Captives (Nightmare Hall) (6 page)

There was a large, ugly wound on Lynne Grossman’s right temple.

S
O THEY FOUND HER.
That scream was loud enough to make the grass stop growing.

It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I was planning to let them leave, anyway. So who are they going to tell about their friend being stuffed into a trunk in the attic? No one.

It’s not my fault. Because if they hadn’t heard or seen anything while they were in the house, I could have let them go. They wouldn’t have had anything to tell anyone about this place, except that it was creepy.

But after the chair fell, I could just hear one of them saying to the police, “Well, officer, now that you mention a murder, I do remember hearing a noise when we were inside Nightmare Hall. It sounded like someone upstairs had dropped something on the floor. So maybe you should check the place out.”

There’s just no way I can let them go.

I’d better finish what I’m doing here. It’s going faster than I’d expected. Good thing, because any second now, someone will come racing down those steps to see if the phone is working yet, so they can call an ambulance for their surprise package in the trunk.

Just a few more nails
…

A
T TEN MINUTES AFTER
nine, Ernie Dodd called the state police to see if any accidents had been reported on the highway between Briscoe and Twin Falls.

The answer was negative, with a follow-up of, “No accidents because most of that highway’s closed, due to flooding. We’ve been warning people since seven o’clock this evening to stay off the road.

“Wouldn’t be too many people out there tonight, anyway,” the officer added. “What with a killer on the loose. I figure most people around here have their doors and windows locked up tight right about now. The guy’s going to be looking for a safe haven, and he’ll take it wherever he can find it, even if that means breaking in.” He uttered a short, humorless laugh. “What’s breaking and entering compared to murder, right?”

“Right,” Ernie agreed. But he was thinking that Molloy and Lynne, Daisy and Toni wouldn’t
know
about the murder. Unless they’d heard it on the car radio before they’d travelled very far. If they had, maybe that news, combined with the bad weather, had led them to postpone their trip for at least a day. If it had, Molloy would be home now.

Gearing up his courage, Ernie went to the phone again. This time, he was greeted by a sporadic dial tone. There was a lot of static on the line, and he wasn’t sure how long it would be operational. Consoling himself with the thought that the only reason he hadn’t heard from Molloy was the state of the telephone lines, he dialed her home phone number.

Her mother’s voice was cool, as he had known it would be. “Yes, of course, they left on time. I tried to talk them into waiting until tomorrow so the weather would be better, but my daughter never listens to me.”

If she did, Ernie heard, she wouldn’t be dating someone like Ernie Dodd.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Mrs. Book added anxiously. “Aren’t they there yet? Oh, heavens, they would have to be there by now.”

Ernie didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to worry Molloy’s parents, but he couldn’t very well lie and say Molloy was there when she wasn’t. “I just found out that the highway is closed,” he said, “so they can’t get through. They’ve had to stop somewhere and wait for the water to go down.” He knew that sounded as if he’d actually heard from Molloy. Well, so what? There wasn’t anything the Books could do if Molloy was stuck somewhere because of high water. Let them think she was safe for now.

When Molloy’s mother began pressing him for details as to exactly
where
Molloy had said she was when she called him, Ernie was saved by the line going bad again. He could still hear Mrs. Book’s voice over a blend of crackling and spitting noises, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. He hung up.

Someone knocked on his door and, for just a split second, Ernie had the eerie feeling that Mrs. Book had magically transported herself to Devereaux dorm and was standing outside his door waiting for answers to her questions.

It was Ernie’s friend Simon, a tall, lanky baseball player. His hair was drenched, his face dripping, his windbreaker and jeans clinging to him. He was with his fellow baseball player, Elise Cook. Tall, blonde, and broad-shouldered, her short blonde hair was wet, and neatly combed into place, as if she’d just taken a shower. Her jeans and Salem T-shirt were dry. Elise lived at Devereaux. Simon didn’t.

“You were out in this?” Ernie asked Simon, letting them in.

“No other way to get here, pal. Couldn’t find any underground tunnels. You hear about Leo?” Simon asked, shedding his windbreaker and reaching into the bathroom for a towel. Unwilling to sit in his wet clothes, he leaned against the bathroom doorframe. “The police are all over campus. One guy told me they think it was one of Leo’s patients. That includes us, Ernie. They’ll be knocking on our doors any minute now.”

