Ghost Light (30 page)

Paranoia

“C
om’on, I’m gonna be late for school if I don’t get going,” Billy said.

There was a high whine in his voice that irritated Cindy as she looked at him, sitting across from her at the kitchen table. She stared steadily at him, her mouth set in a hard, tight line. A wash of bright sunlight poured in through the small window above the sink and glinted like white fire off the chrome, hurting her eyes.

“I don’t care if you’re late,” she said in a steady, controlled voice. She averted her head and shielded her eyes, but red flashing afterimages were cutting across her vision and she could feel the beginnings of a headache. “You can ride with me when I take Krissy to school, after we have a little talk. I need a few answers from you, young man.”

“But the guys are expecting me,” Billy said, shifting nervously, in his chair and glancing longingly over his shoulder at the doorway. He had already finished breakfast and brushed his teeth, and was sitting there with his jacket on and his backpack slung over one shoulder. Both legs were jiggling rapidly up and down as though he were running in place.

“We have to talk first,” Cindy said through clenched teeth. “There are a few things I want explained.”

Billy looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Yeah? Like what?”

Taking a deep breath, Cindy sat back in her chair and wrung her hands in her lap as her mind filled with a cascade of what she could say. She knew she had to be careful with him; being accusatory surely wasn’t the way to go. Plus, she didn’t want to upset Krissy, who was sitting silently at the other end table, apparently having a staring contest with her empty cereal bowl. For a moment, Cindy cupped her chin with one hand and ran her teeth over her forefinger.

“Well, for one thing,” she said, “I want you to admit it if
you’re
the practical joker who’s been messing things up around here.”

Billy stared back at her and shook his head, looking all innocence. “I haven’t done anything!”

“Well…” Cindy said, letting her voice drag a little. “I’ve been finding all sorts of things that have been screwed up. The toothpaste tube has a slice in it. Someone broke off the TV switch—”

“Hey, I didn’t do that,” Billy protested, holding up his hands and shaking his head. “It came off when I was trying to turn it on. Why would I break something like that? I was the one who wanted to play Nintendo last night.”

“How about the salt and sugar switch, then?” Cindy said, leaning forward and giving him a harsh stare in spite of the reflecting sunlight that hurt her eyes. “That was certainly no accident. Did you pick up that little practical joke at school?”

Again, Billy shook his head vigorously, then turned and looked anxiously at the door. “I didn’t do that, either. Honest,” he said.

“Well, I certainly know
I
didn’t do it, and I can’t believe Krissy would think up with something like that.” She glanced over at Krissy, who didn’t even bother to look up when her name was mentioned. “So as far as I can see, that pretty much leaves you.”

Cindy took another, deeper breath, fighting hard to control her rising temper.

Is it really anger
, she wondered,
or is it fear?

The way things had gone around here last night and again this morning, it was almost bordering on the ludicrous. Doorknobs had flown off doors; one of the couch legs had snapped the instant Krissy had jumped onto the couch; the towel rack in the kitchen had fallen off with a clang; and the hot water wouldn’t turn on in the bathroom, no matter how hard Cindy twisted the faucet. It seemed as though the warranty on practically
everything
had expired overnight, and the apartment was falling apart all around them.

“Well, then,” she said, still struggling to control her anger, “what about that hole in the wall, out in the hallway? Are you
sure
you didn’t do that, maybe last night when I sent you to your room because you were so mad that you couldn’t play Nintendo?”

Billy shrugged as though he were the innocent victim of a frame-up. “You have to believe me, Aunt Cindy, I didn’t do that… at least, not that I
remember
.”

“Uh-huh,” Cindy said, nodding her head suspiciously and stroking her chin. “Well, I don’t remember doing it, either, and Krissy says
she
didn’t do it, so tell me—who did?”

“I dunno,” Billy said. He shrugged, then sat back, slouching his shoulders, apparently giving up on the idea of meeting his friends to walk to school. “Maybe that hole’s been there ever since we moved in, and we just never noticed it before.

“Oh, you mean like the split wood in the door frame?” Cindy asked archly. The longer this discussion went on, the more it wore on her nerves. It took a great effort not to let her emotions fly wild, but again, she wondered if she wasn’t overreacting because of something else.

Billy shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, looking genuinely bewildered. “Honest to God, Aunt Cindy. I don’t know a thing about
any
of this stuff.”

Exasperated, Cindy slouched back in her chair and exhaled noisily as she closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Either Billy was telling the truth, or else he was one hell of a smooth pathological liar. Flaming afterimages of the reflecting sunlight still zigzagged across her vision like trailing fireworks, and behind her eyes a headache was building up like a slow-moving thunderstorm, crowding over the horizon.

“Look, if it wasn’t you, then who was it? Did you have some friends over without my knowing about it?”

Billy shook his head in firm denial.

Her next question was:
If it wasn’t you or your friends, then who was it?
but she kept silent as she sat and just studied Billy’s face for a few intense moments. With a deep shudder, she suddenly realized just how much Billy looked like his father, the man who, in cold blood, had murdered his wife—Cindy’s sister, and Billy and Krissy’s mother. A numbing chill knifed through her and spread up to the back of her neck. She waved her hand at the door, shooing him. Her voice almost broke when she said, “Go on. Get going. I’ll bet, if you hurry, you can catch up with your friends.”

Billy hesitated a moment.

“I said get going.”

In a flash, he was up out of the chair and running, his footsteps shaking the floor as he zipped through the living room and out the front door. He slammed the door so hard behind him that Cindy thought it was no wonder the door frame had a split in it. Sighing, she leaned back, yawning as she stretched her arms up over her head. The headache was still gathering strength, but she smiled at Krissy.

“Well, Squirt,” she said. “What do you say we brush your hair and get going so you won’t be late for school, huh?”

