Ghost House Revenge (14 page)

“Sorry if I startled you,” he said, “but you didn’t answer when I knocked at the door.
Are you ready yet?”

“Yea,” Alicen said, resuming her tying. She got up at last and pulled her raincoat
from the closet. Derek noticed her hands trembling a bit but thought it was because
he had startled her.

It was hard to believe the day had gone from brilliantly sunny to gloomy gray. But
the air was heavy with moisture, and rain would be welcome. The breeze blowing now
made the drive to Manhattan more pleasant, and the Volvo rode smoothly along. Derek
turned on the radio and hummed with the music. Alicen rested her head on the window
ledge and let the breeze blow her hair back.

“Hey, that’s it for today for the Charlie Grinn show. I’ll be back tomorrow with more
hits, old and new.”

An interlude of music led to the news.

“Good afternoon. In Washington today, the president . . .”

Derek looked across the seat at his daughter. She seemed lost in a dream world, her
eyes squinted against the wind. He returned his own eyes to the road and said, “Alicen,
do you want to talk about the accident?”

“I’ve been talking about it all day,” Alicen said. “That cop Bryan Davis asked so
many questions.”

“Talking might make you feel better,” Derek said. “You can’t face your problems until
they’re out in the open.”

“I don’t have any problems!” Alicen snapped.

“Don’t use that tone of voice with me,” Derek cautioned.

Alicen clicked her tongue. “Oh, dad! Can’t we just have a nice time tonight without
talking about dumb things like that accident?”

“I don’t think it’s so dumb, Alicen,” Derek said. He
glanced at her again. “Stop pouting. We won’t talk about the accident if you don’t
want to.”

“I don’t,” Alicen said.

They sat in silence for a while longer, listening to the news broadcast. There was
a report on the bus accident.

“Here on Long Island, police are baffled over a bus accident involving fifty children
from Saint Anne’s school in Belle Bay. The bus, en route to the Vanderbilt Planetarium
in Centerport, collided head-on with the fence surrounding the construction site of
the Louis Pasteur Hotel. Speed of the bus was clocked at over eighty miles per hour.
The mystery? No driver could be found in the wreckage. Described only as a young woman
with long blond hair, she is being sought by police for endangering the lives of minors
and for the death of Dwight Percy, the children’s teacher. Percy, aged sixty-one,
was sitting in the front of the bus at the time of the collision. He had no survivors.

“Miraculously, only four children were seriously injured. A broken arm, nose, and
fractured skull were reported. One girl who complained about twisted fingers was treated
and released. Police are investigating the incident and request that anyone having
information should call . . .”

Derek switched off the radio. “You didn’t tell me about the driver,” he said.

“You didn’t ask,” Alicen replied.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Derek said. “And what do they mean, they couldn’t find her?”

Alicen shrugged, not turning her head from the window.

“She sort of disappeared, I guess.”

“How does anyone ‘sort of disappear’ from a speeding bus?” Derek wanted to know. When
Alicen didn’t reply, Derek tapped her impatiently. “Will you please answer me?”

“I don’t know!” Alicen cried. “It happened too fast! Everyone’s asking me so many
questions.” She sniffled, fighting tears.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said. “I promised you we wouldn’t talk about the accident, didn’t
I?”

From the corner of his eye he saw Alicen nod.

“Then we’ll drop it,” he said. “So, what do you want to do today?”

“I want to see the Central Park Zoo,” Alicen said, cheering up again.

“That’s the girl,” Derek encouraged.

As she tried to forget the accident, Alicen told her father
all the things she wanted to see in the city. She didn’t tell him that she dreaded
coming home again.

Balancing himself with outstretched arms, the policeman named Tim hurried down the
steep slope that led from the roadside. Under orders from their captain, he and his
partner Rick were investigating the scene of that morning’s bus accident Rick walked
up ahead, holding fast to the leashes of a pair of German shepherds. The animals whined
and looked about in bewilderment, not picking up a scent. Tim kept his eyes to the
ground, looking for footprints, pieces of clothing, or anything to indicate someone
had been there. He was becoming as frustrated as the dogs; they had been walking for
a mile and had yet to find a thing.

