Love Me to Death Page 3

  So he didn’t say a word about what he thought he had seen outside that damned cursed house this very morning. “He’s got a head injury, pal. That’s all it is.”

  Brad seemed relieved, and then Janet was there, taking his arm. “They want me to stay out of the room while they examine him,” she said. “What happened in there?”

  Brad lowered his head, as did Randy and Kevin when she looked at each of them in turn. But when her eyes met David’s, he said, “Why don’t we find a place to sit and talk. You look like you could use something to eat. Is there a cafeteria or—?”

  Janet sent a yearning look at Mark’s closed door, but then nodded. “It’s just down the hall.”

  David fell into step with her, and the others followed. He didn’t feel like he could eat a bite, but once in the cafeteria he grabbed a plate and proceded to fill it all the same, hoping Janet would try to eat if the rest of them did.

  He paid little attention to what he scooped onto his plate. There were fresh fruits, scrambled eggs, a stack of pancakes and piles of bacon and sausage. A typical breakfast buffet. He watched Janet as she put a minuscule amount of fruit and a pastry onto her own plate, then he led her to a table.

  She sat beside him, and the other three men joined them. Kevin had to pull a chair from another table over to theirs.

  David waited until she had taken a couple of bites, forcing himself to do likewise, and then finally he took a breath and looked her in the eye. “Do you know what Mark thinks, Janet?”

  “No. But I know it has something to do with Sierra Terrence.” She looked at each of the men. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  They nodded, almost as one.

  “He’s been muttering her name in his sleep. Especially right after the accident, when he was unconscious. And when he woke up, he seemed scared to death and kept asking for you guys—just you guys. No one else.”

  David nodded. “He said he saw her—or her ghost, or something. That’s what made him run out into the street like that. He thought she was after him. He thinks she’s come back to get revenge on us, I guess.”

  “He hit his head,” Randy told her, and he reached across the table to cover her hand with his own. “That’s all it is. He’s hurt and he doesn’t know what’s real and what’s part of a dream or a hallucination or whatever this is. That’s all.”

  Janet met his eyes. “I don’t think so. Look, I don’t want to scare him, or you guys either. But I know my husband. And I think he saw something.”

  “No, Janet, no. He doesn’t remember what happened,” Kevin said. “He doesn’t. This is all some kind of delusion.”

  She shook her head firmly, left, then right. “He saw something. I’ve never seen him that terrified. And he got terrified before the truck hit him. Something frightened him badly enough to send him running into its path.” She looked directly at David then. “I want to know what.”

  David nodded. “I’ll look into it, Jan.”

  “Will you?” She looked hopeful and surprised.

  “You know how close we all are. I’m not gonna just let this go. He needs to know it’s not real, and he won’t accept anything less than proof. So yeah, you bet I’m gonna look into it. We all will.”

  She closed her eyes, released her breath all at once, and lowered her head. “Thank you, David,” she whispered. “Thank you, all.”

  “Mrs. Potter?”

  They all turned to see the doctor who’d rushed into Mark’s room earlier approaching their table. They rose, all of them, and the fear that came into Janet’s eyes tore at David’s gut.

  “It’s all right,” Janet said as the doctor—Dr. Pollock—looked at the men around her. “They’re family. You can talk in front of them.”

  The doctor nodded. “Mrs. Potter, your husband has lapsed into a coma.”

  She faltered, her knees barely able to support her, and David quickly gripped her shoulders and eased her back into her chair. “Is he…is he brain-dead?” she whispered.

  “No. But we have no way of predicting when or…or if he’ll come out of this. We’re going to have to wait and see.”

  “Oh, God, this isn’t happening,” she whispered. Tears pooled and then spilled onto her cheeks.

  “I want you to keep talking to him, keep visiting him, keep encouraging him.”

  “He can still hear us?” David asked.

  “That’s the predominant wisdom, yes. And it could help.” He put a hand on Janet’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I wish the news was better.” With a final squeeze, he left the room.

