“Also, as I recall, she wanted to kill you.”
“Yeah, but that was probably an afterthought.”
They stood back-to-back, as if expecting Mallery to come out of the walls at any moment.
“He’s probably not in my actual room,” Eddie whispered.
“Probably not,” Charlotte whispered back. “He might have realized by now that Mary’s been captured. If he’s still hiding, he won’t stay put for long. I’m going to seriously flip out if he gets away again. We should hunt him out. Immediately.”
He looked at her over his shoulder. “Are you afraid?” he asked.
“Not too bad actually. Not right now, anyway.”
“Oh. Could you pretend you are for a moment? It’s just that you look bewitching in that white chemise, and I’d like an excuse to comfort you. My ghost, my Charlotte, my own private haunting …”
She whispered even more quietly than before, barely breathing the words, “Eddie, I’m terrified.”
He put his arms around her. Her hands felt the muscles of his bare back, her cheek rested against his neck. It was like diving into warm water, the touch of his skin.
“There, there,” he said as if comforting her, and they both laughed a little, but neither let go. “Feeling better?”
“I could use a little more comforting,” she said against his chest.
He kissed her neck, his hands tight on her back, and she closed her eyes and felt extremely angry at Mallery for needing to be hunted out. This was really inconvenient timing.
Forget Mallery, said her Inner Thoughts.
Eddie started to kiss her shoulder.
Forget who? Charlotte asked.
She was kissing Eddie now because, though he was brave, surely he needed some comfort as well. It was the nice thing to do. All thoughts, Inner and Otherwise, turned off for a few moments. When Practical Charlotte tried to reclaim her brain, she found herself pressed against the bedpost, her arms around Eddie’s neck, her hands clutching his hair. She disengaged her lips.
“Mallery?” she said breathlessly. “Danger? Police?”
“Right,” said Eddie. “Call. Now.”
He looked over her face then slowly let her go, seeming bewildered as to why he would willingly do such a thing.
“I hate him,” Eddie said with real sadness.
Charlotte nodded.
She and Eddie held hands as they ran down the gravel drive. The air was warm and cool at the same time, and for just a moment, her running strides slipped into a straight-up skip.
The inn was unlocked, and they phoned Detective Sergeant Merriman, who sounded sleepy but willing to come out.
“It will take her half an hour at least,” said Eddie after he hung up. He raised one eyebrow. “What shall we do?”
“Go wake Mrs. Wattlesbrook,” said Charlotte. “See what she knows of this house’s other secrets.”
He sighed. “Why are you so practical?”
Mrs. Wattlesbrook was not happy to be awakened and told that the police were coming yet again. She gruffly asserted that there were no other hidden spaces in the house besides the room on the second floor.
“Must we uproot the entire household at midnight for yet another fruitless search? Perhaps you could have left well enough alone.”
“I guess it was well enough for her,” Charlotte said as she and Eddie made their way back outside. “She wasn’t the one imagining the pink bonnet on the hook was Mallery coming back for a second chance at her throat.”
They sat on the front steps of the house, waiting for the police.
“Sorry, Eddie. I just felt so sure.”
“There may be secrets about this house that even Mrs. Wattlesbrook doesn’t know.”
“But how do we ferret him out?”
“I’d wager Mary knows where he is.”
“And she’ll never tell.” Charlotte started to make a wish on a star peeping through a hole in the clouds, till she realized it was a satellite. “You know, when Mary came into my room last night, her clothes were dirty, as if she’d climbed through a dusty space. But the dirt was black. Maybe not just dirt, but soot. Ashes.”
“A passageway through a fireplace?”
“Or maybe …”
Charlotte stood up, looking off into the distance. Eddie stood beside her.
“Pembrook Cottage?” he said.
“Yeah.”
They ducked into the morning room, grabbed a couple of candles, scrawled a note to the detective to meet them at the cottage, and left it on the front steps under a rock.
They’d intended to wait for the police outside the cottage, but once there, neither could resist creeping through the burned-out front door to look for signs of Mallery. Footsteps had scuffed the layer of ash, but for all Charlotte knew, they were the mark of firefighters. Without speaking, they made their way through charred rubble to the back of the house, where walls and roof were stained with smoke but intact.
Eddie was scanning the floor for clues. Charlotte meant to search, but she was distracted by the way the walls seemed to undulate in the candlelight. How could there be so many shadows when the only light came from a thumb-size flame?
“What a creepy little house,” Charlotte whispered.
Eddie made no response, and she thought he must not have heard her. Or perhaps the house swallowed up sound. She walked down the hall, her feet probing for creaking boards to convince herself sound was possible in this place. Would Mallery really prefer to skulk in an ashy, dark half-of-a-house than to run to freedom? It didn’t seem likely anymore.
At the end of the hallway, just before the stairs going up, she found a small sitting room. The smoke had barely touched the walls and ceiling, leaving intact a small table with chairs and a bookcase. Charlotte held up her candle, curious what books lined the shelves. She read titles under her breath.
Charlotte frowned. The bookcase seemed to be coming slowly forward. She shook her head, sure it was just her candlelight creating false motion on the bookcase’s uneven surface. She was about to remark on it to Eddie when a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the wall behind the bookcase. All in the same second, the bookcase/door shut, a breath blew out her candle, and a hand covered her mouth.
“Don’t scream.”
Charlotte, you’re so stupid! screamed her Inner Thoughts.
Yeah, thanks, I’ve figured that out, she thought back.