Ghost Light (20 page)

“Is everything all right?” he asked. His voice had just an edge of tension to it, which he tried bravely to mask.

“Yes—yes, of course everything’s just fine,” she snapped.

“That wasn’t my father or the police or anything, was it?”

“No! Jesus Christ, I told you—”

Her face flushed bright red as she gripped her fists and shook them with pent-up frustration. Then she caught herself and, mentally chastising herself for losing her patience with him, commanded herself to calm down. It wasn’t fair to scare the children like this. She had to be the adult in this situation; she had to remain in control.

“No, honest-to-God, Billy, it was just a telephone salesman,” she said, lowering her voice and trying at least to look relaxed. “He was just trying to hook me with a dumb sales gimmick. God, it irritates me, the way they do that! Come on, don’t think anything about it, okay?”

Still looking mildly perplexed, Billy nodded and turned back to his game.

Still, though, no matter what she advised Billy, Cindy couldn’t stop the twisting rushes of fear that were gripping her. Every time she glanced at the window, she more than half expected to see a grinning, leering face, staring in at her; and every time she glanced down the hallway, she expected to see something… She had no idea what—maybe a shambling, dark figure that was reaching out to grab her.

Jesus Christ, what’s the hell’s gotten into me?
she thought frantically.
Why am I so damn jumpy?

Still pacing back and forth, she released her fists and shook her hands in an attempt to get the circulation going again. She tried to inhale slowly and evenly, but her breath still hitched maddeningly in her chest, making it ache. Reaching behind her head, she pressed her hands against the back of her neck and rotated her head while she massaged the top of her spine.

“I… I guess I’ll take my shower now,” she said, her voice a fragile whisper. “You kids’ll be all right for a while, huh?”

“ ’Course we will,” Billy said, even though there was still a look of mild confusion in his eyes.

Krissy was too involved with her game to respond, so after checking to make sure the apartment door was locked, Cindy went down the hallway to the bathroom, undressed, and stepped into the shower.

The blast of warm water helped relax her a little, but as she shampooed her hair and lathered up, her mind kept turning over so many questions… questions to which she had no answers. By the time she was out of the shower and drying off, she had decided that it might not be such a bad idea if she went over and visited with Alice for a while. She still had no idea what had initially upset her so badly, whether it was the conversation with the encyclopedia salesman or something else eating away at her nerves, but she had reached one conclusion: she needed someone to talk to, someone to listen to her; and she decided that she would take the risk of telling Alice Crowther exactly what her situation was, if only so she could have a sympathetic listener she could trust.

3

“D
irectory assistance. What city please?”

“Yes, uh—in Portland, I need the telephone number for a Cindy—I mean, Cynthia Toland.”

“Just a minute, and I’ll check that for you, sir. Is that Toland with a ‘D’?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

“Umm, no, sir. I’m sorry, but I don’t seem to have a number listed for a person by that name. I have a Ronald and Sarah Toland, in Cape Elizabeth.”

“No, that’s not it. I think this would be a new listing, probably only a few weeks old.”

“Just a moment, and I’ll check the new listings for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes sir, there is a number listed for her, but I’m afraid it’s classified as unpublished at the owner’s request.”

“Oh, you mean you can’t give it to me?”

“No sir, I’m sorry. I can’t give out any information on that.”

“Even if I told you this was a family emergency?”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Well—uh, look, I realize this is a bit unusual, but I really need to contact Mrs. Toland. It’s a matter of extreme urgency.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but our policy is not to give out any unlisted telephone numbers. I’m sure you can understand that we can’t invade that person’s right to privacy.”

“Oh—oh. Hey, look at this. I just found a note here in my briefcase that has her phone number. It ends with 3171, right?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t verify that for you.”

“Listen, this is
very
important. I know those are the last four digits of the number, so could you at least give me her street address?”

“I told you—”

“Believe me, this person I’m trying to reach is in a very serious situation. I’m a lawyer, representing the execution of her uncle’s will. All I want to do is—”

“Unless this is a police emergency, I can’t do anything for you. I can connect you with a service representative if you’d like, but if you already have the number, why not try calling her yourself.”

“No, there’s a … I found a note attached to it from my secretary, saying that she has tried this number several times a day for the last week or two, and hasn’t gotten an answer. Look, I don’t have much time left.”

“Well, if you choose not to speak to a service rep, there’s really nothing I can do for you unless you want to get the police involved in this.”

“No, no, it’s not serious like that, but there’s a you see, there’s a financial situation that has come up, and I really have to get in touch with this person. She has been left some money—a very sizable amount of inheritance money from her uncle’s estate, and it’s frustrating that there appears to be no way I can get in touch with her.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but we are unable to release any information regarding unlisted telephone numbers. It’s that simple. The only thing I can do is turn you over to a service representative.”

“But this is a family emergency, don’t you see? All I have is this person’s name. I
have
to get in contact with her as soon as possible. Her absence is holding up the resolution of this matter. Are you sure you can’t—well, you know, bend the rules a little… just this one time?”

“Absolutely not, sir.”

“But this person stands to inherit better than one million dollars, that’s
if
I can get in touch with her within the next few days. Time’s running out, and I don’t have the time to go through a bunch of bureaucratic red tape!”

“I’m sorry, sir, but short of a court order to release this information, I can’t do a blessed thing for you. Believe me, I would if I could, but that’s—”

“Yeah, well then
fuck
you!”

“Thank you for calling… and have a nice day.”