She was surprised when Krissy didn’t move or say a word. Looking like a condemned victim waiting for the executioner’s axe to drop, she just sat there with her head bowed and her hands folded tightly in her lap.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”

Krissy shook her head slightly and sniffed, keeping her face averted.

“Are you feeling all right?”

Moving as stiffly as a marionette, Krissy raised her head and looked sidelong at her aunt. Her face was pale, and her thin lower lip was trembling. A distant glaze filmed her eyes as if she were about to cry. In an instant, Cindy was up out of her chair and kneeling beside the little girl, her hands resting gently, reassuringly on her shoulders.

“Hey, come on, Squirt,” Cindy said, pulling at her gently, trying to nudge her into a hug. “If there’s something the matter, you know you can tell me about it.”

“Uh-huh,” Krissy said.

“Well then…?”

“It’s just—” Her voice caught in her throat, choking her off.

Cindy waited expectantly for Krissy to say something more, but she thought she already knew what was bothering her; it was the same thing that still got to Cindy from time to time, filling her with a cold, aching sense of loneliness, loss, and dread.

She still misses her mother
, Cindy thought as something cold stabbed right through her heart.
And God—who can blame her?

At Cindy’s persistent urging, Krissy finally made reluctant eye contact with her. It frightened Cindy to see how closed off she looked. The only real struggle seemed to be to keep all the hurtful feelings bottled up inside her, as if she were thinking,
maybe they wouldn’t hurt me if I don’t let them out.

“I’ll bet you’re still feeling sad… you know, about what… what happened, aren’t you?” Cindy said in a low, comforting voice.

Krissy nodded agreement, but her expression suddenly shifted, hardening as she looked up and focused on Cindy’s face. Her throat made a strange, gasping sound when she opened her mouth to speak.

“But it … it’s not just that,” she said in a low, trembling whisper. “It—it’s something else.”

“What, then?” Cindy asked sharply, feeling suddenly fearful.

She thought maybe Krissy was upset by the way she had grilled her brother, so she wasn’t quite sure she heard correctly when Krissy said, “I dunno… I was wondering if—maybe—it was that man in the white van who did it.”

“A man—? Did what? What white van? What the heck are you talking about, honey?”

“The person who got into the apartment and messed around with our stuff.” Krissy suddenly stopped and gave her aunt a piercing, questioning look. “What, you mean you haven’t seen him?” she asked.

“No, I—I haven’t seen
anybody
. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cindy said, but she couldn’t deny the chill that lanced through her. Trying to keep the edge of growing hysteria out of her voice, she said, “Tell me what you mean, Krissy.”

“That man in the white van.” Krissy cringed as she repeated herself. “I’ve seen him parked outside on the street, in front of the apartment lots of times.”

“Really?”

Krissy nodded. “Uh-huh. And do you remember two days ago?”

“Do you mean when I didn’t get to school in time to pick you up?”

Krissy nodded again, her face tight with tension, but she didn’t say anything as she bit down hard enough on her lower lip to make it go bloodless.

“Yeah… What about it?” Cindy said, still trying to keep the demanding edge out of her voice. The tension winding up inside her was almost unbearable.

“Well, he was there,” Krissy said in a deep, quavering voice.

“Who? Do you mean the man in the white van?”

“Yeah,” Krissy replied. “He tried to follow me when I was walking home, but then she… she helped me out.”

“
Who
did?” Cindy almost shouted. “Who helped you out?”

“The… the blue lady,” Krissy replied, barely above a whisper.

“The blue lady,” Cindy echoed.

“Uh-huh.” Krissy said, nodding vigorously. “See, I was pretty sure I knew the way home, but then she showed up and told me which way to go.”

“You mean she spoke to you?”

Krissy shook her head. “No, no, but she pointed the way for me to go, down a different road than the one I thought I should take, and when I did, I saw him drive by… in his white van.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. He was going real slow, like he was looking for someone.”

“Did he stop? Did he see you?”

“No, I hid behind a tree and then cut through some yards to keep away from him.”

“That was a smart thing to do, but how do you know he was looking for you?”

Krissy shrugged tightly. “Because she wouldn’t have been there unless I needed help.”

Cindy’s legs were starting to go numb from kneeling down for so long, so she straightened up to get the circulation going again.

“This isn’t just something you’re making up, now, is it?” she asked.

Biting her lower lip, Krissy shook her head in vigorous denial and shrank away from her aunt as though she feared she was about to strike her. Her eyes twitched nervously back and forth as though she expected to see someone else in the kitchen with them. Her thin chest rose and fell rapidly as she panted, trying to get enough air into her lungs to continue speaking.

“No, I—I saw him… well, not him, really, ’cause his van has dark windows, but I saw his van, and it was the same one I saw parked outside the school one day last week. Remember that rainy day when you picked me up?”

Cindy nodded, although her memory wasn’t all that clear.

“She was pointing at a car in front of the school, like she wanted me to see it. And then—well, for a whole bunch of nights, now, she woke me up and has shown me where he’s parked out there on the street in front of our apartment.”

“Well… I don’t know,” Cindy said. She spoke slowly, trying to keep at bay the rushing currents of fear that were rising up inside her. “Maybe he—he’s just a… he probably lives in one of the apartments nearby.”

But her words didn’t even begin to reassure herself, much less Krissy. The dark, gnawing worry had blossomed full strength in her mind. She couldn’t forget or ignore the dozens—no, hundreds, maybe thousands of times she had been convinced there was someone lurking nearby, keeping a close watch on them but staying just out of sight. She had never seen anyone or anything suspicious, but for weeks now, she had definitely felt a presence. All along she had been trying to convince herself that it was just her paranoia, her near-constant worry that the authorities would eventually nail her for kidnapping the kids.