The Inn (19 page)

T
ammy stretched her measuring tape across the windowsill in the kitchen. But before she could make a note of the length, she suddenly had the distinct sense someone was behind her. With a start, she looked over her shoulder.

She was right. There was a man there. A tall, handsome man with two paper bags full of groceries in his hands.

“Oh, hello, I wasn't aware someone came in,” Tammy said, turning to the man.

He set the groceries on the counter. “It's always a pleasant surprise to come home and find a beautiful woman in your house.”

She blushed. “I'm Tammy,” she said. “I'm working with Chad, taking some measurements of the windows.”

“I didn't see Chad's truck out front,” the man said, taking some steaks out of the bags and putting them in the refrigerator.

Tammy shook her head. “He took the Englishman who's staying here into town.”

To this, the man lifted his eyebrows. “Did he now? Why couldn't Neville have driven himself? He has a car.”

“I'm not sure. I don't know what their errand was. But Chad said he'd be back shortly.”

The man nodded. “I'm sorry, I've been impolite,” he said. “I haven't introduced myself.” He walked across the room and extended his hand. “I'm Jack Devlin. The owner of the place.”

“Hello, Mr. Devlin,” Tammy said, accepting his greeting.

To her surprise, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Tammy. A very fine pleasure indeed.”

He didn't let go of her hand.

“Have you seen my wife?” Mr. Devlin asked.

Tammy felt uncomfortable that he was still holding her hand. He was also standing a little too close for comfort. She could smell him. Man sweat and aftershave.

“Um, I actually didn't meet your wife yet, but I saw her,” Tammy said awkwardly. “I believe she went out to take a walk.”

“I see.” Mr. Devlin smiled and took a step even closer to her. His grip on Tammy's hand tightened. “That means we have the house to ourselves.”

“No,” Tammy said quickly. “I heard a man in the attic. . . .”

“Oh, that's just Zeke,” said Mr. Devlin. His eyes seemed strange to Tammy. His pupils were dilated. “He won't bother us.”

Mr. Devlin leaned down toward her as if he was about to kiss her.

“No!” Tammy shrieked, yanking her hand away from him and hurrying across the kitchen. “You had no right to do that!”

“To do what?” Mr. Devlin asked her with a smirk. “I didn't do anything.”

“I have a job to do, Mr. Devlin,” Tammy told him.

His smirk stretched into a wide smile. “Then by all means,” he said, “don't let me keep you from it.” He winked at her, and then headed out of the kitchen.

Tammy had to sit down, she was shaking so much.

Hurry up, Chad
, she thought.
Get me out of here
.

A
nnabel ran.

Blood raced through her veins. She could feel it pulsing in her ears. She caught sight of the house up ahead, still too far away for comfort. She ran as fast as she could.

A broken branch on the ground proved her undoing. She tripped over it and fell facedown in the leaves.

A hand was gripping her arm. Whoever had been pursuing her had caught up to her.

“Annabel, are you all right?”

She looked up. It was Richard Carlson.

“Oh, Chief Carlson,” she said, nearly bursting into tears. “I thought . . .”

He helped her to her feet. “You thought what?”

“I don't know,” she said, brushing leaves off her coat. “A bear, maybe. I guess I thought you might be a bear.”

He smiled. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, the way you were coming after me.”

His face creased in puzzlement. “I wasn't coming after you. I just spotted you a few moments ago. I saw you from the parking lot, running through the woods. I was concerned.”

Annabel looked at him. “You didn't whistle? A little two-note sound, like this?” She demonstrated what she had heard.

“No, that wasn't me,” Richard told her.

“Then somebody was chasing me,” Annabel said, looking back out into the woods and shivering.

“Are you certain?”

She moved her eyes back to the police chief's. “No,” she admitted. “I'm not certain about a lot these days.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Annabel thought his eyes looked kind. A little tired, and there was sadness in there, too, but they were kind.

“I didn't want to come here,” she said, surprised at herself. The words just tumbled out; she hadn't planned to say them. “Jack thought it would be a good idea to leave New York and start over here at the Blue Boy Inn when his grandmother called and asked him to take over. So I came along.”

“Have you changed your mind since arriving?” Richard asked.

She shrugged. “I was hoping the project of restoring the place would give me some purpose, something to focus on. But then Priscilla and Paulie went missing, and that hand was found out back. . . .” She shuddered. “It makes me long for the safe streets of Manhattan.”

They both laughed and started walking slowly back to the house.

“If it's any consolation,” the chief said, “I believe the killer is long gone. I don't know why he came through this way, or why he either killed or kidnapped Priscilla and Paulie. But I don't think he stuck around. We've been through here several times a day. I've had officers searching these woods half a dozen times. There's been no trace. I think you're safe here.”