“I don’t know why Davis took the word of some kid,” he said, kicking aside a rusted
can.

“I’m telling you,” Rick answered, “that guy named Percy must have been the driver.
I don’t know why we’re looking for some woman who doesn’t even exist.”

“Fifty kids can’t all be lying,” Tim pointed out.

“Well, the kid who talked to Davis was,” Rick said. “You can’t tell me a woman jumped
from a speeding bus and just got up and walked away.”

“I’m not telling you that,” Tim said quietly.

They moved on in silence, walking further and further from the construction site.
The sun was starting to go down now, and the air was growing pleasantly cool. Every
once in a while, Tim would look up at the cars passing on the road, squinting against
the brilliance of their lights. He laughed a little to see them slow down at the sight
of the police car’s flashing red light. Then he looked down at the ground again.

“It’s six, Tim,” Rick said some time later. “Let’s call it quits.”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “We aren’t going to find anything here.”

Back at the police station, they turned the dogs over to the kennel master, made their
report, and went home. Chief Morris contacted Bryan Davis, telling him no body had
been found, let alone evidence there had been one at all.

Several miles away, Bryan hung up the receiver and got up from behind his desk. A
while ago, he had been looking forward to the end of a long day. But now that his
only lead to the driver’s whereabouts was gone, he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest
until he had some answers. That Miller kid had to know something more. She’d looked
so spaced-out that afternoon, and she had been overly adamant that he should believe
her story. There had to be more to it.

Was it possible, Bryan thought, that she had been told to bring that story to him?
An innocent kid doing someone’s dirty work? Bryan decided the best way to find out
would be to talk to her at home. It was only eight o’clock, not too late to make a
call on the Miller house. Pulling the folder on the accident from the file, Bryan
looked up Alicen’s address in the list of children. His eyebrows went up when he read
it.

“Three twenty-eight Starbine Court Road,” he said aloud. ‘What’s that kid doing in
the VanBuren house?”

He’d find out soon enough, he thought. Thinking the girl might be more relaxed if
he was out of uniform, he changed into jeans and a plaid shirt in the locker room.
Then he went out to his car. As he drove through town, he recalled the night he had
last been at the VanBurens’ some six months ago. He remembered comforting Melanie
after her husband’s accident. Even now, Bryan shuddered to think of it.

“This has nothing to do with what happened last year,” he told himself firmly.

But tonight it was too clearly stamped on his mind. He reluctantly recalled the events
that had taken place at the house, when a “maniac” had tried to destroy the VanBuren
family. It had been so terrifying, so unbelievable, the things that had happened that
snowy November night. And he and the five other cops with him had vowed never to talk
about it again.

The main street of Belle Bay was active right now, filled with teen-agers hanging
out in front of well-lit stores, young couples shopping, and elderly people out for
strolls. Bryan looked up at the trees that lined the street, seeing rich foliage of
late spring silhouetted against the moonlit sky. As the stores and people faded out,
the homes became more numerous, old Colonials mixed in with modern brick and aluminum-sided
houses. Bryan noted the finely trimmed lawns and
painted picket fences. People took care of their homes in Belle Bay. That was one
reason why he loved this town. He didn’t need any trouble here.

Now the houses thinned out, and Bryan found himself on Houston Street. From here,
he could see the huge VanBuren mansion, sitting regally upon a hill. Though only one
upstairs light was on, the entire house seemed to glow. Bryan was surprised to feel
himself shudder.

No cars passed him on the road as he neared Starbine Court. He swung onto it, driving
close to the beach for several hundred yards. He could just barely make out a couple
sharing a blanket at the water’s edge. In a few weeks, he thought, it would be beach
season.

Just before he reached the hill that led to the mansion, he passed another house,
huge and gray. It was empty now, ever since its elderly owner’s death a year earlier.
The house made Bryan think of hell, as if one could enter the eternal darkness by
stepping behind one of the boarded-up windows.

He shook that ridiculous thought from his mind and drove up the hill. Parking his
car in the driveway, he went to the front of the house, climbed the wooden stairs,
and rang the bell. Seconds later, the porch was flooded with light. Melanie VanBuren
opened the door, dressed in a robe. Recognizing him, she stepped back and smiled a
little.

