Second Child Part 38

The memories-all of them, hers and D'Arcy's-began to fit together and take a logical shape.

At last, as tears flowed down her face-more of pity for the people who had died than for herself-she pressed the buzzer that would summon the night nurse.

Charles and Phyllis let themselves into the house, and Phyllis impulsively threw her arms around her husband and hugged him. "Wasn't it wonderful?" she asked. "How could it have been more perfect?"

It would have been perfect, Charles silently thought, if Melissa had been there. But for tonight he wouldn't mar Phyllis's joy with his own sadness. He would let her enjoy her moment of triumph, let her go on basking in the glow of her success. Time enough tomorrow for her to begin dealing with reality once again.

For he knew she'd been avoiding it, was all too aware of the excuses she was making to escape having to visit Melissa in the hospital.

But Melissa was still her daughter, and she still had a responsibility to her, no matter how distasteful that responsibility might be.

As if sensing his thoughts, Phyllis released him from her embrace, her happy smile fading away. "Couldn't you put her out of your mind even for one night?" she complained.

Charles shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I can't. It hurt so much not to have her with us tonight. She'd been looking forward to it for so long."

Phyllis sighed with impatience. "She doesn't even know she missed it, Charles. Dr. Andrews says-"

Charles held his hands up in a gesture that pleaded for peace. "Not tonight," he said. "I didn't even mean to bring it up. Now, why don't you go up and say h.e.l.lo to Teri. Her light's still on, and I can't believe she's gone to sleep yet. In fact, why don't you bring her downstairs? I'll fix us a nightcap, and she can have a c.o.ke or something."

Her momentary anger forgotten as quickly as it had welled up inside her, Phyllis hurried up the stairs. The moment she reached the landing, she knew something was wrong.

Something in the house didn't feel right.

"Charles?" she called. "Charles, come up here!"

Charles hurried up the stairs to find Phyllis staring at the floor. His own gaze following hers, he saw a trail of dark red staining the hardwood floor.

He frowned, following it to the open door to Teri's room.

With Phyllis following him, he hurried down the hall. "Teri? Teri, are you okay?"

The room was empty, but lying in the middle of the floor, a shapeless crumpled ma.s.s of brilliant green material, was the dress Teri had worn to the ball that night.

He stared at the dress uncomprehendingly, then quickly crossed to the bathroom.

It, too, was empty.

Leaving the bathroom, he strode out of the room and followed the trail of blood in the opposite direction.

Phyllis, her breath already coming in choking sobs, stumbled after him. At last they came to the base of the attic stairs.

That door, too, was open. Charles, with Phyllis clutching at his arm, stared up into the darkness above. At last, taking a deep breath, he started up the stairs, but Phyllis's hand tightened on his arm.

"N-No," she whispered. "I-I don't want to."

Charles's voice rasped through his clenched jaw. "We have to," he said. "If she's up there..."

He left the sentence incomplete, hanging in the air, and once more started up the flight to the attic.

He came to the top, his hand grasping his wife's, almost pulling her along behind him. Then, when she was standing beside him on the landing, he reached into the dark cavern of the attic and switched on the light.

They both saw it at the same time.

Fifteen feet away, Teri, clad in the bloodstained white dress that Melissa had worn the day she'd led the police to Tag Peterson's butchered corpse, was hanging from one of the rafters, a thick rope knotted tightly around her neck.

The dress itself glistened redly in the harsh light of the naked bulb. There was a pool of blood beneath Teri's feet.

Her left arm, ending in a stump that was still dripping fresh blood, hung at her side. On the floor, directly below Teri's lifeless form, gleamed the blade of a meat cleaver.

Phyllis stared at Teri's contorted face, the eyes bulging outward to gaze at her accusingly, a grimacing smile of death twisting her lips. Then, screaming once, she collapsed to the floor, sobs racking her body.

