The Drifter (19 page)

“You mean they didn't believe her?” Carolyn stared at him.

“Carolyn!” Andy stepped back, equally amazed. “Are you nuts? Who in their right mind would believe Molly? Her whole life consists of either sleeping or hallucinating! She doesn't even know the difference anymore between what's real and what's not!”

“But—” Carolyn floundered for words, for arguments. “Andy, she seemed so
sure!
I mean—”

“Sure. Uh-huh. About a ghost.”

“But maybe
not
a ghost! Maybe what she
thought
was a ghost was a real person! And he had something to do with Hazel's death!”

Andy sighed. “Don't you think if Molly had any credibility at all, the sheriff would have thought of that already?”

“But, Andy—”

“Okay, can we talk about it in the car? I've got a really full day tomorrow, and
you
need to get some rest.”

They'd started walking, but now Carolyn stopped and blocked his way.

Andy stopped, too, and groaned. “Now what?”

“Molly saw me talking with Joss today in front of the library—”

“Yeah? So?”

“She
recognized
him.”

“What do you mean, she recognized him? Molly wouldn't recognize herself in a three-way mirror—”

“She said
he
was the one with Hazel that night. Except when she saw him, his hair was blond. And she kept calling him Matthew Glanton.”

Andy stared at her. He stared at her for so long that Carolyn started to wonder if he'd completely tuned her out. Then suddenly Andy threw back his head and laughed.

“What's so funny?” Carolyn demanded, but it was several more seconds before Andy could catch his breath enough to answer.

“God, Carolyn, listen to yourself! Do you have any idea what Molly sees inside that mind of hers? Just last week she
swore
to Mr. Bell that all the sausages were glowing inside his meat counter—”

“I don't care about her other fantasies!” Carolyn insisted. “She seemed really serious about this!”

“She's always serious,” Andy said, shaking his head. “Look, Carolyn, I already told you—Molly's crazy and everybody knows it.”

“But that doesn't mean she didn't see
something
that night—”

“Yeah, okay, but in what other dimension?” Andy put his fists to his head, making a grunt of frustration deep in his throat. “Why are we even
having
this conversation! I think
I'm
losing my mind—”

“And when Molly told me all this stuff, I think Joss was hiding in the bushes listening to us.”

This time Andy's face went dead serious. He leaned toward her, put a finger to his lips, and said in an exaggerated whisper, “No! Not in the bushes!”

“Well, someone was!” Carolyn defended herself indignantly. She shoved Andy back as he started laughing again. “
Someone
was watching us and hiding.
And
listening.”

“Probably some poor guy who couldn't make it to the bathroom!”

“Andy, I heard the bushes
moving!
Someone was
there!
”

“Okay, okay, wait a minute.” Andy nodded at her, deadpan. “Joss was hiding in the bushes listening to Molly tell you that he used to be blond when he was the ghost of Captain Glanton and killed Hazel. Right. I think I've got it all straight now.”

Carolyn glared at him. The roaring was subsiding in her head now, and the street and the people and the colored lights were all coming back into focus.

“I want to go home,” she said coldly.

She turned and hurried down the street, but she could hear Andy running behind her.

“Carolyn, wait—come back!”

Carolyn went faster. In another second Andy was at her side, and he grabbed her arm to turn her around.

“Okay, I'm sorry. But do you know how ridiculous this all sounds? It's getting crazier by the minute!”

“I'm just trying to make sense out of everything, Andy!” Carolyn flung back at him. “Molly said
I
was in danger—that I could never escape now!”

“Escape what?” Andy looked lost. “Escape
who?
”

Carolyn jerked away from him, but he went after her, talking as he tried to keep up.

“So what's going on in that mind of yours? So let's just say—for the sheer insanity of it—that Molly
did
see Joss that night. So why would he come
back
here?”

“I don't know. You tell me.”

“Face it, Carolyn, it doesn't make any sense at all.”

“That's just it—it
doesn't
make sense!
Nothing
makes sense! I'm trying to
make
things make sense, and you're not helping me!”

“What makes sense”—Andy drew a deep breath—“is that nobody killed Hazel and that nobody ever believes Molly.”

Carolyn stopped so suddenly that Andy ran into her. She whirled back to face him, her face pale.

“You still don't get it, do you?”

“Get
what?
” Andy groaned.

“If Joss killed Hazel, then he just might have pushed my mother down the stairs. He just might have pushed me off the widow's walk. He just
might
be a homicidal maniac!”

“Oh, this is great. Just great! I can see it now—a houseful of plainclothes detectives to check out every guest at Glanton House! Just make yourself at home! While we run a police check and fingerprint you before you sign the guest book!”

“Take me home,” Carolyn said tightly.

Andy stared at her. He started to reach for her hand, thought better of it, then walked around her, giving her a wide berth.

“Okay, fine. Think what you want. Better yet, why don't you just
ask
Joss if he killed Hazel. Or wait—this is better. While you're at it, ask him if he dug up Carolyn Glanton and what he did with her bones.”

They didn't speak to each other all the way home. Andy let her off at the house, but Carolyn didn't wait for him to walk her to the door. Instead she hurried up the steps as Andy yelled from his open window.

“Does this mean our date's off for tomorrow?”

“I might not even be alive tomorrow!” Carolyn threw back at him. “This stupid house might
kill
me!”

