The Night Walker (Nightmare Hall) (10 page)

“Tim,” Ivy murmured, “Tim’s still out there. By the fountain. He’s hurt. …” then her eyes closed all the way and her knees buckled.

W
ITH A DAZED
I
VY
lying on Quinn’s bed, Tobie rushed into the bathroom to wet a washcloth, Quinn left to give Suze the bad news, and Meg ran to get a security guard to help her look for Tim.

She came back an hour later, after Ivy had been taken to the infirmary, to tell Tobie and Quinn that Tim had been found, lying on the ground beside the fountain. He was unconscious, and hadn’t revived by the time Meg left the infirmary. Suze had opted to stay there until a distraught Ivy had fallen asleep.

“Ivy said they didn’t see or hear anything,” Meg said wearily, leaning against the door. “We don’t know any more than we did before.”

But Quinn did. For the first time since the attacks had started, she knew positively that she’d had nothing to do with this one. She hadn’t been asleep this time.

And … if she hadn’t had anything to do with
this
attack … then didn’t it seem likely that she hadn’t had anything to do with the others, either?

But there was the matter of the red jacket that smelled of rotten eggs. And the raincoat … the glass in the pockets … and the paint-stained skirt and blouse and shoes. What about those? She couldn’t just ignore them.

Quinn, a rational voice inside her head said sternly,
anyone
could have put those things in your room.
Anyone.

Why hadn’t the thought occurred to her before? She’d been so frightened … so scared that she’d been doing terrible things in her sleep. Why had it never crossed her mind that someone might be trying to make her
think
she’d done those things?

Because the idea was so crazy.

Who would do something like that? And why? Why would someone want her to think she was doing maniacal things?

Cruel. That was so cruel. Almost as bad as the attacks themselves.

But then, someone who would strike another human being’s skull with a hammer wouldn’t balk at pinning his crimes on someone else, would he?

An emotionally exhausted Tobie had fallen sound asleep shortly after Ivy had been taken away. She lay sprawled across the narrow bed, one hand tangled in her mop of red hair.

A wave of sympathy washed over Quinn. Tobie had already been through so much, and now this …

The question now was, she thought as she sat at her desk and turned on the lamp, how many people on campus knew she was a sleepwalker? Had there been other people out in the hall that first night? She hadn’t asked Tobie, but there could have been. For that matter, Simon or Tobie might have accidentally let it slip. Or they could have been discussing it somewhere on campus and been overheard.

She would ask Tobie tomorrow if she had told anyone about her nocturnal habits. Because it seemed painfully clear that her sleepwalking was what made her a target for framing.

The following morning Quinn decided to look for Suze. It was time to find out exactly why Suze had lied to her about fishing Reed’s purse from the wrecked car. What would make Suze lie about something like that?

As Quinn went into the bathroom to shower, it occurred to her that Suze might know she sleepwalked. Tobie might have told her, maybe thinking that Quinn needed more than one keeper, in case Tobie wasn’t around one night. And Suze knew which room was Quinn’s, knew she owned the yellow raincoat, could have come and gone when no one was home. They didn’t always lock their door. In fact, they hardly ever locked it. They’d never seen any reason to lock it.

But then, not only had they not expected anyone at Devereaux to come in and
steal
things, they certainly hadn’t expected anyone to come in and
hide
things.

Suze? It was hard to imagine her doing something as vicious as slugging someone over the head with a hammer.

Well, hey, it was hard to imagine
anyone
doing something so awful. And almost impossible to think it could be someone she
knew.

But, of course, it
had
to be someone she knew. Or someone who knew
her.
And, in fact, knew a lot about her. Knew that she had a hard time staying in bed at night.

After her shower, Quinn couldn’t find the hair dryer. Tobie often borrowed it — and like everything else, she rarely put it back.

Muttering to herself, Quinn began to hunt. It was too cold to go outside with wet hair. She’d freeze. Where had Tobie
put
the stupid dryer?

She checked around Tobie’s dresser and night table, which were covered with a jumble of tissues, books, pens, and other stuff, but no hair dryer.

