she was out of the church, in the bright sunlight of the summer afternoon. She blinked and looked up to see her father gazing down at her, his eyes sympathetic, his gentle hand stroking her hair. But then she saw her mother.

Though Phyllis said nothing, Melissa shuddered as she felt the fury that emanated from the angry slits that were her mother's eyes. Terrified by her mother's silent rage, Melissa didn't notice the small smile of satisfaction on Teri MacIver's face.

As her father gently steered her to the car, a wave of hopelessness swept over Melissa.

I've done it again, she thought. And this time, she'll never forgive me.

CHAPTER 23.

"I don't understand how she could have done that," Phyllis complained. They'd arrived home an hour before, and after calling Dr. Andrews, Charles had gone into the village to pick up a prescription for a sedative. Now Melissa was upstairs in bed, where Charles had sat with her until the medicine had begun to take effect. When she'd finally dropped into sleep he'd come back downstairs to find Phyllis, her features set angrily, pacing restlessly in the library. Teri, still dressed for the funeral, was perched nervously on a chair.

"Well, it doesn't surprise me at all," Charles replied. "Frankly, I can't imagine why she went in the first place, the way she's been feeling."

"She went," Phyllis interjected, "because she knew it was the right thing to do. And it would have been fine, if she'd simply managed to control herself. But to make a scene like that..." Her voice trailed off and she shook her head hopelessly. Then, after glancing at the clock, she sighed heavily and seemed to pull herself together. "I suppose we'd better get going. The graveside service should be over, and-"

"Going?" Charles stared at his wife, almost unable to believe what she was suggesting. "You're not seriously suggesting we go to the reception, are you?"

Phyllis met her husband's gaze for a moment, but turned quickly away. "Of course I am," she said. "And the last thing I need from you right now is an argument. What else can we do? After Melissa's performance at the service, the least we can do is apologize for her. Didn't you see the look on Paula's face?"

Charlese's jaw set. "I don't give a d.a.m.n about Paula Barnstable, or any of the rest of them. Right now all I care about is my daughter. If you think I'm going to leave her alone now-"

"You're not," Phyllis broke in. "Teri says she'll stay with her."

Charles shifted his gaze to his older daughter, who smiled at him sympathetically. "I really think Phyllis is right, Daddy," she said. "I saw the way some of the people were looking at Melissa. And if none of us goes to the reception, won't it just make things look worse?"

Charles c.o.c.ked his head. "Nothing happened except that Melissa got upset," he began, but frowned as he saw Teri and Phyllis exchange a quick glance. "Is there something I don't know about?"

Teri shifted in her chair, as if reluctant to speak. "I-Well, a lot of the kids are talking about Melissa," she said at last, her eyes studiously avoiding her father's. "They-Well, some of them think she's kind of-" She hesitated a moment, as if searching for the right word. "... well, they think she's kind of strange."

"You mean they think she's crazy," Charles said bluntly. "I know how kids are-I was one myself once."

"I didn't say that," Teri hastily replied. "But-Well, I just think Phyllis is right. Wouldn't it be better if you went and explained that Melissa was just upset, but that she's all right now? I mean, if none of us goes, it's just going to make it worse for Melissa, isn't it? Everyone will think we were afraid to leave her alone."

Charles was about to protest once again, but then changed his mind. Teri, after all, was right-all that had happened, really, was that Melissa had burst into tears. If he let himself overreact to it, in the long run it could could only make things worse. In fact, he could almost hear the kids talking now: only make things worse. In fact, he could almost hear the kids talking now: "They had to take her home and lock her up. She was so hysterical no one could even leave the house."

"I knew she was weird, but at the funeral she went completely nuts. They had to put her in a straitjacket."

None of it would be true, of course, but that wouldn't stop the kids' talk. If he and Phyllis went to the reception, explaining that Melissa had simply gotten upset but was fine now, it might put a damper on the worst of the wagging tongues. "All right," he said at last, still not completely certain he was doing the right thing, but having no stomach for a further argument with his wife. "We'll go." He went over to Teri and put his arm around her, giving her a quick hug. "You sure you don't mind staying with Melissa?"

Teri shook her head, her lips compressing into a sad smile. "I-I really don't like funerals. I'd rather stay here with Melissa."

Ten minutes later, after checking once more on his younger daughter and finding her fast asleep, Charles hurried down the front steps to the car, where Phyllis was waiting impatiently.

From the porch, Teri waved good-bye.

Twenty minutes later Cora tapped at Teri's door, then pushed it open. "I'm goin' into the village," she said. "I'm gonna make a lemon pie for Melissa, and there's a couple things I need."

Teri glanced up from the magazine she was reading. "So?"

Cora's lips compressed into a tight line as she heard the insolence in Teri's voice. "So I just wanted to know if there was anything you needed." Then, realizing that Teri was still wearing the dress she'd put on for the funeral, she shook her head in disapproval. "You're going to ruin that dress, lying around in that way. It's linen, you know."

Teri shrugged. "If it gets wrecked, I can buy a new one. We're not poor, you know."

Cora took a deep breath, the temptation to give Teri a lecture on the value of money rising inside her. But then she changed her mind. She'd been watching Teri closely over the last few weeks and come to the conclusion that Polly's daughter wasn't quite what she pretended to be. In fact, she'd decided she didn't really like Teri very much. She was certain it had been Teri who decided to get Melissa all dressed up as D'Arcy for the costume party, and a fine mess that had turned out to be. And despite Teri's words of sympathy for Melissa, Cora had a distinct feeling that she was actually enjoying Melissa's unhappiness. "Fine," she said now. "Suit yourself. I'll be back within the hour."

