Ghost House Revenge (35 page)

Quickly Bryan tore off Melanie’s gag as another cop cut her ropes.

“She’s got my children somewhere!” she cried, her voice hoarse.

“She?” Bryan echoed.

“You mean Derek Miller,” Owen said.

“No,” Melanie said firmly.
“She.”
She looked into Bryan’s eyes. “Janice Lors.”

Bryan backed away. Janice Lors? But she had been dead seven months.

And Jacob Armand had been dead nearly two hundred years on that November night when
. . .

“Spread out over the house,” he said over his walkie-talkie to his men. ‘We’re looking
for four kids, and a man.”

No use telling them to look for someone they couldn’t see.

“Where did the pounding come from, Mrs. VanBuren?” he asked.

Melanie shook her head. Where? It had come from everywhere, carried through every
wooden beam of the house.

“Just find my babies, please, ” she cried, standing.

She hurried from the kitchen, Owen and Bryan at her heels. They broke off in separate
directions, Melanie hurrying upstairs in spite of Bryan’s protests. She knew where
to find Derek. And she’d make him tell her where her children were.

He was in Alicen’s room, holding the girl on his lap. Melanie stopped in her tracks.
Why was her face so pale, her head hanging back like that?

Derek stared at her through tears.

“She’s dead,” he said softly. “Janice appeared to her, and when she saw it wasn’t
her mother, she collapsed.”

“Oh, God,” Melanie whispered, moving closer to them.

She reached out and touched Alicen’s body. It was still warm. And then she drew back
and screamed:

“Derek, where are my children?”

“I don’t know,” Derek whined.

“You have to know,” Melanie cried. “She’s got them somewhere, and she’s going to kill
them, too. Please, Derek!”

“I don’t know where they are.”

“Derek, this house is filled with police,” Melanie said, her voice filled with rage.
“They’ll arrest you for murder if you don’t tell me where Janice has my children!”

Just then, Owen and Bryan burst into the room. They took in Melanie, standing there
with her fists clenched, Derek, crying softly, and the little girl flopped in his
arms. When Bryan tried to pry the child loose, Derek spat at him and tightened his
arms.

“I never wanted this to happen,” he sobbed. “Jesus, she’s just a kid. I never wanted
her to die.”

But Bryan had seen a soft rising in the girl’s chest. He forced Derek’s arm away and
listened to the child’s pulse. “This child is alive,” he said, standing. “She needs
an ambulance.”

“Oh, Derek!” Melanie cried. “Can’t you see what she’s done? Janice almost killed your
little girl. She’s made both of
you her slaves. Don’t give in to her, Derek. Please tell me where she has my children.”

Derek rocked his daughter back and forth. Alive? She was alive?

“The—the cellar,” he stammered. “She’s got them in the storage room.”

Without hesitation, Owen and Bryan ran from the room. Even as they hurried downstairs,
Janice was standing over three cowering children, her eyes blazing.

“You wicked children,” she said. “You tried to call for help, didn’t you? And now
Derek’s sent help down here—but hell pay for defying me.”

She took a step forward. “But first—”

Gina screamed as best she could and kicked at the massless body. Janice laughed at
her.

“Don’t try to stop me,” she said. “You deserve to die, all of you.”

She grabbed Nancy’s curls and lifted her off the floor. The child stuggled like a
fish, with no arms or legs to flay. Janice shook her roughly and threw her to the
ground. “You’re all going to die.”

But just then, the door crashed open. In the same instant Janice was gone, leaving
Bryan Davis alone to gape in wonder at the children. Quickly, he untied them. Melanie
appeared in the doorway now, and Kyle and Gina ran to her.

“Oh, my babies!” Melanie whispered. “It’s all right.”

“Nancy’s hurt!” Gina cried.

Melanie looked up at Bryan, who had taken the child in his arms. He passed by her
and carried her upstairs. Moments later, all three children were in the back of an
ambulance. But Melanie wasn’t with them.

“Where’s my mother?” Kyle shouted.

“I don’t know,” Bryan said, hurrying back to the house. Owen was at his side, and
Bryan turned and snapped, “Stay out here. This doesn’t concern you.”

“He killed my sister!” Owen yelled.

“Derek Miller didn’t kill your sister,” Bryan insisted.