Charles, stunned for a moment by the grisly sight, felt his gorge rise inside him, but then seized control of his roiling emotions. Turning away, he bolted down the stairs and ran to the master suite and the telephone on the bedside table. Grabbing the phone with one hand and turning on the light with the other, he started to dial the emergency number.

And froze.

The phone dropped back onto its cradle as his eyes fixed numbly on the object on his pillow.

It was Teri's severed hand. In its blood-soaked fingers was clutched a string of pearls.

The pearls, he slowly realized, she'd sworn she never received.

He was still staring at them a moment later, trying to absorb what they meant, when the phone jangled loudly at his side.

He wanted to ignore it, to shut the insistent buzz out of his mind while he tried to comprehend everything he'd seen in the last minutes.

But the phone kept ringing, and finally he picked it up.

"H-h.e.l.lo?" he asked, his voice shaking so badly it was barely intelligible. There was a momentary silence, and then a voice, a whispered voice almost as shaky as his own, spoke from the other end.

"P-Papa? This is Melissa."

EPILOGUE.

Melissa felt a shiver run through her, but wasn't certain whether it had been brought on by fear or antic.i.p.ation. Though she said nothing at all, Charles Holloway sensed his daughter's sudden unease and glanced over at her from his position behind the wheel of the Mercedes. "It's not too late to change your mind, honey. There's no reason we have to do this at all."

Melissa shook her head. "There are all kinds of reasons, Papa," she said. "We can't just pretend nothing ever happened here."

It had been five years since either of them had been back in Secret Cove, and when she'd first suggested to her father that they go to the August Moon Ball this year, his reaction had been a flat-out refusal.

"I can't imagine why you'd want to go, nor can I imagine anything in the world that would make me go," he'd told her. But she'd just grinned knowingly at him.

"How about if I asked you?"

And so they were here. Cora had stayed in New York, shaking her head dolefully when they'd told her where they were going. "Not me," she'd said. "If you two want to go stir up all those memories, I don't suppose I can stop you. But I've had my share of grief, and it's all tied up with that place." Her old eyes had fixed on Charles. "And that place never brought you much happiness, either."

But Melissa had been adamant. "I want to see it," she'd insisted, trying to find the right words to explain her feelings about both Secret Cove and herself. "I don't want to live at Maplecrest again-I don't think I even want to spend a night there. But I want to know that I can can go there. I hid from too much for too long. I don't want to hide from anything anymore. And," she added, "believe it or not, I still want to go to the August Moon Ball. So you have to go with me, because you promised to dance the first and last dances with me, remember?" go there. I hid from too much for too long. I don't want to hide from anything anymore. And," she added, "believe it or not, I still want to go to the August Moon Ball. So you have to go with me, because you promised to dance the first and last dances with me, remember?"

And so here they were, pulling into the village for the first time since that terrible summer five years earlier.

Now Charles lifted his right eyebrow a fraction of an inch. "We both managed to pretend nothing was happening for years," he observed. "So why not go on?"

Melissa reached out to squeeze her father's hand affectionately. "If you don't want to go, you don't have to," she said. "I can drop you off in the village and go by myself. I'll look at the house, and go to the ball, and you can sit in a bar and drown your troubles in booze."

Charles put on an exaggeratedly aggrieved expression. "I never did that, and you know it."

"Well, you had a right to," Melissa replied. "How you could have stayed married to Mother all those years-" She cut her words short. They'd gone through that too many times to bring it up again. The subject of her mother was still painful enough for both of them that they rarely mentioned her anymore.

Now, as they pa.s.sed through the village, Melissa gazed curiously around. "It never changes, does it?" she asked.

Charles shook his head. "That's always been its appeal. Something to count on in a changing world."

Five minutes later they pulled up in front of Maplecrest, but neither of them made any move to get out of the car. Instead they simply sat silently staring at the house in which both of them had spent every summer of their lives until five years ago. But unlike the village, Maplecrest had changed.