4

A
fter making sure the kids were settled in bed, Cindy left the apartment door open and went over to Alice’s apartment. They sat side by side on the couch in Alice’s living room and, over the course of two hours and several glasses of red wine, she unloaded everything on Alice—her conviction that Debbie had been murdered by her husband, her worries that she still hadn’t heard from her husband and what it could mean, and her fears for the safety of the children, especially from their abusive father, whom she was convinced still wanted to get them away from her.

Alice, for her part, listened intently, adding little and letting Cindy say anything she needed to say and cry whenever the emotions raging inside her got too intense. They cried and hugged, and Cindy found herself expressing some of her deepest, darkest thoughts. Sometime before midnight, feeling emotionally and physically drained, she got up to leave.

“I—you just can’t believe how good it feels to… you know, to get all this stuff out in the open like this,” she said.

Her body was shaking, and she almost couldn’t stand. Her eyes were burning from crying so much over the past two hours, but she wiped her cheeks and forced a wide smile.

“Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?” Alice said softly. She took a step closer and placed her hand gently on Cindy’s shoulder, giving her a bracing squeeze.

“No, I know… it’s just been such a… such a burden, carrying it around, all bottled up inside myself, you know?” Cindy said. She sighed heavily and, covering Alice’s hand with hers, returned her affectionate squeeze. “Thanks for listening.”

Alice smiled and said, “Hey, who knows? Maybe someday I’ll come knocking on your door, asking you to listen to me while I unload.”

“Believe me, I will,” Cindy said, but even as she said it, she realized with an aching touch of sadness that chances were she never would; it might be a matter of weeks or maybe only days before she and the kids had to up and move again. She knew she was leaving an obvious trail behind her. All her life, she had been a law-abiding citizen, so she had no idea how to “disappear.” It wouldn’t take much determined effort on the part of the police or FBI to find her. It was just a matter of time before
someone
found her.

“You just take care of yourself, now, you hear?” Alice said.

Cindy nodded.

“And any time you want to talk—I don’t give a damn
what
time it is, you know my door is always open, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Cindy said, looking down at the floor.

“I said,
right
?”

“Yeah,” Cindy replied, nodding. “Right.”

She turned away, wanting desperately to avoid eye contact with Alice because she knew, the instant she looked into her eyes, she would break down all over again. Biting her lower lip and keeping her head bowed, she started for the door.

“Hey, I really mean it,” Alice said.

Cindy chanced a quick glance at her and saw her new friend’s smile had blended into a hard, serious line.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a deep breath and holding it a moment. “Thanks a lot for… just for listening.”

“It’s important, sometimes,
just
to listen,” Alice said, smiling gently as she waved before Cindy left, closing the door gently behind her.

But Cindy didn’t feel very much better. As she walked the short distance across the hall to her own apartment and went inside, the sense of impending doom that filled her was almost overwhelming. Her breath came in high, short gasps, and a cold sweat slicked her back as she eased the door shut behind her and locked it. The apartment was dark except for the faint, lemon glow of the night light they kept on in the bathroom at the end of the hall. Cindy felt for the wall switch until she found it and flipped it up, but the overhead light didn’t come on.

“Shit!” she muttered, flicking the switch rapidly up and down several more times. “The damned bulb must be burned out.”

Stretching her hands out in front of her and feeling her way with her foot, she made it through the darkened living room over to the table light beside the couch. After a few tense moments of fumbling around blindly for the switch, she found it and turned it on. The sudden blast of light stung her eyes, making her feel all the more like all she wanted to do—all she was capable of doing—was to cry some more. It
had
truly been a relief to tell Alice everything, and she appreciated the open, honest friendship of this woman she barely knew; but still, she realized that nothing had changed substantially. Regardless of the circumstances, she was still a kidnapper who was no doubt wanted by the FBI by now.

She considered having another glass of wine alone before heading off to bed, but her head was spinning enough, and she didn’t want to have to deal with a hangover in the morning, so she turned the light off and started down the hallway to her bedroom. As she passed Krissy’s bedroom on the right, she eased the door open and peeked inside. A wash of blue light from the streetlight outside was cut into parallel bands by the Levelor blinds. It made a zebra pattern on the foot of Krissy’s bed, and she could see the dark lump of the little girl, tucked underneath the covers, right where she had left her. Cindy cocked her head to one side and, holding her breath, waited, listening for the faint rustle of the sleeping girl’s breath. For a second or two, when she didn’t hear it, a mild jolt of tension went through her, but then, just at the edge of hearing, there was a long, slow hissing of breath, in and out… in and out.

“Sleep well, little darlin’,” Cindy whispered before shutting the door quietly.

She turned and had just started down the hallway when she noticed a wash of blue light coming from underneath the bottom edge of Billy’s bedroom door. It angled across the carpet, raising the cloth texture into sharp, detailed relief.

What the hell, is he still awake in there?
she wondered, halting in her tracks outside the door.

As she stared at the glow of light, it seemed almost to pulsate, getting stronger as it shifted slowly to the left.

Sharp angles of light swept across the floor, making shadows stretch out like long, black spikes. Even the tiniest bulge in the carpet showed. After a moment, the shadows began to swing back the other way as the light moved to the right.

Cindy’s first impression was that a light bulb was moving slowly back and forth, swinging on the end of a long wire, but she knew Billy didn’t have anything like that in his room. There was just the overhead light and the small desk lamp he kept by his bed. She watched, concerned as the light moved back and forth, gradually picking up speed. For a panicky instant, the light shifting down by her feet made it look as though the floor was no longer substantial. The sensation was dizzying, almost nauseating. She shook her head and had to grab at the wall to help her maintain her balance, but her gaze was fixed on the black lines of shadow as they swayed back and forth from underneath the edge of Billy’s door.