In the Dark of the Night

Chapter 25

DAN BREWSTER LINGERED over his coffee, gazing out at the overcast sky and the dead-gray surface of the lake, both of which felt like an exact match of the mood that had hung over the house since he’d arrived on Saturday morning. Even though it had been only two days ago, it felt like at least a week.

A gray and overcast week.

And now there was a storm forecast for this morning, which he hoped wouldn’t actually occur when he and his family showed up at Ellis Langstrom’s funeral this afternoon.

He glanced at Eric, who was sitting to his right, reading the front page of the morning paper. As silent this morning as he’d been all weekend, Eric looked as if he hadn’t been sleeping much, and most of his breakfast was still untouched. “There anything you want to talk about?” Dan asked when Eric, sensing his father looking at him, finally glanced up from the paper. Dan thought he saw something flicker in Eric’s eyes for a fraction of a second, but then the boy shook his head and went back to studying the paper.

On the other side of the table, Merrill — still in her robe — was staring out at the gray morning, her chin in her hand, as silent as her son. In the strange quiet of the house, the sound of Marci’s fork on her plate as she finished her sausage seemed preternaturally loud, and he saw Merrill startle as the clock in the hall began to strike.

“Nine,” Dan said as the clock finished striking. “The funeral’s at eleven.” Merrill looked at him blankly, as if the words had no meaning. “The Langstrom boy,” he said softly. “Ellis.”

Merrill still looked as if she didn’t understand, but then comprehension slowly dawned in her eyes. “You’re not thinking of going, are you?” she asked. “We didn’t even know him.”

“Which makes no difference at all. The Newells and the Sparkses are going, and given—” Dan hesitated, his eyes flashing toward Eric, who was no longer looking at the paper but was now focused entirely on him. Marci, sensing that something might be about to happen, froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Given everything that’s happened,” he went on, unwilling to refer directly to the sheriff’s questioning of Eric, at least in front of Marci, “I think we have to make a good show of faith.” His eyes fixed on his wife. “Call it a matter of community.”

“I think Marci’s too young to go to a funeral,” Merrill said, carefully enough that Dan knew that she was looking for a way out for herself. He weighed the options, then nodded his agreement.

“I think you’re absolutely right about that,” he said, and saw relief come into his wife’s eyes.

Marci went back to her breakfast.

“And I’ll stay with her,” she said. “We need to finish making her costume for the parade, anyway.”

“Then it will be just you and me,” Dan said, turning to Eric. When his son opened his mouth as if to argue, Dan cut him off. “You’re certainly old enough to go,” he said, then shot a glance toward Marci that made it clear to Eric that his next words weren’t to be questioned. “And given all the circumstances, I think perhaps your absence might be conspicuous.”

Eric’s already pale face turned ashen, but he nodded. “Okay,” he breathed, knowing not only from his father’s words, but from the look on his face, that no argument he might muster was going to get him out of going to Ellis Langstrom’s funeral. But it wasn’t just the idea of going to the funeral that had sent a chill through his entire body and was now making him feel as if he might throw up.

That was caused by something else: the terrible certainty that had been slowly coalescing inside him that somehow, in some way he couldn’t quite comprehend, he and Kent and Tad were, indeed, responsible for what had happened to Ellis Langstrom.

MERRILL STOOD WITH Marci on the front porch and watched as Dan steered the Lexus down the driveway. As the car disappeared, the first drops of rain began to fall from the leaden sky, and even though the morning wasn’t particularly cold, Merrill wrapped her arms tightly around herself and felt suddenly, terribly, alone.

Not only were Dan and Eric gone, but so was everyone else.

Ellen and Jeff Newell had gone to the funeral, as had Ashley and Kevin Sparks, which meant that not only was the house next door empty, but so was the one beyond that. Even though both houses were completely hidden by the forest anyway, she still felt as if she and Marci had been stranded in a strange and frightening wilderness.