  “He waited for you,” Janet told them. “It was so important to him that he managed to fend off a coma long enough to talk to you.”

  “He wanted to warn us that Sierra was coming after us next,” David said, nodding. “And I know it’s crazy, but to him, it’s real.”

  “Yeah, and once we find out what he really saw,” Randy said, “and we tell him, really convince him that it’s all okay, he’ll come out of this. I know he will, Janet.”

  “God,” she whispered. “God, I hope so.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  DAVID DIDN’T END UP GETTING his bag from the Jeep until much later that night. When they left the hospital, the four men drove down to Potter’s Grocery, Mark’s store, parked the SUV in front and looked sadly at the “Closed Until Further Notice” sign that had been taped to the front door.

  “Look, let’s talk to people, see if anyone saw anything that could give us a clue what really happened yesterday,” Randy said.

  Brad shook his head. “Don’t you think the police have already done that?”

  “Maybe we should talk to them, then,” Kevin put in.

  David nodded. “We’ll do all of the above. Brad and Kevin, you stay here and talk to anyone who’s willing. Randy, you can drive me to the police station. There’s another grocery store out that way, so you can pick up supplies for the cottage while I talk to the cops. Okay?”

  “I don’t like the idea of splitting up,” Brad said.

  “Why not?” David was puzzled, but then he noticed that Brad’s forehead seemed damp. “Brad, no one’s after us, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Brad asked, casting a nervous look up and down the road. There were few people out, locals, moving in and out of the various shops along Main Street. “I mean, not a ghost, sure. But what if it’s someone else? Some relative of hers out for revenge?”

  “After twenty-two years?” David asked. “Come on, Brad.”

  “Is it so far-fetched? You heard Janet. He saw something.”

  “Yeah. Maybe someone who looked like Sierra. And he freaked out. Maybe this has been eating at him more than the rest of us, for some reason. Maybe his mind wasn’t strong enough to deal with it, and seeing a girl with a resemblance to her was all it took to make him snap. Maybe a thousand other things, Brad, but it’s not someone out to get us after all this time. It’s not.”

  Brad held his eyes and shook his head. “Why would it bother him more than the rest of us, Dave? More than you, in particular? It couldn’t have been worse on any of us than it was on you. God, you were in love with her.”

  “I was sixteen.”

  “You still are.”

  David had to lower his eyes. “Like I said, maybe his mind just wasn’t able to handle it. Everyone’s different. Mental health is…it’s tricky.”

  “You being an expert and all,” Brad said. But he opened the door and got out of the SUV, beer belly first. “Fine, Kev and I will walk around asking questions and hope to God she doesn’t find us. Don’t be long, okay?”

  David nodded and sent a look toward Kevin, silently telling him to keep an eye on Brad. The guy was wavering on the edge of panic. Kevin acknowledged the unspoken message with a slight nod, and got out, as well.

  Randy put the rental into gear and they pulled away. And then he turned to David and said, “So what do you really think?”

  “Just what I said. I think there’s probably
a girl in town that looks a lot like Sierra. I think Mark saw her, and something broke inside his mind. And that’s all I think.”

  “Just asking.”

  David sighed. Then he glanced sideways at Randy. “This is just between us, okay?”

  Frowning, Randy nodded. “Okay.”

  “When I got into town this morning, I pulled over, in front of the house.”

  “The Muller House?”

  He nodded. “Sierra House now.”

  “Yeah, I saw that. Kind of nice they did that for her, isn’t it?”

  “Nice, yeah,” Dave said. “Anyway, I pulled over, just sat there looking at it. Remembering, you know?”

  “I do know.”

  “And as I pulled away, or was about to, I saw this girl in my rearview. Just for a second.”

  Randy was dead silent, waiting.

  David sighed. “For that instant, I could have sworn I was looking at Sierra. Not a lookalike, but her. You know? It felt like her. But when I turned around, she was gone.”

  He dared a look at Randy, who was driving with wide, unblinking eyes. “Do you think you imagined it? Because of all this, I mean?”