“Captain Davis,” she said pleasantly, running her hand over her just-washed hair.
“Come on in.”

“It looks like I’ve come at a bad time,” Bryan said. He saw Gary behind his wife,
leaning on crutches. “But I had the idea to ask some questions about the accident.”

“Is this official?” Gary asked, leading the police chief into the living room. “You
aren’t in uniform.”

“I thought this was a little less intimidating,” Bryan said. He sat down on the couch,
sinking comfortably into the overstuffed cushions. “I’d like to talk with Alicen Miller—I
understand she lives with you?”

“Yes, she does,” Melanie said. “But she’s not here right now. She’s out with her father.”

“I thought you asked questions at the school today,” Gary said.

“I did,” Bryan answered. “But I got nowhere.” He thought for a moment, toeing the
ball-and-claw feet of the coffee table, then said, “I thought the children would be
more comfortable if I spoke to them in their homes, with their parents there beside
them. I’m hoping to get more information this way.”

“It’s a good idea,” Melanie said. “But why did you choose to start with Alicen?”

“She came to see me today,” Bryan said.

Gary rocked a bit on his crutches. “Alicen didn’t tell anyone she went out,” he said.

“Well, she came to the station around twelve-thirty,” Bryan reported.

“Oh, that’s impossible,” Melanie said, leaning forward in her chair. “I dropped her
off here at noon. She couldn’t have had time to walk back into town!”

“Then she managed to hitch a ride,” Bryan suggested. “But she was there, and she had
quite a story to tell me. I want to hear it from her again.”

“A story?” Melanie echoed. “Alicen hardly seems the type to tell stories. She’s a
very shy girl.”

“Didn’t seem that way to me,” Bryan answered. He stood up. “Well, if she’s not here,
I’ll see her tomorrow. Sorry if I disturbed you.”

Gary called to him before he reached the door. “I thought you wanted to talk to all
of the children?”

“Huh?” Bryan answered, turning. “Oh, yeah. I said that, didn’t I?”

“Let me get Gina,” Melanie said. “She’s still up.”

She had left the room before Bryan could protest. Sighing, he returned to the couch
and sat down again.

“How did she take the accident?” he asked.

“Not too badly,” Gary answered. “My kids are pretty tough. They’ve been through worse,
remember.”

“I remember,” Bryan said quietly. “It just seems wrong that one girl should suffer
so much. I mean, after what happened last year. . .”

“We don’t talk about that,” Gary said.

Bryan nodded. “Smart thing.” He shifted on the couch, making himself more comfortable,
then indicated Gary’s crutches. “You look like you’re doing well, though,” he said.
“Am I right?”

“I do the best I can,” Gary answered. “I’ve been on crutches for a few weeks now.
My next challenge is the stairs.”

“You have to go to some clinic for that?”

“No, I’ve got a private therapist,” Gary said. “He—Derek—is Alicen’s father.”

“That explains why she lives with you,” Bryan said.

“You were wondering what another kid is doing in this spooky house, huh?”

“Sort of,” Bryan said. “It surprised me to see she had the same address as Gina. Does
her mother live here, too?”

“Alicen’s mother is dead,” he heard Melanie say. He turned and saw her enter the room
with Gina, who was dressed in chinos and a T-shirt with a rainbow painted on it. She
looked at him with questioning brown eyes, then went to sit on the armchair across
from the couch.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hey, there,” Bryan said, smiling. “How’re you?”

“Fine,” Gina said. “Do you want to ask me some questions?”

“That’s right,” Bryan answered. “I was hoping you could remember something new.”

Without hesitation, Gina shook her head. “I told you everything this morning.”

“Tell me again,” Bryan said. “And take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Gina brought her legs up under her and folded her hands in her lap. She looked around
the room, her brow furrowed as she tried to remember the morning’s events. At last
she fixed her gaze on the bronze fireplace screen and started to speak.

“We were supposed to go to the planetarium,” she said. “I wanted to sit in the back,
but Alicen said she’d get sick. So we sat right behind the driver.”

“Did you see her?”

“Sure,” Gina said.