It had the look of abandonment peculiar to all unused houses, a look that went beyond peeling paint and unkempt grounds. There was a lonely aura to the structure, as if it was consciously aware that no one wanted to live in it anymore. At last they got out of the car and let themselves into the house itself. They wandered silently through the stuffy rooms whose furnishings had long ago been covered with sheets, each of them preoccupied with their own memories. At last Melissa went upstairs to the room that had been her own.

But it was hers no longer. The furniture Teri had chosen was still there, and nothing about the room seemed familiar to Melissa. And that, she decided, was just as well. If she ever came back to Maplecrest again, at least this room wouldn't haunt her, wouldn't bring the past too close for her to deal with.

The things of her childhood were gone, stored away somewhere in the attic, she knew. Perhaps some other time she would return again and go through them. But not today.

Today it was enough to know she could walk into the house without a sense of fear and foreboding.

The memories were there, but the past was dead and buried.

At eight-thirty that evening Charles pulled the Mercedes up in front of the Cove Club, hurrying around to the other side to help Melissa from the car. In the lobby several people were gathered in front of the open doors to the dining room, talking quietly among themselves. A silence fell over them as they recognized Charles and Melissa Holloway.

Charles had changed little over the past five years-his hair had grayed at the temples, and permanent creases were etched into his forehead.

Melissa, however, had grown up in the years since these people had seen her last.

She was as tall as her father now, and her figure was slim and elegant, the puppy fat of her childhood long gone. Her face had an enigmatic beauty to it, with high cheekbones and a jaw that was wide and strong. But it was her eyes that people always remarked upon. Large and dark brown, they sparkled with curiosity and good nature, yet there was a depth and wisdom to them that was far beyond her years.

Tonight, clad in a deep red dress that complemented her coloring perfectly and accentuated her figure to its best advantage, she could feel people staring at her.

Staring at her, but not laughing at her.

She felt her father's hand tighten on her arm. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice so low that only she could hear it.

She smiled at him. "I'm fine," she said.

An hour later she knew she truly was was fine. The first few minutes after she and her father had entered the ballroom and the silence they had expected had indeed fallen over the crowd, she had felt a few misgivings. But, determined not to back away from the ma.s.s of surprised faces, she had moved forward, her hand extended, smiling warmly. And it had been all right. fine. The first few minutes after she and her father had entered the ballroom and the silence they had expected had indeed fallen over the crowd, she had felt a few misgivings. But, determined not to back away from the ma.s.s of surprised faces, she had moved forward, her hand extended, smiling warmly. And it had been all right.

Now, as the first strains of a slow waltz began, she felt a presence behind her and turned to see Brett Van Arsdale, even handsomer in his twenty-first year than he'd been when she'd last seen him. He was smiling at her uncertainly, and when he spoke, there was a slight tremor to his voice. He feels the way I used to feel, she thought. He doesn't know if I'm even going to speak to him. But as he almost shyly asked her to dance with him, she nodded immediately and slipped gracefully into his arms. He moved her into the crowd and for a few minutes said nothing at all. Finally, he pulled away from her slightly, just enough so his eyes could meet hers.

"I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am," he said, his voice trembling once more. "I mean, it's not just me-everyone feels terrible about the way we used to treat you. I know it's too late to make it up to you, but-"

Melissa pressed a finger against his lips. "It's not too late," she said. "And I know how everyone feels. I've seen it in everyone's eyes all evening. But we don't need to talk about it, Brett. The past is the past, and all the ghosts are gone."

Brett was silent for a moment, but then his head c.o.c.ked. "Would you tell me something?" he asked.

Melissa smiled mischievously. "Maybe. What is it?"

Brett hesitated, then finally spoke the words that had been in his mind for five long years. "It's about D'Arcy. Do you think...well, do you think she was real?"

Now it was Melissa who was silent for a long time. At last she nodded. "For me she was. She was part of me. And in the end, I think she was real for Teri, too."

Brett frowned. "But Teri killed herself."