He ran into the kitchen. Melanie was standing there, holding hands with Derek, speaking
in firm tones.

And Janice was standing across from her.

“You can fight her, Derek,” Melanie was saying. “You’re a strong man. Don’t let her
control you.”

“You fool,” Janice hissed. “I
do
control him. Derek, I want her to die.
Now.”

Derek shook his head slowly. “No.”

“What did you say?” Janice demanded.

Bryan took a step forward but stopped when Melanie spoke again.

“He isn’t going to listen to you any more,” she said. “Not since you tried to kill
his daughter.”

“Derek, you’re my lover.” Janice screamed.
“Kill her!”

“Melanie, get out of this house,” Derek said.

“Where am I going to go?” Melanie demanded. “I want to see this ended now, or I’ll
never escape her.”

She began to cry again. Suddenly, infuriated by her tears, Janice pounced forward
to grab her—but somehow Bryan managed to beat her to it. Without looking back, he
dragged Melanie out to the ambulance.

“Get them to the hospital,” he said to the drivers.

He turned back as the ambulance drove away, carrying a mother hugging her three children
for dear life. Suddenly, Bryan realized Owen Crewe was now nowhere in sight. He raced
to the house. Owen was in the kitchen, staring at something with wide eyes. Bryan
turned to where his eyes were fixed.

Janice was on top of Derek.

“My God,” he whispered. “She’s tearing him apart.”

He knew that he and Owen would be next if they didn’t run
now
.

“Owen, get out of here!” he shouted, pulling at the other man.

He had seen so much in his years as a cop—so much gore and horror. But nothing would
be imprinted in his mind more clearly than the picture of Janice Lors digging her
hands into Derek’s flesh, ripping at it. Clutching at his stomach, Bryan slid into
his car and started the engine.

“I don’t understand any of this,” Owen said softly, watching the house. “I don’t understand
why Liza had to die. Why did Derek kill her? Who was that woman in there?”

“That house,” Bryan answered vaguely. “It was that house. It ought to be burned to
the ground.”

Angrily he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal and sped into town—into the peaceful
town of Belle Bay.

“Gary, I’m not going back to that house,” Melanie said.

She sat with her husband on a couch in a hotel room, her head on his shoulder. They
had been here two days, ever since the hospital checked them over and released them.
Gary had been released at the same time and had found a place to hide from reporters
just a few miles out of town. It was a small room, with only one king-sized bed, where
Kyle and Nancy now slept away their fears. Gina was sitting in a chair, listlessly
flipping through a magazine.

“Of course we won’t,” Gary answered, kissing his wife.

She looked at him in disbelief.

“You aren’t going to argue with me?”

“No,” Gary said. “We should have left that house seven months ago. We should have
known this would happen again.”

He squeezed her tightly. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Melanie,” he said quietly.

“Lydia Browning tried to warn us,” Melanie said. “Perhaps it was to make up for all
the wrongs Jacob committed out of love for her.”

She waved her hand. “But we’re safe now—that’s the important thing.”

Gina stood up now and walked to them, putting her arms around Gary’s shoulders.

“Daddy?” she asked. “Where are we going to go?”

“I was thinking of staying with your grandparents a few months,” Gary said. “Would
you like that?”

Gina nodded.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Gary,” Melanie said. “My parents have plenty of room.”

“Are we going to leave the furniture?” Gina asked. “And all our nice things?”

“No, honey,” Gary said.

“We can’t go back to get them!” Melanie cried.

“I’ll call a moving van once we’re at your parents’ place,”
Gary said. “We never have to set foot on that property again.”

“Thank God,” Melanie said. She looked at Gina. “Honey, it’s late. Why don’t you try
to get some sleep?”

“I can’t sleep,” she said, shuffling her feet on the rug.

Melanie stood up and put her arms around the child. As she stroked her hair, she asked,
“You aren’t thinking of what happened at the house, are you? You shouldn’t. None of
it was our fault.”

“Janice said you killed her,” Gina said softly.

“Gina—” Gary cautioned.

“No, Gary,” Melanie said. “She’s old enough to hear the truth. Gina, I did kill Janice.
But it was blocked from my mind until a few days ago. I believed Jacob Armand had
done it.”

“That’s why she came back to haunt us?” Gina asked. “It was your fault?”