A few minutes later, after she heard Cora's car grind down the drive, Teri got up and finally took off the dress, dropping it in a heap on the floor. Stripping off the rest of her clothes, she put on a bathing suit and wandered down to the swimming pool. She was about to dive into the cool water when she saw Tag.

He was standing twenty yards away from her, his head c.o.c.ked oddly, staring at something.

The pottingshed.

Teri froze for a moment, thinking quickly. Then, dropping her towel on one of the chairs that surrounded the pool, she crossed the lawn. "What's wrong?" she asked. "What are you staring at?"

Tag glanced at her, sniffing at the air. "Do you smell something?" he asked.

Teri inhaled, and a rancid odor filled her nostrils. "Yuck," she said. "Where's it coming from?"

"I think maybe it's the pottingshed," he said, moving forward. Teri fell in beside him, and together they approached the crumbling shed behind the garage. The closer they got, the worse the smell became. "Jesus," Tag said, wincing at the foul odor. "It smells like something died in-" He fell silent as he heard his own words. "Oh, G.o.d," he breathed softly. He hurried forward and pulled the door open, reflexively backing away from the cloud of flies that boiled out of the shed. But a moment later, holding his breath against the putrid odor, he stepped inside and glanced around. Except for a rusty shovel, the place was empty. But as he scanned the floor, he spied the loose boards. He let his breath out, then gagged as he took in a lungful of the fetid air that drifted up from beneath the floorboards. Coughing, he darted out of the potting-shed, took another lungful of the fresher air outside, and held his breath once more. Going back in, he reached down and lifted one of the loose floorboards.

His gorge rose as he gazed down into the s.p.a.ce below the floor. Blackie's body, bloated with rot and crawling with squirming white maggots, was barely recognizable, but despite the putrefaction, Tag knew instantly what it was. He recoiled from the sight of the corpse, his eyes moistening with tears. "It's Blackie-" he gasped, turning to Teri so quickly she didn't have time to erase the twisted smile that had come to her lips as she watched Tag discover his pet. His eyes widened as he saw the cruel smile, and he stepped back. "You!" he breathed. "I was right."

"Don't be stupid," Teri said, her smile vanishing as she fixed her eyes contemptuously on the boy. "Why would I want to kill your dog? Don't you see? Melissa must have done it!"

Tag shook his head. "She wouldn't have. She loved him even more than I did." His mind raced, and suddenly he remembered Sat.u.r.day night, when he'd gotten up late and looked out the window. He'd seen Teri, moving around in the house. A light had gone on in the attic, then gone out again, and a few minutes later come back on. Then it had gone out again, but after that he'd seen Teri moving back and forth between her room and the bathroom she shared with Melissa.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "What are you doing to Melissa?" But even as he spoke the words, he knew. "It was you," he breathed. "It was you she saw in the attic Sat.u.r.day night. And you killed Blackie, too."

As he took a step toward her, a look of pure hatred came into Teri's eyes and she hurled herself forward, shoving Tag backward. He staggered under the force of the shove, tripping on the steps that led to the pottingshed stoop. Flailing wildly, he tumbled over backward. He reached out with his left arm to break his fall, but his hand dropped through the s.p.a.ce that had been occupied by the missing floorboard and sunk deep into the moldering corpse below. He tried to roll over, his right hand searching for something to grab on to, but it was too late.

Teri, her eyes glazed over with hatred, seized the shovel that leaned against the shed's wall, grasped it with both hands, and raised it high.

A second later its blade flashed down, smashing into Tag's face.

He felt a searing stab of pain as the shovel's blade crushed his nose, and instinctively he tried to roll away from the next blow, but it was too late.

The shovel rose again, then smashed down on the back of his head. He twitched for a moment, then lay still.

Teri, breathing hard, stared at Tag's body for a moment, her mind already working. She hadn't really meant to kill him, she told herself. If he'd only accepted her story that Melissa had killed the dog, it would have been all right. But then he'd remembered Sat.u.r.day night and figured out what he'd seen.

So she'd had to kill him-he hadn't given her any choice.

Instinctively, she scanned the grounds beyond the potting-shed door, but saw no one. And why should she? Everyone would be at the Barnstables' except for Melissa and Cora.

Cora wouldn't be back for at least forty more minutes.

And Melissa was in her room, sound asleep.

Asleep.

As she repeated the word to herself, she knew what she was going to do.

She knelt down and gingerly touched Tag's neck. For a moment she felt nothing at all, but then a pulse beat weakly under her fingers.

He wasn't dead after all.

At least not yet.

She rolled him over and looked at his face. Blood was oozing from his smashed nose, and his eyes were closed. She could hear his breath now, an uneven rattling sound in his chest interspersed with coughing as his own blood threatened to choke him.

Leaving him where he was, she ran back to the house, hurrying up to the attic, where she took the old white dress out of the trunk in which she'd hidden it late on Sat.u.r.day night. Taking it with her, she went back outside, but instead of going back to the pottingshed, she went into the garage where the gardening tools were kept.

There, leaning against the wall, was the machete she'd seen Tag using to hack away the ivy on the north wall of the house. Smiling to herself, she picked it up.

Back in the pottingshed, she removed more of the floorboards and rolled Tag over once more, letting his unconscious body drop onto the decaying corpse of the dog. Then she gripped the machete, raising it high. Without so much as a second's hesitation, she brought the enormous blade down, feeling a slight shock as it struck Tag's skull, split it, then pierced through to the corruption below. Jerking the machete free, she hacked at Tag's body twice more, then finally put the machete aside.