  “It was before I knew Mark thought he’d seen her. So it wasn’t instigated by that. But I suppose just being back here, being there at that place where it all happened—that could have triggered something. And I was running on empty. No sleep and all that. And worried about Mark and Jan and the boys.”

  “But…?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been dreaming about her.” He sent Randy a serious look. “Don’t repeat this, okay? But in the dreams, she says she’s coming back.”

  “Holy shit, Dave. You think what you saw, what Mark saw, was real?”

  “I don’t know. It didn’t feel like a hallucination or a memory. It felt like I glimpsed a real, flesh-and-blood young woman standing on the sidewalk across from the Muller place, staring at it just like I was. That’s what it felt like.”

  “But when you turned around, she was gone.”

  “Right.”

  “Like, poof, vanished, in a way that couldn’t happen? Or like she could have ducked around a corner or something?”

  David frowned hard. “Let’s find out.”

  “Huh?”

  “Let’s make a quick detour over there, pal. There’s snow on the ground. Maybe she left a footprint or two.”

  “Now you’re talking.” Randy turned the car around and drove in the opposite direction, taking the turnoff onto Maple.

  The only thing across the street from the house was a church, and today wasn’t Sunday, so there was no one around. The sidewalk was snow-free, and there were no footprints in the snow on the far side of it.

  “I guess she didn’t step off the walk,” David said softly.

  “Either that, or she didn’t leave footprints,” Randy replied.

  David sighed. “Let’s get to the police station.”

  * * *

  IT STORMED THAT NIGHT. The wind howled around the eaves of the cottage and snow slanted sideways through the night, tapping on the windows like a million tiny fingernails. The ocean slapped against the rocky shore below, frothing and foaming as if enraged.

  Hell, maybe it was.

  “So no one saw anything before Mark’s accident?” David asked.

  Kevin shook his head. “No. We talked to a couple dozen people, even found some who were fairly near him just before he lost it, but no one saw any dark-haired girl lurking around.”

  “Maybe they couldn’t see her,” Brad said softly. And then he crushed the beer can in his hand, dropped it onto the table and went to the fridge for another.

  Randy picked up the discarded can and took it to the recycle bin. “You shouldn’t be drinking so much, Brad.”

  “No? What should I be doing? An exorcism?”

  “I’m just saying, you ate fried chicken and French fries and cheesecake for dinner, and you’ve been putting away beer and potato chips all night. A man your size—”

  “That’s how I got to be my size, pee-wee.”

  “No need to get nasty,” Randy said, looking hurt.

  Kevin sat looking uncomfortable, so David tried to change the subject. “The police are as baffled as we are. So they were no help, except to say that the driver wasn’t at fault. The witnesses who saw it happen said Mark just ran into the street as if he were being chased, and right into the path of a delivery truck. But no one saw anything or anyone else near him.”

  “Sheee-it.” Brad took a pull from the beer can that probably drained half of it as he crossed the room to part the curtains. He stood there, staring out at the storm for a moment. And then the can fell from his hand, the remaining beer spilling on the floor.

  “Jeez, Brad, watch it, will you?” Randy snatched a dish towel that was hanging near the kitchen sink and hurried toward him.

  David rose slowly. “Brad?”

  “You know my father’s really particular about this place,” Randy said, kneeling near Brad and wiping up the beer. “I told him we’d—”

  By then, David was across the room, a hand on Brad’s shoulder. “Brad, hey, what’s going on?”

  Brad turned slowly. His mouth was agape, foamy spittle running from one corner, onto his chin. His eyes bulged, and he was as white as the snow outside.

  “Brad! Hell, someone call nine-one-one! I think he’s having a heart attack. Brad, talk to me, man.”

  But Brad didn’t say a word. David tried to hold on to him, thinking he could maneuver him onto the sofa or something, but the man was just too big. His knees hit the floor, and then he toppled forward and didn’t move.

  The others gathered around him, Kevin already on the phone, giving the address, Randy kneeling beside Brad on the floor, loosening his clothing, feeling for a pulse.