“Do you?” Annabel asked. “Honestly?”

“Safe from whoever killed Roger and possibly the other two,” Richard told her. “Whether there are other dangers here for you, only you can know that.”

She thought of Jack, and for a second, she wanted to tell Richard all of her doubts about him, but then realized how ridiculous that would sound. The chief of police was not a marriage counselor.

But he
should
know about the chimney....

“Did Neville speak with you?” Annabel asked. “About what I found . . . ?”

Richard was nodding. “That's why I'm here. I came out right away. He and Chad came to my office and told me about the blood.”

“Maybe it wasn't blood,” Annabel admitted. “I may be getting a little hysterical.”

“Well, it's worth a look, anyway,” the chief said. “Especially after what else they told me.”

“What was that?”

“They said that they heard some sounds down there today. Chad described it as a pack of raccoons eating very noisily.”

“Raccoons?”

Richard's face became serious. “If the killer dismembered Paulie and Priscilla and disposed of their remains in the chimney, it could be that animals smelled their decaying flesh and decided to creep down the chimney for a meal.”

“Oh, dear God!” Annabel was repulsed.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.”

“It's okay, chief. I just . . . well, it's hard to imagine.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You can call me Richard.”

Her eyes flickered up to his. “Oh, well, thank you.”

“Tell me something. Has anyone else looked into the ash dump since you discovered the blood?”

Annabel found herself shuddering. Richard tightened his grip on her shoulder.

“Zeke and my husband both, I think,” Annabel told him. “Zeke locked it up again.”

“Do you know if he looked inside before doing so?”

“I don't.”

Richard nodded. “I've got a forensics team on its way. But we ought to go down there ourselves first and take a look.”

“Of course,” Annabel said.

The chief removed his hand from her shoulder and they started walking back toward the house. “I'm sure this isn't how you imagined your new life in Woodfield would be.”

“You know,” she told him, “I had no idea what it would be like. I'm not a country girl. I've got the city in my blood. Born and raised in Manhattan. I miss the sounds of the city, the rush, the hustle, the constant energy.. . .”

He smiled. “My wife was originally from Manhattan. She loved the city as well.”

Annabel paused. “Richard, I can't help but notice you speak of her in the past tense.”

He nodded sadly. “She died. I've been on my own for a while.”

“You miss her a great deal,” Annabel observed. “I can tell.”

“Every moment of every day,” Richard admitted.

“How hard that must be for you.” She looked over at him. “But how very wonderful it must be to have loved someone that much, and for her to have loved you as much in return.”

“Yes,” acknowledged the chief. “Yes, indeed it was.”

They were close enough now to the house that they could see the driveway. Chad's truck was just at that moment pulling in.

“Chad and Neville didn't come back with you?” Annabel asked.

Richard shook his head. “Chad had to pick up some things at his office. But I came out straight away after they told me what they knew.”

He pointed out another vehicle in the driveway.

“I see your husband is at home,” Richard said.

“Yes,” Annabel replied. “And for some reason, I don't think Jack is going to be very pleased that I'm taking you down into the basement to look at the chimney.”

T
ammy headed down the basement steps. Chad had said to measure every window, and she assumed that to mean the basement as well.

Besides, she wanted to get away from that horrible Jack Devlin, who was lurking around the parlor and dining room. Every time she cast a glance in his direction, he was looking at her.

Of course,
Tammy thought, as she pulled the string to illuminate the overhead bulb,
he could corner me down here more easily.
But if he tried that, he'd have quite the surprise. Before making her way down the steps, she'd slung her purse over her shoulder. And inside, she carried a can of Mace. Being involved with a man as volatile as Roger, Tammy had learned to take precautions. And that prick Devlin would get a faceful of it if he tried anything again.

Once in the basement, Tammy saw that the windows were too high for her to easily reach. She realized she'd need something to stand on.

Over by the chimney, she spotted a small chest. She could pull that over.

But as she approached, the dim light above revealed something leaning against the chest.

A large doll of some sort, she thought. Propped in a sitting position.

But then—the doll's head moved.

Tammy gasped. She heard sounds. Teeth gnashing.

All at once, the thing sitting against the chest turned its face to look at her. It was a little man—and in his hands he held a bloody arm. He was gnawing at the bones of the fingers as if he were chewing on a chicken drumstick. Catching sight of Tammy, the little man hissed at her like a cat, baring a mouthful of bloody fangs.

Tammy screamed.

A
nnabel had just come inside the house with Richard when she heard the scream from the basement. It seemed to rise up like a physical thing, pushing itself through the slats in the floorboards, causing the whole house to tremble. It caused Annabel and Richard to stop cold in their tracks.

Chad and Neville were likewise frozen for that split second of time, standing a little ahead of them in the foyer. The two men hadn't even yet taken off their coats when the scream cut through the quiet afternoon.

