Winds of terror (10 page)

He leaned forward and looked at her. His eyes were warm and shining, as though he were lookiag at a person he liked and admired very much. "Melanie, I'd like nothing better than to be behind the wheel of a racing car everyday of my life, and, if it hadn't been for the accident, I'd be doing that right now. But since coming to Beecher House, I've realized that I owe it to my father

to avenge the injustice he suflfered. Tm in no hurry to leave until I settle a few things."

She blinked at him. "I don't understand. You think Addie should leave the plantation to you . .. ?"

He leaned back, a shadow crossing his eyes. "Let's just say that there are a few accounts to be settled and let it go at that, shall we?"

She sat at his feet, her eyes studying his face as she tried to figure out just what he had meant. Suddenly, he moved forward again, and this time he grasped her shoulders and pulled her to him, his lips coming down on hers in a warm, smoldering kiss. For an instant, she was stunned. How long had it been since a man—any man but Robert—had kissed her? She had forgotten the feel of a man's lips upon hers, the emotions it could stir within her body. Her arms circled his neck, and she raised herself up on her knees to fervently return the kiss.

He released her, and there were no sounds save those which nature provides for those who take time to listen: the wind whistling through tall pines; the humming of crickets; the croaking of a bullfrog nearby; and birds singing happily. A beautiful day ... a delightful moment . . . for two souls had united in an awareness of each other. Melanie felt that great, overpowering sensation a woman never forgets once she has experienced it—the thrill of love beckoning. ^

"I think I've wanted to do that since I first met you,* ^ Cale admitted with a shy smile. "I think I'm falling in love with you, Melanie, but I don't want that to happen— not now, not yet. I want you to go away and leave this place, and someday, I'll come to you."

She shook her head as though to clear it. He couldn't really be saying that he wanted her to leave.

"But why? If you think you love me, why would you want me to leave, Cale? I could help you with exercises, spend time with you, and we'd learn things about each other . . ." She was close to tears and she did not understand why. She had not admitted, even to herself, that she might be falling in love with him, too. But now she had to admit it, for it was true.

"Melanie, I wish I could explain the way I feel to you," he sighed, "but it's too personal to share. I just wish you would leave. Things are going on in that house

that I can't discuss, things I hope you never find out about..."

She gasped. "Cale, you don't believe that house is haunted, do you? I mean, you don't believe Aunt Addie's ramblings about Todd's coming to her in the night, do you?"

He closed his eyes, as though trying to think of the right words without conveying thoughts he did not want to share with anyone just yet. Then he looked straight into her eyes and said in a serious tone: "Melanie, I just want you to leave. If you care for me at all you will pack your things and leave the house. Mark will manage with Grandmother. It won't be long now, anyway, and I don't want you here when it happens . . ." His voice trailed off. He looked perplexed, as though he feared perhaps he had said too much.

"Won't be long until what?" Melanie cried. "Until Addie dies? Is that what you mean?" She stared at him, shocked, and a bit frightened.

"I didn't say that." Cale sounded annoyed. Then he sighed once again and shook his head. "Maybe it's time we went back, Melanie. We've been gone almost all afternoon. It's getting kind of late, and I don't want to talk anymore."

"Very well.'*

She got to her feet and began packing the basket silently.

"This would sure be a great fishing hole,*' Cale commented, watching another catfish rise above the water.

It was obvious that he wanted to change the subject, but he needn't have bothered; Melanie was suflSciently miffed that she would not ask him any more questions. But that wouldn't stop her from satisfying her curiosity. She would sound out other sources for the answers she needed, and she wouldn't give up until she had them.

And now, her curiosity was building up to a fever pitch. Why did Cale profess to love her in one breath only to beg her to leave in the next? And what was it that he suspected would not be long in happening? Why wasn't he more concerned about having to spend the best years of his life in a wheelchair in a decaying old house with a cantankerous old woman? And exactly what was it that he felt needed avenging on his father's behalf?