  “He’s still breathing,” he said, looking up. “His heart’s beating—hard.”

  David looked out the window, sure Brad must have seen something that scared the hell out of him—and already knowing, deep down in his gut, what that something must have been.

  And he was right.

  She stood there on the cliffs, staring out over the storm-tossed water. Oh, he couldn’t see her face clearly, given the darkness and the snow. But her dark hair blew in the wind, and she hugged her arms around her as if she were freezing.

  “That’s it. I’ve had enough of this bullshit.” David turned, heading for the door.

  “Dave, where the—?”

  “Take care of him, guys. Randy, you know CPR as well as I do. If his heart stops, do it. Meanwhile, elevate his feet, keep him warm and make sure he keeps breathing and has a pulse. The paramedics will be here in no time—station’s only a half mile away.”

  “But where are you going?”

  “I’m gonna go deal with our ghost.” He grabbed his Carhartt jacket off the hook near the door and was pulling it on even as he stomped outside.

  The cold wind hit him in the face, sending a shiver up his spine as he moved around the corner of the house, over the frozen ground, heading toward the cliffs. Straining his eyes, shielding them from the falling snow with one hand, he caught sight of her standing there. At almost the same moment, he heard sirens in the distance—the ambulance coming for Brad. He was at once grateful for their speed and annoyed that the sound made her turn in his direction. Because the moment she spotted him, she ran.

  Her trajectory was downward, angling away from him while heading toward the road. He quickly changed direction and began to run the same way, hoping to cut her off before she reached her car, or broomstick, or whatever the hell mode of transport she’d used to get here.

  He pushed himself, and the snow wasn’t deep enough to impede him much. Puffs of steamy breath emerged from his nose and mouth. The ambulance’s flashing lights approached, and as it neared the driveway, it illuminated a vehicle parked along the roadside. It had to be hers.

  He felt a rush of relief, the thought passing quickly through his mind that if she drove a car, she m
ust not be a disembodied spirit. Banishing the notion as ridiculous, he headed for the car.

  And he reached it, looked around, saw no one. Either he’d beaten her to the road or it wasn’t her car, after all. He leaned his hands on his knees, gave himself a minute to catch his breath and glanced up toward the cabin where the ambulance was parked, its attendants presumably already inside tending to Brad. He’d better be all right.

  A sound caught his attention, and he turned in the direction from which it came, watching through the darkness as footsteps, crunching rapidly through the snow, came closer.

  And closer.

  And then she emerged from beyond the overhanging limbs of a snowy spruce tree, looked up and straight into his eyes, and stopped dead in her tracks.

  She wasn’t a ghost. Puffs of steam emanated from her slightly parted lips.

  She had straight, jet black hair and huge eyes of deepest brown, and skin that was coppery, like her mother’s had been. She was beautiful, and she hadn’t changed at all, that he could see. In twenty-two years, she’d aged only enough to appear more adult than teenager. She was the only girl he’d ever loved. And somehow he’d loved her more after her death than he had before.

  Or maybe she was his obsession.

  She was dead, and yet she was standing here looking at him.

  Sierra Terrence.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A Few Days Earlier

  Denton, New Hampshire

  HER EYES BURNED. HER lungs burned. Her skin was starting to burn. She struggled to breathe, but sucked only searing-hot smoke into her lungs. She couldn’t see anymore, and her eyes stung as if they’d been irrigated with battery acid. She squeezed them tight as she staggered from the bedroom into the hallway, feeling her way, groping with her hands and moving forward even though everything she touched was hot, and hotter. Her only hope was to find the stairway. A way down. A way out.

  Should have gone out the window. Should go back into the bedroom, make my way to the window. The boys might still be out there. Maybe…

  She sank to her knees, suddenly unable to move another step. It must be due to the smoke, she realized, even as her consciousness slipped to blackness and back again, until it was impossible to tell which was which without the advantage of sight. It was pitch in the smoke. It was pitch in oblivion. One was the same as the other.