"Maybe she did," Melissa said, her voice solemn. "But maybe she didn't. Maybe D'Arcy killed her."

They danced on, letting the strains of music envelop them, and then, as they slowly walked off the floor when the dance was over, Brett asked one more question. "What about your mother?" he asked. "What happened to her?"

Melissa felt a slight chill come over her for a moment, but quickly shook it off. "I don't know," she said, her voice firm. "And I really don't want to know, either." And it was true. Finally, tonight, the last of the past was truly behind her.

Three thousand miles away, in a mansion high in the hills west of Los Angeles, Phyllis Holloway sat nervously on the edge of a chair, watching the young woman who was even now reading over the last of her references. As the woman looked up, smiling, Phyllis breathed a silent sigh of relief. It was going to be all right.

"Well, everyone certainly seems to be happy with your work, Mrs. Holloway," she said. "And I think you're exactly what we're looking for. Shall we go upstairs and introduce you to our baby?"

Phyllis's heart fluttered with antic.i.p.ation. From the moment two hours ago when she'd first walked into this house, it had felt right. Large and airy, it occupied two full acres on the very crest of the hills, with a panoramic view of Los Angeles on one side and the San Fernando Valley on the other. There was an Olympic-size swimming pool and a pair of tennis courts, along with perfectly tended formal gardens that reminded her of home.

Home.

Except that Secret Cove and Maplecrest weren't home anymore, would never be home again. Indeed, she'd had to promise never to return to the East Coast at all, in exchange for Charles's agreement not to prosecute her for child abuse.

As if she'd abused Melissa! Just the thought of it was still enough to make her blood boil.

All she'd ever ever tried to do was teach Melissa proper behavior. And what had she gotten in return? Not a trace of the grat.i.tude to which she was ent.i.tled. Far from it-she'd been dismissed from the house as if she were no more than a servant, divorced with a settlement that hadn't been enough to support her for more than a year, and forbidden ever to see Melissa again. tried to do was teach Melissa proper behavior. And what had she gotten in return? Not a trace of the grat.i.tude to which she was ent.i.tled. Far from it-she'd been dismissed from the house as if she were no more than a servant, divorced with a settlement that hadn't been enough to support her for more than a year, and forbidden ever to see Melissa again.

But she was a survivor, and this job, with a middle-aged lawyer and his young wife, was perfect.

She would have her own suite of rooms on the second floor, right next to the nursery, and live here as a member of the family.

And eventually, when the marriage inevitably failed...

She put the thought out of her mind as the woman-what was her name? Emily!-as Emily opened the door to the nursery. A soft gurgling sound emerged from the crib that stood next to the open window, and Phyllis strode across the room, crouching down to look at the baby about to be entrusted to her care.

A pair of dark brown eyes, large and serious, stared up at her from the crib. The tiny face was almost perfectly round, but with a deep dimple in the center of its chin. "Well, aren't you just the most precious thing I've ever seen," Phyllis crooned. She lifted the infant out of the crib, cuddling it close.

Almost instantly, the child began to cry, and Emily hurried across the room to take it from Phyllis. But Phyllis turned away and shook her head. "No, no-she's got to get used to someone besides her mother holding her. And it doesn't hurt a baby to cry now and then, you know. It's perfectly natural." Her eyes shifted back to the sobbing infant in her arms, and she snuggled it closer. "But you'll be all right, won't you? You're going to love me as much as I love you, and pretty soon, you'll be just like my own child."

The baby kept crying for a moment, and then, as if sensing some sort of unseen danger, turned silent. But its eyes, wary now, remained fixed on Phyllis.

Phyllis smiled rea.s.suringly at the nervous young mother who was still hovering a couple of feet away. "You see?" she asked. "It's going to be fine, and you aren't going to have to worry about a thing. I'll treat her just as if she were my own." She was silent for a second or two, then spoke once more, barely audibly, almost to herself. "Yes," she said. "I'll treat her just as if she were my second child."