Don't Close Your Eyes (32 page)

There would be no trip to the Saunders house tonight.

At the clinic Natalie often put in eighteen-hour shifts that included performing three or four surgeries. Even after one of these days, she did not feel as tired as she did when she and Lily said good night to the last of the mourners, finished cleaning up the kitchen, coaxed a silent Oliver away from the stereo and into bed, and fixed a pitcher of martinis to take to the big, old-fashioned back porch.

They both kicked off their shoes and relaxed on old, slightly musty chaise longues. “This is the only place in the house Viveca hasn’t remodeled,” Lily said, wiggling her toes. “I remember when Mom bought this furniture for the porch. Ten matching pieces! She was horrified by her extravagance but at the same time so excited. That wasn’t too long before she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.” Lily took a deep breath and added fiercely, “I will never allow Viveca to get rid of this stuff, even if I have to pile it all up in my basement.”

“I’m sure Viveca wouldn’t trash it if she knew how much the furniture means to you.”

Lily gave her a long look. “I asked you not to be sweet and reasonable.”

“I thought I’d give it a try.” Natalie took a sip of the chilled gin and vermouth. “Okay. If she even attempts to remove it, I promise to come and lash myself to this chaise longue. If it goes to the dump, so do I. How’s that?”

Lily burst into laughter. “I appreciate the passion, but it might be wasted. Viveca would have you both hauled off. She doesn’t like you any better than she does me.”

“Does she like any females besides Alison?”

“I think she liked Tam.”

“Really? Did she know Tam didn’t like her?”

“I don’t know. Tam was always polite. Too polite. Viveca had begun to push her around. I wish Tam hadn’t been so gentle. If she’d had more spirit, she would have left Warren and she wouldn’t be dead.”

Natalie tensed slightly but forced herself to sound casual. “I thought you were considering that Alison might have killed Tam.”

“If she did, it was because of Warren. But Dad won’t even consider the idea that she’s guilty. He’s convinced Warren murdered Tam.”

Natalie let silence spin out for a few moments while she and Lily each sipped their drinks and looked at the fireflies glittering around the large lawn. “What do you suppose Alison meant when she said she knew things?” Natalie asked finally.

“Nothing. Alison is crazy.”

“But your father looked so upset.”

Lily flashed her a stormy look. “Of course he was upset! He’s cut to pieces over Tam. Then the day of Tam’s funeral here’s Alison making a scene, trying to kill herself!”

“That suicide attempt was nothing but melodrama.”

“Probably. But she would have hurt herself and she’s Viveca’s daughter and Dad loves Viveca, although why in God’s name I’ll never know and…” Lily wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand like a child. “Tam’s murder did something to Dad, Natalie. I mean, of course he’s devastated with grief, but he’s also just different. I can’t explain how. I do know he’ll never be the same.”

“No one is the same after suffering a tragedy.”

“You don’t understand what I mean.”

But Natalie did understand. Tamara had not died in a car wreck or of a disease. She had been viciously murdered, causing something fundamental in Oliver Peyton to change. Was he now capable of murder, too? Is that what Lily was saying?

Lily swiped at more tears. Natalie believed if she pushed her any further, she would fall apart. “I hope you’re not going in to work tomorrow, Lily.”

“I am. I can’t bear sitting around by myself all day.”

“We could do something.”

“I need to go back to the store, Natalie. I need my routine.”

“You look exhausted, but I won’t argue with you. Work is the best panacea for some people.” Lily didn’t answer, her mind clearly elsewhere. “I think I’ll go home now. I’m tired.”

Lily forced a wan smile. “Thanks for your help today and all through this.”

“We’re friends. I’m always here for you.”

Natalie left Lily sitting on the porch having a second martini. When she got in her car, though, she realized that in spite of her fatigue, she didn’t want to go home and thresh out the day with her father. She felt like driving.

The night was cool but still held a note of summer’s sultriness. Natalie rolled down the car windows and listened to music as she cruised through the quiet streets of Port Ariel. In winter the downtown section was deserted at night. In summer many stores stayed open and tourists peppered the sidewalks. She noticed three standing in front of the beautifully lighted bay window of Curious Things. Farther down the block a few people trailed into Trudy’s Diner. Probably locals, Natalie thought. Tourists liked the more expensive restaurants along the shore, although the food was no better and not so plentiful.