Stupid, she told herself. For once in your life, just stop being scared of everything. Determinedly ignoring the knot that was forming in her stomach, she resisted the impulse to double lock the door when she went back in, and even managed to keep from going through the house to pull the draperies closed. After all, it was only a couple of hours.

Surely she could be alone for a couple of hours.

Besides, they had a costume to finish. The dining room table was already covered with fabric and patterns, and cardboard and glue and all the glitter and paint that Marci had decided was absolutely essential to her Statue of Liberty costume. All that was missing, in fact, was the costume itself, which Marci had insisted on taking to her room every night so it could be protected from even the slightest disaster that might befall it.

Dear God, Merrill prayed silently. Don’t let her turn out to be the same kind of scaredy cat I am! Managing at least a small chuckle at her own silliness, she shook off enough of her fear of being alone in the house to steer Marci up the stairs. “Run up and put on your costume so we can do the final fitting, okay?”

Marci ran up the stairs as Merrill put on the teakettle to keep her hands — if not her mind — busy on something other than her isolation.

MARCI OPENED HER bedroom door, stripped off her shorts and T-shirt, and lifted the dress gently off the chair she’d laid it over last night so she could watch the moonlight make the silver material glitter in the darkness.

This, she was certain, was going to be the best costume on the float, and maybe even in the whole parade.

Careful to avoid being stuck by the pins still holding it together, she slid her arms inside the sheath and lifted it over her head. A moment later it fell gracefully to the floor, and Marci turned toward the mirror over the dresser to adjust the sleeves and the neck so it would drape over her just the way the robe did on the real statue.

A flicker of movement over her right shoulder caught her attention, and Marci spun around, her heart suddenly racing.

The room was empty.

The window!

That was it — she’d seen something through the window!

Clutching the silvery material in both hands and lifting it high enough so she wouldn’t trip over it, Marci went to the window and peered out. For a second or two she saw nothing but the rain streaking the glass.

Then, down on the lake, she saw it.

The man in the boat was there again. His hair was matted down by the rain, and so was his beard, but there was no mistaking who it was.

And he was sitting in his boat, right there in the lake, staring up at her.

As she watched in horror, his arm came up, and his hand stretched out as if…

As if he was reaching for her!

A scream welling up in her throat, Marci grabbed the front of the dress and ran.

• • •

MERRILL’S HEART CAUGHT when she heard Marci’s scream, and she ran for the stairs. But before she mounted even the first step Marci came flying down, the dress streaming, her face a mask of terror. Then she was in Merrill’s arms, clinging to her, sobbing hysterically.

“He’s out there again! He’s out there in the lake! And he was looking right at me, Mommy!”

Merrill hugged the little girl tight, smoothed her hair, and desperately tried to hold back the wave of panic that threatened to overwhelm her. Sweeping the crying child into her arms, Merrill lurched to the big living room windows and scanned the lake.

Nothing.

Nothing but rain falling softly on the terrace, the lawn, the trees, the water.

But no boat and no man.

“He was right over there,” Marci sobbed, pointing to the edge of the woods just beyond the carriage house.

“Well, he’s not there now,” Merrill said, gently rubbing her daughter’s back, trying to soothe her.

“But he saw me!” Marci wailed. “And he reached out like he was going to grab me!”

“It’s all right,” Merrill whispered, still trying to console her child even as her own heart continued to pound. “There’s no one there, sweetheart. No one at all.”

“But there was!” Marci insisted, sniffling. “There was, and he saw me, and I hate this place!”

Merrill silently agreed, and when Marci had finally settled down twenty minutes later — soothed by a cup of cocoa and a promise of cookies as soon as the costume was finished — she moved methodically through every room of the house, checking the locks on the windows and the doors and pulling the draperies tightly closed. When she was finished, she led her daughter back to the dining room to work on the costume, but Marci’s enthusiasm for the project had waned just as much as her own.

She looked at the clock.

Only an hour and thirty minutes to go until Dan came home.