And Mark! Mark was another mystery. When they were

young, she and her cousin had always gotten along well together. Oh, she knew how his brother, his twin, had deviled him and lied and schemed to cause trouble for all those around him. But she and Mark had seemed to understand each other, and they enjoyed themselves when they were together. What had happened to change all that? Surely, she reasoned, nothing stays the same, but ever since her arrival, ever since she let it be known she had come to Beecher House to live and not just for a visit, Mark had seemed hostile and cold. It was still terribly hard to believe that he had kicked Butch. And why was Butch trying so hard to get into a room that had been sealed for almost fifteen years?

Nothing made any sense. Not even Aunt Addle. She knew the old woman was cranky and mean and hard to get along with; she always had been. But crazy? Impossible. The woman was as sharp as a tack. So what was the story behind her thinking Todd had come back from the grave to take her with him? Was Mark possessed? Or did Cale know something that none of them knew or suspected? Had Todd become a restless spirit? Was he lurking in the shadows of the old house? Had it actually been Todd who kicked Butch and not Mark? Or was Mark, at the time, possessed by his twin? Was Mark, in his greed to gain control and possession of the plantation, becoming as mean and cunning as his dead twin had been?

There were so many unanswered questions—and Mel-anie wanted the answers. Somehow, she knew her whole future—and Cale's—depended on the answers. Surely, it was much too soon to think about love and romance and marriage to another man, but one day the time would be right. And if things worked out, perhaps Cale would be the man in her life. She could feel herself falling in love with him, slowly but surely. Yet she did not want to rush into anything; she wanted things to fall into place naturally.

It wasn't too difficult getting Cale back into the car. He could help himself a lot when he wanted to, she realized. They rode back to Beecher House in silence. When they pulled up to the colunmar front porch, she said, "IH get someone to help get you out and up the steps.'*

Cale leaned across the seat and clutched her arm. "Mel-anie, I don't want you angry with me, and I can tell that

you are. I'm sorry I can't go into a lot* of details with you. It would just be best if you were to leave. Can't you trust me?"

She removed his hand gingerly from her arm and faced him, making her voice strong and sure and positive. "Get this straight, Cale, once and for all. I promised my mother I'd look after Aunt Addie if she ever needed me, so that's what I'm doing. It's a promise I made and one that I intend to keep, and neither you nor a houseful of ghosts and evil spirits is going to run me off Now can you understand that?"

He nodded and then asked quietly, "But what about us? Do you care for me at all? I have no right ro ask you for anything now, the way I am, but someday .,."

"Someday . . ." She smiled. "For now, I think we both have a job to do. When it's accomplished, we can think about our someday."

He watched her get out and walk around the car and disappear beyond the end of the house. She was pretty girl, a sweet and wholesome girl with whom he was falling in love. But why did she have to become a part of all this evil? Why did she have to fall right into the middle of it and refuse to get out while there was still time? It wasn't the way he had planned things—^no, it wasn't the way,he'd planned it at all. And now that it was time to act, he'd have to alter a few of his plans. He would have to do so quickly... before Melanie got hurt.

Chapter 9

Melanbe met Mark as he was walking across the rear yard, coining from the direction of the cotton fields. He wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, but his eyes were squinted against the late afternoon sun, and his arms were becoming darkly tanned. There were field hands to chop the choking weeds from the tender young cotton plants, but someone had to be around to make sure those hands worked steadily. Mark's job as overseer was not an easy one.

"Have fun?" he said in greeting, using a tone that implied he couldn't care less whether she had or hadn't Without waiting for an answer, he snapped, "I suppose Auntie has been ringing that bell of hers all afternoon, wondering where you were."

"I told her I was going on a picnic," Melanie replied with annoyance. She waved to one of the workers, and he started over towards her.

She turned back to Mark who was almost inside the back door now. "Mark, have you seen Butch? I couldn't find him when I left earlier."

He glared at her and shook his head. Then he went inside, slamming the door behind him. He wasn't the same person, she thought, staring after him; he wasn't the boy she had known and loved as a child.