“Gina, please,” Melanie said. “Janice had tried to hurt Kyle, and she had led you
into Jacob’s trap. I had to defend you—so I hit her across the back of her head with
a gun. I didn’t mean to kill her. I only wanted to save my children.”

She had begun to cry. Now Gina was crying, pressing her head into Melanie’s heaving
breast Her mother held her tightly. Gary, feeling helpless, reached for his crutches
and got to his feet. Melanie and Gina moved closer to him.

“Go ahead and cry,” he said. “It’ll make you feel better. But don’t worry. We’re going
to get as far away from that house as possible.”

He looked at the two children sleeping in the bed.

“No one will ever hurt you again,” he vowed.

“Wh-what about Alicen?” Gina blubbered.

“Alicen?”

“She must be so lonely in that old hospital,” Gina said. “It wasn’t her fault this
happened. Janice made her do those awful things. And now she doesn’t have a father
or a mother.”

“She’s right, Gary,” Melanie said. “We can’t just leave that child.”

Gary nodded. “I’m a lawyer. I know who to ask about taking care of her.”

He kissed each of them.

“Alicen can come with us,” he said. “And then, I swear to you, we’ll never be afraid
again.”

* * *

Owen tugged at his mustache and stared at the carved double doors of the big white
mansion. God, he thought, how could any place so beautiful hold so much evil? From
talking to Bryan Davis, he knew now that his sister had been murdered by a ghost and
that the ghost had also murdered Derek Miller.

But who would believe it? How could he tell his parents, who lived so peacefully in
their Florida condominium, that their precious daughter had been murdered by a ghost?

“You don’t have to tell them anything like that,” Bryan had said as they sat together
in the police station that morning. “We have a likely suspect. The man you first accused—Derek
Miller.”

“But he’s innocent,” Owen said.

“And dead,” Bryan answered. “He can’t defend himself. And who’s going to defend him?
A thirteen-year-old kid? Alicen’s going to be in a hospital for a long time, and by
the time she gets well, she won’t remember any of this.”

“Poor kid,” Owen said. “But tell me about her father.”

“Derek Miller had no family except for his daughter,” Bryan said. “And only one close
friend—a doctor named Mary Norton. I’ve already told her Derek was going slowly mad
over the death of his wife Elaine, and she accepted that theory.”

He lifted a pencil and bounced it a few times.

“Besides, I like the VanBurens,” he said. “If we accuse Janice, they’ll have all sorts
of nuts bothering them the rest of their lives. But if we don’t accuse someone, the
blame will lie on them. And I don’t want to see that happen.”

God only knew the VanBurens had suffered enough. Bryan should have seen it coming
when Gina was involved in that bus accident. The driver had been Janice Lors. She
had taken little Alicen Miller into her power and had sent her to the police station
with a story about the driver jumping from the bus. That mystery was now solved, too.
Bryan would worry about what he’d say in his report later.

“Neither do I,” Owen said, standing. “You go ahead and tell the papers it was Derek
who killed my sister. But I won’t rest until the real murderer gets what’s coming
to her.”

“Stay away from that house,” Bryan cautioned. “If I find you there, I’ll have you
arrested. That place is deadly.”

Owen stared at him, considering the threat.

“All right,” he said at last. ‘There’s nothing I can do to a ghost anyway, is there?”

Yet now he was walking around the house to the back door, barricaded only by yellow
tape that read: POLICE AREA DO NOT CROSS. Owen climbed over it.

Pending an investigation into Liza and Derek’s deaths, the house had been left exactly
the way it was two days ago. Chairs were overturned, paintings knocked from the walls,
the glass windows in the living room were shattered. Absently, Owen bent down and
righted the rocking chair, setting it near the fireplace. He looked around in awe
at the beauty of the room, with its plush sofa and antique furniture. And then he
felt a touch on his arm.

“I knew you’d be back,” a voice said. Owen turned and saw the woman named Janice smiling
at him. “I noticed you alone among all those other people here the day I killed Derek.
I knew I wanted you.”

Stunned, Owen said nothing. Her eyes were powerful, holding him fast.

“I thought I wanted Derek,” Janice said, moving closer to him. “But he betrayed me.
He let those murderers escape.”

She turned to stare through filmy eyes at the fireplace. “But I will have my revenge
one day.”