The Coffin (Nightmare Hall) (11 page)

“I wish you’d quit being so dramatic.” Sandy continued. “You’re scaring me.”

“Good!” Jodie cried. “Maybe if I scare you, you’ll listen to me. I’m making sense, Sandy. We can’t just wish this one away, the way you usually do.”

“Look,” Vince said, “this isn’t getting us anywhere. Why don’t we try to contact Tanner’s dad? That shouldn’t be too hard. Someone at Butler Hall will know where he is. And if Tanner’s not with him, her father will tell us how to contact her mother, right? That way, when Charlie wakes up, we’ll have news for him. We can tell him exactly where Tanner is before he’s discharged tomorrow. It’ll be good for him.”

“If,”
Jodie said darkly, “Tanner really
is
with one of her parents. And I, personally, don’t believe that she is.”

But she went with them to the administration building, as anxious as the rest of them to get some answers. They were given Dr. Leo’s number in Hawaii, and moved out into the lobby to make the call, using Sloane’s credit card. He placed the call.

He hung up, disappointment on his handsome face, a minute or so later. “Not at his hotel,” he announced glumly. “On another island somewhere, can’t be reached. They said he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.”

Jodie frowned. “You didn’t talk very long. Did you tell them how important it was?”

Sloane glared at her. “Yes, Joellen, I did.”

They stood around the telephone, lost in gloom for several minutes before Jodie lifted her head and said, “I think I know why Charlie went to Tanner’s house. I think he was planning to break in.”

That shocked all of them into open-mouthed stares.

“No, I think he was. Listen …” She told them what the campus security officer had said about not beginning an investigation because there was no sign of forced entry at the Tanner house. “So, I think Charlie was planning to fake a break-in and,” Jodie added eagerly, “I think it’s a great idea. If we go over there and break a window or something, nothing major, just make it look like someone might have been trespassing, the police will investigate. It’s the only way we’re going to get them to do something before the seventy-two hours is up.” She looked at her friends pleadingly. “Seventy-two hours is an awfully long time, guys. Anything could happen to Tanner in seventy-two hours.”

“You are
not
breaking into that house, Jodie,” Sandy said firmly. You’ll get arrested and get thrown out of school, maybe even sent to jail.” She shuddered at the thought.

“No, I won’t. If I get caught, I’ll just throw myself on the mercy of the police, explain to them that I’m worried sick about Tanner. They’ll understand. Anyway, before the police get there I can hunt for a phone number for Tanner’s mother, right?”

“Joellen,” Sloane warned, shaking his head, “this is too risky. It’s crazy. None of us are detectives. And if you
are
right about Charlie trying it first, well, look what happened to him.” He waved a hand toward Charlie’s cubicle. “You want to end up in here, too? I’m telling you, stay away from that house.”

“Well, you guys could come with me,” Jodie said innocently. “What are friends for?”

“Not me,” Sandy said, shaking her head, her hands up in mock self-defense. “I’m not going near that place. I don’t think Tanner is there at all; I think she’s with her mother in Bangkok or Hong Kong or Singapore, wherever. Anyway, I’m not playing detective. And you shouldn’t be, either, Jodie. You’re going to get yourself in a mess of trouble.”

Vince said awkwardly, “Look, Jodie, if you really think something has happened to Tanner, you have to let the police handle it. That’s what they’re for.”

Close to tears, Jodie protested, “But they’re
not
handling it. They’re not doing anything.”

“They will,” Philip said quietly, patting her shoulder.

Jodie jerked away. “Okay, never mind then! Forget I ever said anything.” She began backing away from them, her lips tightly pressed together. “You guys can do whatever you want. I’m going to … class.”

“Jodie …” Philip said softly. “Come on, don’t be mad.”

But Jodie turned on her heel and, head high, shoulders stiff, hurried down the hall to the exit and disappeared, slamming the door behind her.

Had her friends exited just behind her instead of going back in to check on Charlie one more time before leaving the infirmary, none of the four would have been surprised to see Jodie head not back across campus, but straight toward Faculty Row and Dr. Milton Frederick Leo’s brick house.