She hurried towards the field hand approaching her and asked him to please help Cale into the house. He nodded obligingly, and she moved on to where the other workers were coming up out of the fields to head home. She wandered about, asking the workers if any of them had seen Butch. The evening before, he had been

seen running through the fields, but no one had seen Butch all day. An icy chill crawled up and down Mel-anie's spine. She walked around the yard calling his name, but there was no sign of the black-and-white spotted terrier that she loved so much.

She looked up and saw Mark standing on the back porch, at the wooden railing, yelling, "Aunt Addie is ringing that infernal bell! Will you please go to her?"

Melanie abandoned her search and hurried inside and up the stairs. Aunt Addie was quite annoyed at having been neglected all afternoon. She wanted her back rubbed immediately, and whined about how mistreated she was. She asked to have the day's newspaper read to her, complaining that her eyes seemed more tired than usual.

Melanie did all these things without protest, and, finally, she broke away from the old woman to resume her search for Butch before it got dark. She was walking down the hallway when Addie called out sharply, "Would you hurry with my supper? I was forced to eat my lunch quite early today, you know."

Shaking her head in frustration, Melanie ran downstairs. She had planned to make meat loaf, but that would take too long now, and she took out a large can of tuna and hurriedly made a salad. It would have to do, she thought as she arranged the tray. Tomorrow, there would be sufficient time to prepare something tastier— tomorrow, when her mind would be at ease—after she found Butch.

Aunt Addie didn't seem too displeased about the supper tray that was set before her. Melanie figured it was the sUce of chocolate cake left over from the picnic that did it. The old woman was always complaining of never having any sweets on her tray.

"Aren't you going to stay and talk to me while I eat?" Aunt Addie asked as Melanie hurried towards the door.

"Butch just never runs away like this, and I must find him. I'm afraid he's lost," Melanie explained quickly.

Aunt Addie nodded with understanding. "I'm sure he's about. Probably just chasing a rabbit or something."

When Melanie returned to the kitchen, Cale was seated at the table eating the cold plate she had prepared for him. He had only to glance at her face and he knew. "You haven't found your dog yet, have you?"

"I'm going to look for him now," she said. "Cale, it

just isn't like Butch to stay away like this. Something must have happened to him!"

•'I wish I could help you, Melanie. I know how much the dog means to you."

She smiled affectionately. "Just knowing that you feel that way is enough, Cale.**

It was twilight. The yard was bathed in a dim pinkish-gray light. Melanie scurried about, checking everywhere that Butch might be. Perhaps he'd gotten tired and fallen asleep, she told herself. Or maybe he was sick, too sick to move. With each step, Melanie became more fearful that she would not find the dog.

Within a half hour, she had covered the entire yard and all the other places—the tool sheds, the chicken house, two storage sheds—^where she thought he might be. Now darkness engulfed her world. Straight ahead of her loomed the big old red bam in all its ominous ugliness. She shivered. She had not gone into the bam much as a child. That was where Todd liked to play.

Her mouth felt dry and her lips quivered. The bam was the place where Todd had killed himself. Melanie had deliberately stayed away from the bam since her arrival at the plantation. Now she closed her eyes and pictured Todd swinging from a rope, his head at a grotesque angle, his lips parted in a final sneer at the world.

She shook herself. It was the only place left to search. She was being childish, she told herself. Surely, she did not believe in ghosts I With a determination that she did not really feel, she walked straight ahead, pulled open the large wooden doors of the bam and stepped inside. She went immediately to the nearby shelf where she remembered a flashlight was kept.

She shined the flashlight beam around. There were three mules quartered in stalls along the left. Once, Uncle Bartley had kept his prize Tennessee walking mares there, but that was long ago, when the plantation was well-kept and prosperous. Now cobwebs covered the partitions, and everything seemed to be dying and rotting.

The smell of hay and animal odors filled her nose as she wandered about, pointing the beam in front of her. She was very careful not to look up—she did not want to know which beam had held her cousin's hanging body.