Elise slouched in Ernie’s desk chair, long legs stretched out in front of her, silently watching as Ernie sat down on the bed and looked at Simon in surprise. “Knocking on my door? I only saw Leo that one time. When I was feeling so bummed about being away from Molloy. I told you guys about it.”

Elise nodded. “I remember.”

“He wasn’t much help,” Ernie continued. “Talked about something called codependence and never said a single word about love.” He didn’t add that he had, in fact, become so angry with Dr. Leo he had shouted, and his secretary had stuck her nose into the office to see if anything was wrong, meaning should she run to the phone and place a call to campus security? His name would probably be right at the top of the list of patients she handed over to the police. “I didn’t go back and I don’t consider myself one of his patients. You didn’t see him that much, either, did you?” he asked Simon.

“Just twice. But my name’s in his files. I guess the word’ll get out now, won’t it? I wonder what people will say? Macho baseball player sees shrink over an allergic reaction to his new baseball uniform. Anyway, he wasn’t helping me. That’s why I only saw him twice.”

“I saw him more than that,” Elise volunteered. “For my insomnia. And he did help. Arthur recommended him.”

Simon laughed rudely. “Arthur? You did something Arthur recommended?”

“It helped.” Elise began nervously running her fingers through her cropped hair. “I was off my game because I wasn’t getting enough sleep. Arthur said he never went a single day without seeing Dr. Leo, so I thought I’d give it a try.” To Simon, she said with dread in her voice, “You think that we’re all suspects? Just because we were patients of his?”

Simon shrugged. “Looks that way.”

Ernie began pacing back and forth in front of the rain-streaked window. “What really bothers me,” he said in a low, urgent voice, “what is
really
driving me nuts, is that Molloy is out there and they haven’t caught that guy. I mean, isn’t he going to be looking for a ride out of town? The state police said there was almost no one on the road. If Lynne got stubborn, and kept going when she shouldn’t have, and if they’re just about the only car on the road, they could come across that maniac and he’ll want their car.”

Simon frowned. “Molloy’s not here yet? I thought you told me she was supposed to be here by six. We,” he said glancing toward Elise, “were going to take you two out to eat. Although after practically swimming over here from my dorm, I think we’ll have to settle for the cafeteria downstairs, gruesome though that prospect is.”

“She
was
supposed to be here by six. I just wish I knew for sure that they’d stopped somewhere, a motel or something. Maybe she tried to call and couldn’t get through.”

“It does seem like she’d have called to tell you where she is,” Elise said.

“The phones are really bad. Some of the lines are down and even where they aren’t, there’s so much interference, you can’t hear the other person. I know because I just talked to Molloy’s mother.” Ernie forced a wan grin. “Nobody I’d rather be talking to when the line goes dead.”

Simon laughed. But he was serious again almost immediately. “So, what are you going to do? About Molloy, I mean?”

“I don’t know.” Ernie was a writer. He had a very vivid imagination. That imagination had dredged up a terrifying image of Molloy sitting in a car stranded in high water as some crazy maniac with wild eyes approached from behind. “But if I don’t do something, I’m going to go nuts! Any ideas?”

“State police.”

“Already called them. They said no reported accidents. So at least I know she’s not lying in some emergency room somewhere.” Ernie had resumed his pacing.

Simon moved to stand behind Elise’s chair. “Maybe they’ve finally caught the guy. I’d kind of like to get a good night’s sleep, know what I mean?”

“Wouldn’t have to be a guy,” Elise said, as if she were thinking aloud.

“What?”

“I said what makes you think it was a guy? Why couldn’t it have been a girl? I’m not Leo’s only female patient. There are others. Girls who saw him a lot more often than I did. Becca Turnbull, for one, and she acted like she hated him. And Corinne Summerson. She’s an athlete, and big enough and strong enough to bash in someone’s skull. Except I think she had a crush on Dr. Leo. She couldn’t wait to see him every day. Like Arthur.”

Simon reached into an open box of cookies Ernie’s mother had sent, sitting on top of Ernie’s stereo. “I’ve been thinking about Arthur,” Simon said.

Ernie stared at him. “Arthur? Arthur
Banks?”