Richard was the first to burst forward, heading toward the basement stairs, his hand on his gun. But he didn't have to go far. The young woman whom Annabel had seen earlier—Tammy something, she thought, Chad's helper—suddenly came bounding up the stairs.

She was as white as if covered in flour.

She bypassed Richard to run straight into Chad's arms.

“Get me out of here!” she said in the highest pitched voice Annabel had ever heard. The poor woman was shaking so badly it looked as if she had epilepsy.

“What happened, Tammy?” Chad asked.

“Down there!” was all she could say, burying her face against his chest. “Down there!” Then she broke free of Chad's embrace and bolted outside, Chad following.

“I'm going down,” Richard announced, gun drawn, heading down the stairs.

“I'm coming, too,” Annabel said.

The chief turned to her. “Stay up here,” he barked.

“I've got to see whatever is down there,” Annabel said.

Richard made a face. “Then stay well behind me,” he told her.

They made their way down the creaky old stairs.

The light was still burning. They saw nothing. Annabel lifted the flashlight from the floor and shone it around the near-empty basement. Still nothing. All they could see was the chest near the chimney. The door to the ash dump was still padlocked, and the key was nowhere in sight.

“I've got to go out and interview Tammy about what it was she saw down here,” Richard told Annabel. “Whatever it was appears to be gone now. In the meantime, I'll need your permission to search this place, to pry open that ash dump door. . . .”

“What the hell is going on here?”

They spun around.

Jack had come down the stairs. He was angry, eyes blazing. “What was all that screaming about? And exactly why do you need to search this house?”

Richard looked at him. Annabel tensed.

“Mr. Devlin,” the chief explained, “Tammy Morelli just ran out of this basement a terrified wreck. She saw something down here. I'm going out to interview her now. I don't know what she saw, but there have been enough reports about this house to warrant a complete search.”

The chief pushed past Jack to head back up the stairs. Annabel attempted to follow him, but Jack grabbed her arm.

“I'm not letting anyone search this house,” her husband growled.

“Jack, we have to cooperate with the police.”

“Yeah, I think you've been cooperating a little too closely with that guy,” he grumbled. “I saw you out walking with him, taking a little romantic stroll through the woods.”

“Jack!” Annabel was nearly flabbergasted. “You are talking crazy!”

“I'm not letting him search this house. You said yourself that we needed to stand up against this reputation as being haunted and all that.”

“Jack, this is no time to argue,” Annabel said, hurrying up the basement stairs. In truth, she had become afraid of him, and didn't want to be in the basement alone with him.

Upstairs, she found Neville sitting forlornly in the parlor. “They're outside,” he told Annabel, gesturing with his head toward the front door.

She stepped outside onto the porch. She could see Tammy sitting in the passenger's side of Chad's truck, her arms wrapped around herself. Richard was speaking with her intensely through the open door. Annabel headed toward them.

Chad stopped her halfway. “Look,” he said. “Tammy's always been a bit hysterical. You know Roger Askew was her boyfriend.”

Annabel was stunned. “The guy whose hand was found in the wood box?”

“Yeah. So she's easily spooked. She's had a hard time the past few years, and I was trying to help her out. But I wouldn't necessarily take what she says as gospel. I think she's clean now, but she used to do a lot of drugs. . . .”

Annabel bristled. “Just because someone once had an addiction shouldn't mean we discount their intelligence or reliability.”

“No, no, of course not, I just meant—”

Annabel cut him off. “What has she been saying?”

“It's crazy talk, Annabel. She says she saw a little man in the basement—like an elf—eating a human arm.”

Annabel couldn't speak for a moment. “A . . . little man?” she finally asked.

“Yeah. I think she was upset about something else, though.” Chad looked over his shoulder, and then drew closer to her. “You should know about this. She might be making a complaint. She claims your husband sexually harassed her earlier.”

This was all too much for Annabel to take in. She felt light-headed, as if she might pass out.

“I'm sorry to have to tell you that,” Chad said. “But it's what Tammy is saying. And like I said, she can get hysterical at times.”

“She's not hysterical,” Annabel managed to say.

Richard had left Tammy's side and was now approaching them. “Take her home, Chad. She's very upset.” The chief looked at Annabel. “I'd like to get a team out here this afternoon to inspect that chimney,” he told her.

Annabel glanced over at the front porch. Jack stood there, legs spread apart, arms crossed over his chest. He was scowling.

“I don't think he's going to let you,” Annabel said sadly.

“Then I'll have to get a court order, and that could take a couple of days.”

“I'll try talking to him,” Annabel said, looking over at Jack, “but he's . . . different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm not sure,” she replied, as she headed back toward the house. “I'm not sure of anything anymore.”