T
ANNER HAD NO SENSE
of passing time as she lay on the floor in the music room. The cuckoo emerged every hour on the hour, but she stopped listening to the shrill sound after a while, uncaring. What difference did it make what time it was, when she wasn’t going anywhere? Not to class, not to orchestra practice, not to Vinnie’s for pizza or Burgers Etc. for lunch, not to a dance or a movie or the mall. She wasn’t leaving this room. Not as long as
he
had anything to say about it.

She knew she must be a horrendous sight. She’d been sweating in that booth, and didn’t have a comb. Her hair was matted on her shoulders. Her eyes felt swollen, her feet were streaked with dried blood. They were beginning to hurt and she knew she should check to see how deep the cuts were, but that seemed like far too much effort. Besides, what could she do about it?

I want a bath, she thought fiercely, lying on her stomach, her head resting on her arms. The cuckoo came and went again, but Tanner failed to notice. I want a bath and a shampoo and I want clean clothes, maybe a nice, soft pair of jeans and my new red sweater. Charlie’s going to love that sweater. He’s crazy about red.

Charlie … fresh tears stung Tanner’s eyes. She fought them back. How seriously had Charlie been hurt? Was he even … was he even alive? Oh, yes, yes, Charlie had to be alive, of course he was. Charlie couldn’t be … dead. Not possible. Unbearable, thinking of Charlie not being alive. But what had happened to him that put him on that stretcher, in that ambulance? What?

If only she’d been in the music room when it happened, she would have seen the whole thing. But she’d been in the kitchen. Or maybe she’d already come back here by then, but had fallen asleep. Either way, she’d hadn’t seen Charlie’s accident.

Tanner pushed herself up on her elbows. What was it she’d been doing in the kitchen? Why had Sigmund let her out of the music room? She couldn’t remember. Her stomach ached with hunger pangs, so she knew she hadn’t eaten. Then why had they gone to the kitchen in the first place? And why couldn’t she remember leaving the kitchen to come back here?

Suddenly, she saw the scrap of gaudy, inexpensive fabric covered with flowers in harsh rust and brilliant yellow, waving before her eyes like a flag, teasing, tantalizing, hanging somewhere …

Hanging where? Where had she seen that flag of fabric?

Tanner sat up, resting her back against the couch. She remembered the pattern, knew that it was part of an outfit that Silly had made. Why was she thinking of that now? She had barely asked herself the question when the memory returned, flooding back to her, unwelcome as debris brought back in with the tide. She saw it all, in one horrible, vivid image that slammed into Tanner, knocking her backward against the couch, and stealing the breath from her body. She cried out in pain and terror, her hands flying to her mouth, her eyes filled with horror.

That plump, freckled wrist, laden with inexpensive silver bangles, in the freezer, turning bluish-white …

Silly hadn’t left early. She hadn’t left the house at all.

She was still here.

“Oh, God!” Tanner cried, throwing her head back, covering her eyes with her hands, “oh, God, no, not Silly! He wouldn’t have, he couldn’t have …

But she knew that he had.

And as she cried for the loss of Silly, Tanner knew why, when she had been struggling with Sigmund for control of the freezer lid, it had hit her, suddenly and without explanation, that he was capable of killing. She hadn’t seen Silly yet, hadn’t known, but some inner, sixth sense had warned her. Had told her the awful, unbelievable truth.

Now she believed it, with all her heart and soul.

He was capable of killing. He had already killed.

And he was coming back.

Why, why,
why?
she screamed silently, and then immediately asked herself if it really mattered why. Did it? Was the reason worth anything? Would it change anything to know why he was doing this? Would it bring Silly back?

No. But a reason would at least keep it from being totally senseless, like those random shootings she sometimes saw on television. They always seemed so much worse than a crime of passion involving jealousy or revenge, because the killer never had any reason. He had just felt like killing. Wasted lives, just because some crazy got his hands on a gun.

But this wasn’t that kind of thing, she reminded herself. Because he’d said he knew her father. This was no random attack.

If his anger was toward her father, it didn’t seem at all fair that Silly and Tanner, and now Charlie, had been caught in the crossfire.

Tanner swiped at her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. How many more people would be hurt before this horrible nightmare was over? And how, exactly, was it going to end?