Simon took a huge bite out of the cookie. “Um-hum. He’s pretty weird, Ernie. You gotta admit that. I mean, how many other guys do you know who wear suspenders even with shorts?”

“We’re going to hang this guy on the basis of his wardrobe?”

Simon shook his head. Cookie crumbs flew. “It’s not just that. He saw Leo every day, Ernie. He told us that, when I was talking about my allergy, remember? ‘I couldn’t function without Dr. Leo’s help,’ was what Arthur had to say. ‘A day without a visit to Dr. Leo would be a dark day for me.’ That’s actually what weird old Arthur said.”

“Well, then, he certainly wouldn’t have killed him, would he, Simon?” Elise said tartly. “Arthur’s okay. He’s just … strange, that’s all.” She shrugged. “Who isn’t?”

Impatient with them, Ernie said, “Look, I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay? I have to find out where Molloy is. That’s all I care about right now.” He moved to the door, picking up his baseball jacket as he passed his bed. “I’m going to go talk to the police. I want to know what they’re doing to find that head case. And maybe they can help
me
find out where Molloy is.”

Simon straightened up, pocketed several more cookies, and nodded. “Yeah, sure, Ernie. But can we eat first? My stomach is howling with hunger. A few more minutes won’t hurt, will it?”

“You two go ahead. I’m not hungry.”

“Okay if we come back up here and wait for you after we eat?” Elise asked. “I want to know what you found out.”

“Sure. But you’ll have to wait in the hall, because I’m locking the door. Can’t have some crazy killer using my room as a hideout, can I?”

The three separated on the ground floor, and as Ernie left the building he remembered what Simon had said. “A few more minutes won’t hurt.”

Didn’t that depend on where Molloy was and what was happening to her?

How many minutes had it taken for Dr. Leo’s head to be crushed?

I
N THE ATTIC AT
Nightingale Hall, Toni was the first to cry out, “Oh, God, what happened to Lynne? Look at her head! She’s bleeding! Is she dead?” Her eyes darted frantically around the dark, cluttered attic, as if she expected someone to jump out from behind the boxes and trunks and furniture. Her voice hushed almost to a whisper, she said, “Someone
is
out there! Lynne didn’t cut herself on the wood-box. That blood we saw was from that awful wound on her head.”

Looking dazed, Daisy nodded. “And she didn’t hit herself over the head and throw herself in this trunk. Someone else did.”

They stood very close together, their eyes scanning the attic in dread, their breath coming in short, anxious gasps.

“This is unreal,” Daisy said, staring down at Lynne. “How could someone have brought her into the house and up here without any of us hearing or seeing him? Up all those stairs …”

“Oh, no,” Toni whispered, her hands clutching the edge of the trunk, “he’s
in
here! He’s in the house!” Words spilled out of her mouth as panic overtook her. “He’s not outside, he’s in
here
somewhere, with us, and there’s something wrong with him or he wouldn’t have done that to Lynne; he’s crazy, he’s got to be crazy! We don’t even
know
anyone here except Ernie, so anyone who would hurt Lynne for no reason has to be crazy! What are we going to do?”

Molloy struggled to think. She couldn’t believe this was happening. What had they done to make someone so angry? How had they turned themselves into targets? They had only been looking for refuge from the storm. And the place had looked so deserted.

But it wasn’t, was it?

They had to get away from here. Nightmare Hall wasn’t safe, just as Ernie had told her. And they had to get out …
fast
He could be anywhere in the house. But first, they needed an ambulance. They couldn’t just leave Lynne lying in the trunk. Minutes had to count with the kind of injury she had.

But the phones were out. What could they do? There had to be something. They couldn’t just leave Lynne lying there and not do anything. They didn’t even know if she was still alive.

Bending, Molloy touched Lynne’s wrist. It was cool, and still damp. But it wasn’t cold, as she’d been terrified it would be. She applied more pressure to the wrist. “I think I feel a pulse,” she told Daisy and Toni. “Not very strong, though. It’s really slow, like it’s thinking about stopping any minute now. But at least she’s still alive.”

“Are you sure?” Daisy said.

“Yes. But we have to do something, fast.” Molloy, for lack of anything better to do, swept an old, faded blue chenille bedspread from its folded spot on a chair and spread it over Lynne. “We have to get help. Help for Lynne … and help for
us
.”