Watch for the Dead (Relatively Dead Book 4) (8 page)

It was still too early to cook when they reached their cottage. Abby poured drinks, and they went out to sit on the porch to admire the view. Ellie got bored with that quickly and went down to the bulkhead to peer into the water. “I see a crab!” she called out, excited. “It’s swimming sideways!”

“That’s what they do, I think. You want to catch one?”

“For a pet?”

“No, for dinner.”

Ellie shook her head vigorously.

Abby relaxed into her chair. There was something about the weather that felt different. The light was still kind of—she struggled for a word—diluted, like there was a lot of moisture in the air. Or maybe there were very thin clouds very high up that signaled the leading edge of the storm. She jumped up to retrieve her cell phone, where she had loaded a weather app, and checked what was going to happen. She read through the local forecast without learning much she didn’t already know. She would describe the entries for the next few days as cautiously pessimistic. Yes, there would be rain—that much was clear. There would be winds, and they might be strong. Or not. There was a small chance of coastal flooding, but not everywhere. Abby had no idea whether her current location was prone to flooding.

She checked for messages and found that Ned had texted briefly. “Storm getting stronger.” That was all—no help. Was stronger a problem?

Suddenly she remembered the binder she had found earlier, with all the firsthand local reports of the Hurricane of 1938, which was still one of the benchmarks for New England storms. Would it scare Ellie to read through it? Heck, would it scare her? She decided to stroll around the perimeter of the house, just to see what was what. No nearby trees to fall on the house: that was good. There were in fact wooden shutters for the windows, and they looked original—which meant they were over a century old. How well would they stand up to a storm? On closer inspection, Abby determined that they had been well maintained, but they were still old. If worse came to worst, it would probably be better to close them than not, because closed they might provide some protection, but open they might fly away and bash somebody else’s property.

Ned hadn’t come out and said that he wanted them to head home before the storm. He’d left it up to her. The weather service was not crying “disaster!” For now she was content to stay put and wait and see. Which, one could argue, might make it too late to change plans. Did she really want Ned to call her and demand that she leave immediately? He was not the kind of man who would do that—he trusted her intelligence and judgment. But she had pitifully little experience with major storms. What to do?

Make dinner. That she could handle. “Ellie, you want to help me cook?”

Ellie can scampering back. “Okay. I saw another crab. The water’s not real deep right there.”

“Depends on the tide, I guess. Do you know about tides?”

“Some. The tide kind of follows the moon, right?”

That discussion carried them through the making and eating of a simple dinner of grilled sausages (Abby’s compromise to Ellie’s suggestion of hot dogs), fresh corn, and local lettuce. When they were clearing the table, Abby asked, “Do you remember any big storms, Ellie?”

“Like the snow last year?”

“Kind of, although winter storms and summer storms aren’t exactly the same. What do you remember?”

“Mostly it kept snowing and snowing, and it was so cold that the wind blew it all around, so every time Daddy shoveled, the path got covered up again. It went on for a long time.”

“That it did. Anyway, I was asking because we might be getting a big storm here, and I’m trying to decide if it’s safe to stay in this house or if it might be smarter if we left before it started.”

“This is an old house, right?” Ellie asked.

“It is, probably over a hundred years old. Why?”

“Then it must have been through plenty of storms and it seems to be in pretty good shape.”

“You’re right. In fact, it came through the biggest storm of the last century pretty well, I think.”

“Do you remember that one?” Ellie asked.

Abby laughed. “No, I’d have to be ancient. That one took place in 1938, long before I was born. There’s a book of newspaper articles about it in the living room, that somebody collected. We could look at that—if you promise it won’t scare you.”

Ellie looked out the window. “Doesn’t look like there’s a storm, does it?”

“No, it’s still far away, but it’s big and it can move fast. Depends on a lot of things.”

“Can we wait until morning before we decide?” Ellie asked.

“I think that’s okay. I’ll talk to Ned and see what he thinks.”

“Okay. Can I see that book?”

“Fine—you can look at that, and I’ll talk to Ned.”