“Then why are you going inside?”

Carolyn slammed the door. She stood for a moment staring into the shadows of the parlor, then she took a deep breath and walked farther into the room. A cozy fire crackled in the fireplace, and as her eyes grew accustomed to the light, she realized a lone figure was sitting in the rocking chair beside the hearth.

“Well,” Joss said, “sounds like you had a wonderful time.”

Carolyn opened her mouth … hesitated … shut it again. What was she going to do—come right out and confront him with her suspicions? Ask him about Hazel? Ask him why he was sneaking around the village today?
Good evening, Joss, and oh, by the way, were you spying on me tonight, were you thinking maybe of trying to kill me, and did you just happen to be on the beach the same time Hazel had her accident?

“I don't know anything about you,” she blurted out, and instantly regretted it. She couldn't see his face clearly, but she had the overpowering sensation that his eyes were boring into her, reading her thoughts, probing her very soul.

After a long silence Joss said, “There's not much to know.”

“I thought I saw you in the village today,” she said again before she could stop herself.

Joss sounded amused. “Hmmm … and I thought I was there. I thought you and I stood on the sidewalk and talked.”

“I don't mean then. I mean later.”

Shadows moved like liquid around him. His voice was deep and very soft.

“I've been working.”

“Have you ever met Molly?”

“Who's Molly?”

“A bag lady who lives on the beach.”

“No.”

Carolyn stared at his silhouette and bit her lip in frustration. For one instant she could feel his kiss again … the strength of his arms …
So what's going on, Joss, and why were you so different then
—

“I'm going to bed.”

“Good night,” Joss said.

“If you need anything, you'll have to knock loud—I'm going to lock my door.”

Again the shadows stirred, velvety blackness flowing around him like a dark, dark cape.

“That might be best,” he murmured. “We wouldn't want any more accidents … would we?”

20

S
TUPID … STUPID … YOU PRACTICALLY CAME RIGHT
out and accused him
—
you practically admitted you suspect him!

Carolyn was furious with herself.

She locked her bedroom door and leaned her head against it, her heart pounding.

So transparent! I can't believe how obvious you were down there
—
why didn't you just come right out and ask him how he killed Hazel and how he made Mom fall!

“Get a grip, Carolyn,” she muttered to herself. “Don't go over the edge on me now.…”

Like Hazel went over the edge … like Mom went over the edge … like I almost went over the edge
…

She turned and stared at her room. It blurred for a moment through tears, and then it came into focus once more.

But if he's a murderer, then why did he save me last night?

She let her eyes wander slowly over the walls … the furniture … windows … her suitcase still propped open in the corner …

My suitcase
.

Someone's been in my suitcase
.

She didn't know why she thought so. She knelt on the floor beside it and very slowly, very carefully began pulling out her clothes—one by one—holding each thing up to the light and examining it closely for—
what? What am I looking for?

She got to the end and put everything back. She sat there in the corner and let her gaze roam once more around the room. She'd made up her bed that morning, but now the covers looked rumpled and hastily smoothed. The pillow seemed slightly off center. The spread hung unevenly to the floor, as though someone had lifted it to look underneath.

Why would someone be in my room
—
what would they be looking for?

Carolyn was mystified. Her personal things hadn't even arrived yet—she'd hardly brought any clothes with her, much less anything of value that someone might want to steal. And she certainly didn't have anything with her that she might want to hide or lock away.

She crossed to her bed and sat down. It made her skin crawl just thinking someone else had been in here, searching through her things, maybe even sitting where she was sitting now.…

But it's just a feeling … I can't really prove anyone was in here.…

Uneasily Carolyn crawled into bed and clutched the covers to her chin. For a long, long while she hovered in that strange twilight state between sleep and wakefulness, and then finally she dreamed.

Voices were calling her—and the voices were the sea—and hands reached out from the waves, grabbing her arms and ankles, trying to pull her into the dark, churning water. She screamed, but no one heard. She tried to run, but the sand melted beneath her feet, pulling her down, swallowing her whole.

“
No!
”

Carolyn bolted upright in bed, her heart thudding. For the first few seconds, she looked wildly around her room, but then, as she realized it was just a nightmare, she huddled down under the blankets and tried to take deep, slow breaths.

She lay there wide-eyed, staring at the ceiling. There were no sounds from the third floor. No scratches, no clawing. No door banging back and forth in the wind. She raised up on her elbows and looked over at her windows. The wind was blowing fiercely, but there was no storm tonight.
Nothing to be scared about
…
nothing at all.…

She got up. She pulled the flashlight from the nightstand drawer, and then she went to her door. She put her ear against it and listened. Everything on the other side seemed peaceful and still. After several moments she peeked out, then tiptoed into the hall.

Joss's door was open.

Startled, Carolyn peered through the doorway, trying to penetrate the thick shadows of his room. Her first thought was that he must have fallen asleep without shutting his door, but the longer she stood and listened, the more she came to realize that his room was empty.

“Joss?” she whispered.

No answer.

“Joss? Are you in there?”

She felt her feet moving noiselessly across the corridor … felt her hand lifting to knock. What came out was a soft tapping sound she could barely hear herself.

“Joss?”

Carolyn pushed the door all the way in. By squinting, she could just make out his bed beneath the window, and several other pieces of furniture scattered among the shadows.