Impatient and very annoyed, Quinn looked around Tobie’s unmade bed. When she crouched down and peered underneath, she didn’t really expect to find the hair dryer. Even someone as careless as Tobie probably wouldn’t have tossed a hair dryer under a bed.

And the hair dryer wasn’t under there.

But the hammer
was.

Q
UINN KNELT BESIDE THE
bed and stared at the hammer as if it were a reptile about to strike. From where she knelt, she could clearly see the rusty stains on the claw. Blood …

She sank back on her heels. It had happened again. Something used in an attack on campus had made its way into her room.

But this time, it wasn’t under
her
bed.

It was under Tobie’s bed. Tobie …who had been so shattered by Peter Gallagher’s death that she was still seeing a counselor. Unhappy Tobie …

How
unhappy?

It would have been so easy for Tobie to plant all those things in their room.

The thought made Quinn sick. But if not letting anger out could make someone walk in their sleep and punch out a sister and wreck a tennis racket, maybe a broken heart could do the same kind of thing. Maybe Tobie didn’t really
know
what she was doing. Or couldn’t help it. Maybe that’s why she was seeing a counselor.

Had Tobie really been with Danny all of last evening?

Hating herself, Quinn got up and went to the telephone to call Danny’s frat house. When he was on the line, she said, “Danny, it’s Quinn. Tobie’s in the shower, but she wanted me to call and ask if you’d happened to find her wallet. She thought she might have dropped it when you guys were out last night.”

“You mean Thursday night,” Danny said.

“No … I thought she said last night.”

“I didn’t see Tobie last night. She holed up in her room all day yesterday. Said she felt lousy. I’ll check my car, though, see if she left it there Thursday night.”

Quinn hung up. Tobie had lied about being with Danny last night.

Why?

She couldn’t keep wrestling with this thing on her own. The attack on Tim and Ivy had been the worst one yet. Playing amateur detective wasn’t going to solve anything.

Making up her mind, Quinn gathered together the raincoat, the skirt and blouse and paint-stained sneakers, and gingerly toed the hammer out from underneath the bed with one foot, being careful to wrap a tissue around her hand before she picked it up and stuffed it into a plastic bag with the other items.

Then she left the building and drove to town, straight to the police station.

“I found these in my room on campus,” she told the officer she’d been directed to. “I thought you should have them.”

The policeman was big, with a thick crop of graying hair and a friendly smile. The smile disappeared when she emptied the plastic bag out upon his desk, which was littered with newspaper articles and manila folders.

They talked for nearly an hour, and when she had finished answering his questions, he seemed convinced that she had no idea how the raincoat had gathered its glass, how the skirt, blouse, and shoes had collected paint stains, or how the hammer had ended up under her roommate’s bed.

“I’ll just keep these,” he said, stuffing the items back into their bag. “Should be a lot of help.” He fixed intelligent eyes on Quinn. “Might be a good idea if you didn’t say anything to anyone about coming here, okay?”

Quinn nodded. She understood.

She was about to leave when she glanced down at the desk, the surface now free of her things, and gasped.

A picture of Tobie Thomason was staring back up at her from a newspaper clipping. The caption beneath the photo read:

GIRL TESTIFIES AGAINST

BOYFRIEND’S ATTACKER

“What … what is that?” Quinn managed, one shaky finger pointing toward the desk.

The policeman’s eyes followed Quinn’s finger. “You know her?”

“She’s … she’s my roommate. Why do you have that clipping on your desk? Can I read it?”

“I can tell you what it says. Your roommate,” he tapped the photo with a finger, “sent a real sleaze bag to prison for a very long time. Name of Gunther Brach. He decided to help himself to someone else’s funds. Tried to take it from this girl’s boyfriend, Peter Gallagher.”

Quinn nodded. “I know about that. But I didn’t know Tobie testified.”