They adjourned to the living room, and Abby located the old binder that she had set on the dining room table earlier and handed it to Ellie, who sat down on a faded couch and started leafing through it. Abby took her phone out to the porch. The sun was setting, and the sky looked kind of bleached out. The sun was not red, anyway. What was the old saying? “Red sky at night, sailors’ delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning.” She hit Ned’s number.

“Hey, there,” he answered quickly. “How’re you holding up?”

“We’re fine. We spent the day looking at a lighthouse and a nice empty beach and Provincetown. I made Ellie taste a bite of lobster, and we watched saltwater taffy being made. Think I’ve warped her for life?” Abby joked.

“I doubt it. Listen, about the weather . . .”

“What?” Abby said.

“It looks like it’s heading out to sea, but you’re pretty exposed there. Are you comfortable with that?”

“Ned, I’ve never known you to worry like this. I’m not playing ostrich here, you know. From the weather reports I’ve just looked at, all we’ll get is wet, with some wind. This house is sturdy and well maintained. We’ve got real shutters, not just those glue-on plastic ones—I checked. We can close those. We’ve got flashlights and batteries if the power goes out. It’s just a storm. Oh, and Ellie and I are going to look at the album about the last big hurricane, which was truly awful. That should make this weather look like a little sprinkle. So could you maybe back off?”

Ned sighed but didn’t argue. “All right. I’ll try to get away Friday if I can. Saturday definitely. Call me if you’ve got trouble.”

“I will.” Abby refrained from saying that if they got into trouble on the Cape, there was no way Ned could get to them. But the thought that he wanted to was comforting. “By the way, you might want to nail down a few bits on our house before you leave. I wouldn’t want anybody to get whacked by a piece of flying gingerbread.”

“Oh. Right. If I have time. Love you!”

Abby signed off in a pensive mood, trying to figure out why Ned’s anxiety level was so high. Normally he was fairly laid-back. Of course, he’d been working hard lately, so maybe he was more tired than usual. And now Ellie was here on the Cape, and if anything happened to her—not that that was likely—then he’d take the blame. So he was being cautious, right? Over-protective? Was there really anything worth worrying about?

Then Ellie called out, “Hey, come see this!”

Chapter 8

The yellowed clippings in the old album and the grainy images they contained seemed somehow unreal, like they’d been fabricated. The descriptions of the Great New England Hurricane were mind-boggling. Unlike a lot of storms, this one hadn’t lost strength when it made landfall, but kept right on going, with sustained hurricane-force winds. The storm surge had averaged fourteen to eighteen feet, and on parts of Cape Cod the tides had reached as much as twenty-five feet. Areas of Falmouth had been under up to eight feet of water. Some areas of the state had received as much as six inches of rain, which of course had resulted in a lot of flooding. Nearly nine thousand homes had been destroyed, and almost twice as many damaged. The fishing fleets of southern New England were all but wiped out. At least five hundred people had died; some estimates put it closer to eight hundred.

Abby kept shaking her head in disbelief. One of the worst aspects of it all was that at least one member of the then United States Weather Bureau had seen what was coming and tried to warn people, but he had been overruled by older and wiser heads. It was as though the official forecasters couldn’t even find the storm or estimate its size. Surely things were better now? There were all sorts of tracking systems and satellites. It couldn’t happen again. Could it?

Abby checked the weather forecast on her phone again. Still no sense of urgency, but it seemed to her that the estimates of wind speed and rainfall accumulation had both increased. Dusk had fallen. It was probably too late to go knocking on the neighbors’ doors and asking what their opinion of the coming storm was. If they were renters, they probably didn’t know any more than she did. Did her “woo-woo” powers predict weather? Abby stilled for a moment to see if she could sense anything, then laughed: no. Ridiculous. She “saw” human experiences, but she couldn’t follow giant weather patterns.

“It’s getting late, Ellie. How about a bath?”

“Do I have to?” Ellie whined, sounding like every other kid Abby had ever babysat for.

“Yes. Look at your feet—they’re gray.”