She began to move through the stalls. And then she saw it—and the scream that empted from the very depths

of her soul seemed to stick in her throat and choke her before it gushed forth. Dear God! There! There, in the comer lay Butch—dead. His legs were bent beneath him, matted with blood and dirt, as though for a few agonizing seconds, he had pawed and dug into the ground in an attempt to free himself.

Her eyes froze on the head—^that horrible, ghastly head—as she screamed again and again in heartrending terror at the hideous sight. A large trap—the kind used for hunting small animals like beaver or possum or mink —had slammed down upon Butch's head. The steel jaw of the trap had severed his head almost completely. That head! She swayed, desperately trying not to faint as she looked at the bulging eyes, and the gaping mouth smeared with thick, dried blood.

The field hands who found her, huddled on the floor, sobbing wildly, carried her to the house. They met Mark Beecher running towards the bam; he had heard the sounds of her screaming.

Cale was at the back door and he told them to place the sobbing young woman on the sofa. Then he wheeled himself to the downstairs phone and placed a call to Dr. Ambrose. That done, Cale dismissed the workers, rolled himself over to sit beside Melanie. He tried to calm her, but Melanie kept weeping hysterically. It had been too much, too much, seeing her beloved pet that way, his head almost completely severed! And to know that he had died suffering untold agonies! Why? How could it have happened?

Dr. Ambrose arrived in a few minutes. He gave Melanie two little white pills, and had her sip a glass of water while Cale told him what little he knew about what had happened.

From far away, they heard a bell tinkling. Melanie stmggled to sit up, tears trickling down her cheeks.

"I have to go to her," she said, as Cale moved to push her back down on the sofa. "She's probably heard me screaming and she'll be frightened if I don't go to her."

Dr. Ambrose nodded to Cale. "Let her go. It may be good for her to get her mind on something else."

Melanie hurried up the steps. She went into Aunt Addie's room and found the old lady sitting up in bed.

"Just what is going on around here?" she snapped. "First I hear this Godawful screaming, and then people

are coming and going in the house. What's happened? And look at you! Why have you been crying and carrying on?"

Melanie broke down and began sobbing once again. She told the old woman about finding Butch dead, his head caught in a steel trap. "I can't believe it!" she cried. "Butch just can't be dead! He was all I had left of Robert . . . Robert gave him to me . . ." She closed her eyes and lay her head on the edge of the bed and wept quietly, her heart broken.

Then, slowly, as if some secret message had penetrated into the turmoil of her brain, she lifted her head and looked at Aunt Addie incredulously. '*You don't even act as though you care," she said accusingly. "You don't care at all.. ."

"Oh yes, I care, Melanie.** Addie moved to touch the distressed girl's cheek. "I'm just surprised that the trap was in the barn, you see. I remember quite clearly that only a few weeks before Bartley became ill and died, he collected all the steel traps about the farm and put them into his room."

Melanie looked at her, not quite understanding.

"You see," Addie went on, "Bartley used to trap a little bit in the old days. But then, a few weeks before he got sick, Todd set one of the traps. He started killing everything in sight that had four legs—dogs, cats, rabbits, anything—and he didn't care how the animals suffered or whether they belonged to anyone. He just wanted to kill something! Bartley took the traps up and hid them in his room. Oh, it was a wicked thing for Todd to have done!

"Well, Uncle Bartley must have left one trap set that no one knew about all these years, and poor Butch had to get caught in that one!"

Addie stiffened and looked at Melanie's wide eyes, red froiii so much crying. "My dear, don't you see? Butch didn't just stumble into that trap! How could it have been baited after all these years even if it were forgotten? Don't you see?"

Again, Melanie could only blink at the old woman, wondering what was coming next.

*Todd killed your dog!" Addie declared as though it were such a simple explanation that she wondered why she even had to say it "Todd put Butch in the trap and

killed him. He did it because he doesn't want you here. It was his way of letting you know it. He's afraid that you will try to stop him from murdering me and taking me to his grave with him. Don't you see?"