After a while she glanced at the car clock and was surprised to see she’d been driving in a big circle for forty-five minutes. Someone would surely call the police to report a car repeatedly driving by. Besides, she was getting sleepy.

On her way home, Natalie passed The Blue Lady. She slowed down, staring at the big, dark pavilion. “I don’t want to be alone anymore, Natalie,” she remembered the eerie, disembodied voice saying with a note of threat. “I want you to join me.”

She shivered. Who would have hidden in the dance pavilion and threatened her in Tamara’s voice? Clearly it couldn’t have been Jeff Lindstrom. He could only have enlisted the aid of someone else. Who? That light, lovely voice. She’d already considered Alison. Her voice had the same pitch as Tam’s and she’d been around Tamara enough to know how she sounded. Who else could it have been? Dee Fisher, whom her father had accused of stealing drugs and Viveca had suggested as a murder suspect? Natalie vaguely remembered Dee from high school. She’d always been surly and unfriendly. Natalie had barely spoken to her then and had no idea what her voice would sound like now. Maybe she could make it sound like Tamara’s.

And of course there was Lily. Who better to imitate Tam’s voice but her twin sister? But that was impossible. Why on earth would Lily want to scare her?

She shook her head as if she could shake away the confusion and turned into the driveway. It was empty and the open garage door showed that it was empty inside, too. Her father wasn’t home. Earlier he had called Lily and told her he’d given Alison a mild sedative. She was sleeping at home. He wouldn’t still be at Viveca’s, Natalie thought. Maybe Ruth’s. She smiled, trying to think of how he would explain himself if he spent the night. She wouldn’t make it easy on him in the morning. She would ask a lot of questions and demand answers, turning the tables. She could almost see him red-faced and stumbling for words, then blustering in outrage.

Natalie climbed from the car and walked to the front door, taking in a deep breath of lake-scented air. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the moon reflected almost perfectly in the still water. In fact, the night seemed unusually quiet, almost breathless, as if it were waiting for something to happen. Something cold and dark settled in Natalie’s chest and the nerves along her neck tingled. Something didn’t feel right.

Ridiculous. This wasn’t The Blue Lady. This was home. She was just tired and her imagination was running away with her. Still, she jangled her keys, trying to find the one

that usually came immediately to her fingers. She looked over her shoulder again. A long stretch of empty lawn ran downhill to the moon-silvered water. No one walked along the shore. No sounds or lights came from Harvey Coombs’s house a hundred yards away. Nothing was strange, yet she was frightened. She felt as if something in the dark watched and hungered.

Hungered! What had brought that word to mind?

Beads of perspiration were popping out on her forehead when she swung open the door. “Blaine?” she called shrilly. The dog usually raced to greet her. Tonight there was no sign of her. “Blaine!” Quickly she stepped inside, slammed the door and locked it.

“Lock the bad thing out,” she muttered breathlessly, then closed her eyes. What was she saying? She sounded like a child. Still, her palms slicked with perspiration and her heart raced.

Finally her cold fingers found the switch for the entrance hall light. She flipped it on and gasped. At her feet lay the black dress she had worn to the wake last night, ripped and torn into an almost unrecognizable mass of cloth. Beside it was a small pool of red. She bent and touched it, then sniffed her finger. The coppery smell of blood.

“Blaine!” she called loudly, springing up on shaking legs. “Blaine, where are you?”

A trail of red spots down the hall toward the bedrooms. Natalie took a few more hesitant steps. Her shoe touched a broken picture frame. She picked it up. The glass was shattered. Inside the twisted frame were scratched remains of a photo of her and the dog Clytemnestra that had sat in her father’s study for over twenty years. In the photo her eyes had been gouged out. Just like Tam’s, she thought in frozen horror.

A calm, distant voice told her she should turn and leave the house immediately. The voice of reason. Instead she followed the spots of blood like one hypnotized, certain they led to Blaine. Was the dog merely injured? Or was she dead?