“It’s not our case,” the officer said. “Happened over in Riverdale. But when all this stuff started on campus, the Thomason girl’s parents gave us a call. They were worried about her. Testifying was real hard on the girl. Got a lot of death threats by phone and mail before the trial. Could have backed out, but she didn’t. The force in Riverdale thinks there was someone else in the car with Brach that night, someone who didn’t want Miss Thomason to testify. By the time they picked the guy up after the robbery, he was alone, and insisted he’d been alone all night. But they figure he took his accomplice home before they caught up with him.”

“Do you have any idea who that was? With him when he did it, I mean?”

The policeman shook his head. “Could have been a pal, a girlfriend, who knows? Brach wasn’t talking. Honor among thieves, that kind of thing, I guess. He wasn’t going to rat on a friend. I talked to one of the officers on the case. Apparently, there were a couple of possibles in court every day. A heavyset blonde girl who stared daggers at Thomason while she was testifying, and a couple of young fellows looked like they might be friends of Brach’s.

“But they never got anything concrete on any of them, and, like I said, Brach wasn’t talking.”

“And Tobie’s parents are worried now?” Quinn couldn’t blame them. If all the parents knew what was happening on campus, the student body would be yanked out of Salem so fast, the dorms would empty like sinking ships.

“The girl … your roommate … did a real fine job of testifying. Brach was convicted and hauled off to prison. But according to her parents, once that was over, the girl fell apart. Really went to pieces. I guess it’s no secret that she had to be hospitalized. They were real open and honest about it, so I guess since you’re her roommate, you probably know all about it.”

No. No, I didn’t know, Quinn thought sadly.

“Can’t blame the poor kid,” the officer went on. “Watching her boyfriend die, then being scared to death by threats, and then having to testify in open court. Took a lot of guts to get up there on the stand. She okay now?”

Good question.
Was
Tobie okay? Or had the horror of watching Peter Gallagher die and the death threats afterward and the testifying done far more damage to her mind than anyone suspected? Had her stay in the hospital worked? Or not?

“Yes,” Quinn said, “she’s fine. We’re all upset by what’s happening on campus, though. I wonder, do you know the names of those people who came to the trial every day? The blonde girl, and the two guys?”

He shook his head. “Nope. But I can probably find out. Why? You know something I don’t?” His eyes narrowed. “Not thinking of playing detective, are you, miss? This is serious business, you know.”

“No. I don’t know anything.” Was that ever true! “I was just curious.”

“Well, give me a call later. Maybe I’ll have the names then. Don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t have them, especially with the Thomason girl being your roommate.”

Quinn thanked the officer and left.

By the time she arrived back on campus, she hadn’t figured out a single thing. Except that Tobie had been through hell. And maybe she had come out of it okay, and maybe she hadn’t. Had she been lying about writing Simon that letter? The way she’d lied about being with Danny last night?

Wouldn’t having someone you loved taken away from you make you hate other happy couples?

Quinn got out of her car in the parking lot to find Simon standing on the curb, smiling.

“Been out joyriding on this gorgeous afternoon?” he asked, coming over to her and giving her a quick kiss. “Can’t blame you. I’m hurt that I wasn’t invited, though.” He pretended to pout.

“I … I had to run to the mall. Did you try the room? Was Tobie there?”

“Nope. Nobody home. Any plans for this afternoon?” Simon asked casually.

There wasn’t a single thing she could do until Tobie returned, or until she talked to the policeman again and got those names. A blonde girl … a couple of guys … that could be anybody. Anybody.

She
wanted
the attacker who had tried to frame her to be
anybody.
Anybody but Tobie.

“No. I have no plans. I wouldn’t mind taking a canoe out on the river, though.” Maybe getting off campus and onto the water would clear her mind, help her think more clearly.

Out on the water, the sun shining down on them, the river quiet, the time passed quickly. The bright sunshine had warmed the air again, and theirs wasn’t the only canoe on the river. It was almost possible for Quinn to believe that she’d imagined everything that had happened recently. It was almost possible to pretend that the campus of Salem University was as calm and peaceful as when she’d first arrived in late August.

That seemed like years ago.

When, sunburned and tired, they arrived back on campus at dusk, Simon was starving. “I’ll go shower and change,” he suggested.
“Fast.
I’ll come back and pick you up in an hour for dinner, okay?”