Now Addie's eyes were bright, as though at last someone was going to have to believe her. "Of course, it wasn't really Todd," she rushed on. "It was Mark. Mark is possessed by Todd's evil spirit. I'm becoming more and more convinced of that each day. I think I'm going to have to call my lawyer in and rewrite my will. They might get some ideas about murdering mer

Melanie gasped, "What do you mean, *they'?"

"Why, Todd and Mark, of course." She looked at Melanie as though the young woman would have to be quite dumb not to have figured that out for herself.

Melanie stayed with Addie until the old woman got drowsy enough to lie back in her bed and close her eyes. Then she tiptoed back downstairs, feeling sleepy herself. The pills Dr. Ambrose had given her were doing their job.

She found the doctor in the parlor with Cale, and, now, Mark had joined them. When she entered the room, Cale smiled at her, and Mark-jumped to his feet to embrace her. He did so awkwardly but Melanie appreciated his concern.

"Melanie," Mark said, "I am so sorry. I had no idea those traps out there were set."

"Aunt Addie says they couldn't have been out there,** Melanie said slowly, evenly, aware that all eyes were upon her. She took a deep breath and repeated what Addie had said about Mark's being possessed by his evil twin brother.

"Surely, you don't believe that for a second, Melanie!'* Mark exploded. "There! Isn't that proof enough for you that my aunt is really out of her mind?" he cried, turning to Dr. Ambrose. "She needs to be put away, where she can be looked after properly. It isn't fair for Melanie to give up her life for her, and it isn't safe for someone as crazy as Addie to be around normal people."

Cale laughed out loud, and Mark cast blazing eyes upon him, daring him to make a contradictory statement, but Cale wasn't frightened.

"It cramps your style to have my grandmother still legally in charge around here, doesn't it, Mark?" Cale

said. **So you're trying to convince everyone she's crazy so that you can be declared legal guardian and keeper of the estate! Very cozy—if you can pull it off!"

Mark clenched his fists then relaxed them. "If you weren't in that damn wheelchair, I'd make you eat those words," he snarled at Cale, his face contorted with anger and indignation.

"Hey, you two stop that at once," Dr. Ambrose cut in, stepping between them. Mark scowled but Cale merely chuckled again. Mark was a mouse, and Cale knew it. He would never hit him—whether or not he was in a wheelchair. Mark was a coward!

"Addie is still mentally alert to a degree," the doctor said carefully. "Of course, the stroke makes her seem a little slower in her thinking, but I can't see that her wild ideas about Todd's coming back from the dead make her mentally incompetent. If we were all declared incompetent because of wild ideas, the whole world would most likely be locked away. We all have our flings of imagination."

He stood up to leave, handing Melanie a bottle of the white pills. "My dear, I am sorry about the loss of your pet, but it was just an unfortunate accident. I'd like for you to take one of these at bedtime; it will help you to sleep soundly. You look a bit run-down and tired. You'd better stop chasing up and down those steps doing your aunt's bidding. She'll wear you out if you let her."

As Mark walked the doctor to the door, Cale reached out and caught Melanie by the wrist and pulled her close to him. "Take me upstairs, please," he whispered. "I want to talk to you.

She wks afraid that once Mark said goodnight to the doctor, he would return to the parlor, intent on continuing his argument with Cale. But she needn't have worried, for Mark hurried right by the door and disappeared.

Once they were in Cale's room with the door closed behind them, he looked at her intently and said: "Now, Melanie, I want you to listen to me carefully. I've seen a lot of strange things going on around here, and this incident tonight with your dog convinces me that you should leave at once. I think Dutch's death was a warning to you."

She looked at Cale blankly. Did Cale think Butch had

been deliberately killed? If so, by whom? Surely, Mark would not do such thing. Still, she had seen him kick the dog viciously and she would never have thought him capable of that, either. He had seemed angry with the dog for scratching at the door of the sealed room, and he had deliberately gotten Aunt Addie upset at breakfast by telling her Melanie wanted to open the sealed room to find out what Butch was barking at.