Pain shot through Natalie at the thought of the gentle,

amber-eyed dog lying motionless as her life drained from a slit throat. Anger followed the pain, white-hot fury at someone who would come into this house and hurt—

She halted in her bedroom doorway, her gaze flashing to the flickering on her vanity. Four fat candles threw wavering yellow light around the room.

On the bed lay her silk kimono, carefully spread without a wrinkle, the sash tied in a neat bow. At the neck of the kimono rested a clean, hollow-eyed human skull, a fresh red rose caught between its clenched, yellowed teeth.

Natalie stood transfixed for what seemed an endless time. Then she snapped back to reality. She turned on the overhead light, blew out the candles, and called police headquarters. Then she unlocked her suitcase, withdrew the gun she’d promised Nick she wouldn’t use, and went in search of Blaine.

She felt eerily composed as she moved slowly down the hall, passed through the seldom-used dining room, and crossed the living room, flipping on lamps as she went. When she came to the sliding glass doors leading to the terrace, she turned on the outside lights and finally drew a deep breath.

Blaine stood chained to the metal lamp pole. A muzzle covered her face. She trembled and crouched in fear.

Natalie covered her hand with the edge of her suit jacket so she wouldn’t disturb fingerprints and pushed open the door. She rushed to the dog, removing the muzzle that was much too tight, then hugged her and murmured to her as she ran expert hands over the dog’s body searching for injury. Blaine winced when Natalie touched her left side. She didn’t believe a rib was broken, but perhaps it was cracked or bruised. The dog must have put up a struggle, although there was no blood around the mouth. Apparently she hadn’t bitten anyone.

“I’m so sorry,” Natalie crooned. “I wish you could tell me who did this to you.”

Blaine jerked and looked over Natalie’s shoulder. Natalie grabbed the gun and still crouched, spun and aimed.

“Natalie!” Andrew St. John froze. “My God, what’s going on here?”

Natalie lowered the gun. “We’ve had an intruder.”

Andrew gazed at the gun. “Where did you get that thing?”

“I’ve had it for a few months. Don’t worry—I know how to use it.”

“That’s exactly what does worry me. You handle the damned thing like it’s second nature to you. Natalie, I hate guns. Do you know what a bullet can do to the body?”

“Yes. I also know what a long-bladed razor can do to the body. Someone has slashed three throats lately. I’m not going to apologize for arming myself.” Andrew continued to stare at the gun. “I’ve called the police.”

“Yes, that was the right thing to do. There’s blood in the hallway, you know. Come in out of the cold.” It wasn’t cold but Andrew looked slightly dazed. Blood in the hall, his daughter pointing a .38 at him. It had been too much, Natalie thought. He nodded at the gun. “Put that thing away before the police get here, or you might get in trouble.”

She’d already been in trouble over the gun, but she couldn’t tell her father about the night when Nick found her in The Blue Lady. “I’m not going to put it away. I have a permit for it,” Natalie said casually, “and I’m not sure someone isn’t still in the house.”

Her father grew motionless. “Still in the house?”

“I didn’t check every room, Dad. I just went back to my bedroom and then in search of Blaine.”

“That was very foolish of you. You should have run out of the house as soon as you saw the mess in the hall.”

“Dad, before I came in I had a feeling I was being watched. Harvey and his wife aren’t home—no one would have heard me if I’d screamed. I got inside as fast as I could and locked the door behind me. Once I saw the havoc in the house, I went for my gun.”

“You went for your gun. Dear God.”

“Dad, the fact that I have a gun is hardly the big problem here.” Natalie stood up. “Someone has invaded our home.”

“I should never have left you alone.”

“Have you been with Alison all this time?”

“No. I sedated her and left her sound asleep. Then I went back to the hospital to check on some patients.” He paused. “The blood in the hall and the shredded clothes and picture. Is that all the damage?”

“Well, there’s a skull with a flower in its teeth on my bed.”

“A skull? A real skull? A human skull?”

“It’s human and I’m fairly sure it’s real.”

“Natalie, how can you act so calm?” Andrew finally thundered. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong with me. Would you be happier if I were standing here shrieking my head off?” Andrew slowly shook his head. “I will never understand you if I live to be a hundred.” A car pulled into the driveway. He looked out the window. “Not the police. No light bar flashing on top.”