Charlie had been on his way there to look for her when something had happened to him. Did that mean it hadn’t been an accident, after all? Sigmund could have been watching for visitors, and gone out to stop Charlie. Was he going to do that to anyone who came looking for her?

How was she ever going to get out of there?

Resting her head against the back of the couch, Tanner thought despondently how quiet and depressing the house was going to seem without Silly in it, belting out her country songs at the top of her lungs.

Murderer! she thought with fierce rage, clenching and unclenching her hands, digging her nails into her palms until she drew blood. You’re a filthy murderer, Sigmund. Silly never hurt anyone in her entire life. You had no right to kill her. No right, no right …

Tears of fury were sliding down her cheeks when she heard the key turning in the lock. A moment later, the door flew open.

Tanner jumped to her feet and faced him, shaking with more rage than fear. She was too angry to be afraid. “You’re insane!” she shouted, raising her clenched fists to wave them in his face. “No wonder you knew my father! You’re probably the craziest patient he’s ever had in his life!”

In two strides he was at her side, gripping her wrist, twisting it painfully, the rubber mask so close, she could see his bared teeth. They were straight and even and very clean. “Don’t you ever say anything like that to me again!” he hissed, his breath hot on her skin. “You’re a liar, just like your father! I’m not crazy, and I never was. Never, never,
never!”

“Then let me
go!”
Tanner cried, struggling to free her wrist. “This isn’t sane, what you’re doing, keeping me a prisoner in my own home, building that stupid coffin, putting me in there. If you want to prove that you’re not crazy, stop acting like you are and let me out of here!”

Dropping her wrist, he stepped away from her, “Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said calmly, “Not just yet. Not until Papa Bear knows what’s going on.”

“My father? I told you, he can’t afford to pay you ransom.”

“Who said anything about ransom? I don’t need his money. I told you, I just need … satisfaction. I just want him to know that I’m in control here. He said I wasn’t. Wasn’t in control at all, needed someone else to control me, a whole bunch of someone elses. Wrote it down on paper and signed his name.” Sigmund shrugged. “I’m just proving him wrong, that’s all. Showing all of them just exactly how much control I really do have. You’re helping me do it.” He tilted his head. “Isn’t that nice of you? And ironic, don’t you think? That the doctor’s own daughter is helping me prove a point.”

“All you’re doing,” Tanner said with contempt, rubbing her aching wrist, “is proving that my father was
right.
Not that he was wrong.” And, she added silently, if you can’t see that, you’re even crazier than my father thought. But she wasn’t about to utter those words out loud. After the way he’d reacted a minute ago, accusing him again would only prove her as foolish as he was insane.

Humor him, she thought, humor him.

But she never got the chance.

Taking his attention away from her, his eyes swept the room.

Tanner watched in astonishment then as his body tensed and his mouth behind the mask tightened and he began striding back and forth in the area near the grand piano, cursing and shouting. “Look at this mess! What the hell have you been doing in here, young lady? This is disgusting. Glass everywhere, you’ve broken a perfectly good lamp, and these bloodstains will never come out. This beautiful carpet is ruined, just ruined!”

Tanner couldn’t believe what she was seeing and hearing. This … maniacal creature in a grotesque Halloween mask was marching back and forth in her father’s music room, sounding just like her father, and looking like him, in spite of the mask. There was a definite resemblance in the way he marched back and forth, shoulders and spine aligned perfectly, like a wooden soldier. Her father did that when some political issue had made him angry. He waved his arms and shouted, just as Sigmund was doing now.

The resemblance was eerie.

“This isn’t even your house,” Tanner said indignantly. “What do you care what happens to it?”

His head came up. He stopped pacing and raced across the room to her. Grabbing her elbow, he screamed into her face, “How dare you speak to me like that? You have no manners, miss! None whatsoever! You need to be taught a lesson.”

And then, to her horror, he was grasping the neck of her sweatshirt and dragging her straight toward The Booth again.

“No!” she screamed, struggling, fighting him, kicking out with her bloodied feet. “No, don’t put me in there again, I can’t stand it, please, I’ll behave, I promise, just don’t put me in there!” She hated the pleading in her voice, but she hated even more the thought of that dark, airless space. And once inside, she would have no chance, none at all, of escaping him.