"Melanie, I'm dead serious." Cale's voice grew sterner. "Something evil is present in this house, something I don't quite imderstand myself, and I want you out of here at once."

"You think Mark is possessed?" she whispered, frightened.

He shrugged, annoyed that she didn't seem to comprehend the real purpose of the conversation. "It doesn't matter what / think, dont you see? I just want you to get out of here as soon as possible. And don't hand me that deathbed story again about your promise to your mother to take care of Addie. My grandmother isn't important now—^you are! I want you to leave here at once. It's no place for a young woman."

Melanie shook her head resolutely. "Cale, I don't believe that Mark is possessed and neither do you. Nor do I believe that Todd is returning from the dead to do all these horrible things, like kill Butch and scare Addie to death. Why are you trying to get rid of me, really? If it's all that dangerous around here, why don't you leave yourself?"

"I told you, I've got some scores of my own to settle," Cale said, sounding as though he were having diflSculty controlling his anger. He was almost positive he was in love with the sweet-faced, wide-eyed girl, and he only wanted her safety. How could he explain to her the unspeakable secret of the old house? How could he tell her she was about to be overpowered by it if she stayed? He understood, or felt pretty sure that he understood, the evil spirits about, and he also felt in control of them. But it was dangerous for Melanie, very dangerous, indeed. Only he could not make her realize the true concern for her that was behind his warnings without betraying himself—and he couldn't do that!

He hoped the smile he mustered, as he reached out to hold both of her hands, looked genuine. "Look. I'll stay

in touch with you after you leave. We can write every day. One day, before long, Fll come to you, and maybe if we really love each other we can have a future together. Right now, I just want you out of here, Melanie. Can't you understand that?"

She snatched her hands away, shocked. Yes, she had felt that she was falling in love with Cale, but now she wondered if she would ever really know him or understand him. How could he expect her to simply pack her things and walk out, and leave Aunt Addie alone with two men—one in a wheelchair and barely able to take care of his own needs and the other full of hostility and resentment?

She closed her eyes briefly; the pills were making her drowsy. It had been a long day, and she was still terribly upset over the tragic death of her dog. She opened her eyes and looked at Cale, who was watching her anxiously. 'Well talk tomorrow," she said. "I don't frighten easily, Cale, and I certainly don't believe in ghosts or demons or the prattle of an old woman. But most important of all, I don't run away from anything. If Butch were killed on purpose, then I intend to find out who did it—and why."

"Melanie, you're only asking for trouble." Cale turned his chair around and rolled himself behind her as she headed for the door. "None of this hei'e really concerns you, you know."

She paused to kiss his cheek briefly, then hurried from the room and down the hall to her own chamber. She closed the door behind her, then locked it.

A few moments later, Melanie was in bed, the covers pulled up securely about her. She felt so sleepy, so relaxed .. . that she almost didn't hear the footsteps.

She sat up, holding the covers about her, and stared into the darkness in the direction of the locked door. She shook her head from side to side, trying to ward off the heavy stupor that the pills had induced. The footsteps ceased, and her heart quickened as she heard the gentle turning of the doorknob. She opened her mouth to ask who was there, but no sound came. In the silence, she shivered and drew her feet up beneath her, trying to muster the energy to scream.

There was no other sound. She waited. She had not heard the footsteps depart, so whoever it was had to be

out there still. She willed her stiffened legs out of bed and onto the floor, and, trembling all over, she moved, quietly, to the door. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened. There v^as no sound coming from the other side.

She switched on the light in her room, and looked about feverishly. The lamp—the tall, heavy brass lamp— a perfect weapon. Holding the lamp above her head, she moved to unlock the door and swing it open. She stood ready to bring the lamp crashing down ...

No one was there! She almost dropped the lamp in her surprise, and her heart was thudding now. She leaned forward, peering out into the hall from left to right She saw no one! The hall was deserted—she could see by the small night light burning just outside the bathroom— emptyl