“All right, I guess,” Ellie grumbled. She followed Abby up the stairs, where they experimented with the vintage bathtub until they could make the spigots produce hot water. The bathroom, like the rest of the house, was spotlessly clean, and well supplied with fluffy bath towels, soap and a variety of bubble baths, which Ellie seized on quickly. It didn’t take long to fill the tub, with more bubbles than water. Ellie was unself-conscious about shucking off her clothes and climbing in, and Abby kept an eye on her, only to make sure she didn’t slip. She wondered idly if Leslie had packed enough clothes for a week or more, or if she’d have to find a way to do laundry. Maybe someone had hidden a tidy stackable washer/dryer in the house somewhere? There was no basement, since they were so close to sea level, but there were probably closets she hadn’t explored yet.

Finally Ellie, clad in an oversized tee shirt, was tucked into bed with a book. Abby kissed her on the forehead and went back to her own room, where she tried for a while to read. Once again her concentration failed her, so she decided to take a quick shower and go to bed herself. As she passed Ellie’s room, she could see that the light was off.

The wind picked up during the night, loud enough to wake Abby. She lay listening for a while. There was a loose shutter somewhere—she wasn’t sure whether it was on their house or a neighbor’s, but it swung back and forth, hitting the side of whichever house. Abby was startled when Ellie suddenly appeared and slipped into bed beside her. “Scary,” was all she said. Abby didn’t protest; she was glad of the human company, not that the two of them could do any more together than Abby could on her own. Still, having that small warm body next to her, trusting her to keep her safe, was oddly comforting. Abby listened while Ellie’s breathing slowed as she fell asleep quickly.

After a while Abby realized she was picking up something else, apart from the new sounds of the approaching storm: that odd feeling both she and Ellie had experienced when they arrived was back, and if anything, it seemed stronger. She could feel it in her chest now. Someone was—or had been—very unhappy here, in this house. She had no way of knowing who, which led her to two conclusions: this person was somehow related to her, because she didn’t pick up any old random emotions, no matter how intense; and she needed the visual cue to identify whoever it was. She wasn’t inside the person’s head, but watching from the outside. She couldn’t read their thoughts, but she could feel what waves of emotion they were sending out. There was another odd sound, and it took a moment for Abby to realize that it could be a sob. From a woman. She waited, staring into the dark, but it didn’t come again. There was no point in getting up and searching for the source; it was dark, and besides, she’d have to disturb Ellie, and she didn’t want to do that. She lay there, waiting and listening, until somehow she fell asleep.

Things outside had gotten worse when Abby pried her eyes open in the morning. Ellie was still asleep, and Abby was reluctant to wake her.
Let her sleep—who knows what’s going to happen today?
she told herself. Slowly she remembered what she’d felt the night before, when she was falling asleep. A crying woman? Here, in this pleasant summer community? Well, people could be miserable anywhere, she supposed, even on vacation. But she couldn’t feel any remnant of that sadness now. Maybe it was someone who was just passing. Why didn’t she believe that?

Ellie stirred and opened her eyes. “Hello,” she said tentatively.

“Hi,” Abby replied. “In case you’re wondering, you came in during the middle of the night. Were you having trouble sleeping?”

Ellie shook her head. “I don’t think so. But I thought I heard someone crying, outside.”

Abby felt a chill. So Ellie had heard it too. What should she do? She’d already promised herself not to lie to Ellie, except where Ned’s connection was involved. “Ellie,” she said softly, “it sounded like a woman, right?”

Ellie looked up at her, her eyes wide, and nodded.

“Do you, uh, feel her now?”

Ellie’s eyes went blank for a moment, and then she shook her head. “Not right now. What should we do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do we go look for her?”

That was an odd question, although Abby had to admit she wished she could find the woman and comfort her. “I’m not sure how we would do that, Ellie. We can check around the house and see if there’s any sign of her.”

Ellie’s expression changed. “I don’t think she’s real,” she said flatly.

“You mean not alive, not now?” Ellie nodded. Abby sighed. “I agree with you. Do you think she followed us here?” Was she trying to trivialize this?

“No. We’ve talked about that, right? These people we see, they’re stuck in one place. They can’t follow us home or come looking for us.”

“Yes, you’re right. Which means that woman was crying here. Sometime. Does that scare you, Ellie?”