MOON FALL (27 page)

John did. "You'll need to walk the last part
-
the road narrows
into a footpath," he finished.

"What about the other way?" she asked. "The way Kelly
goes, through the forest?"

Mark paled as John spoke. "Don't go through the woods,
and tell Kelly not to, either." He briefly told her what had
happened to Pete Parker.

''That's horrible."

He nodded. "Have you ever heard anything about the birds?

According to Minerva, they nest on St. Gertrude's land."

She shook her head. "I think I've heard them. They have
an awful call, but I don't know what they are."

"The
nuns haven't said anything about them?"

"The nuns don't say much of anything," she said wryly. "I
can ask around, though. Maybe the groundskeeper can tell me
something."

Her words set off unexplainable alarm bells in John's mind.
''No, let me do the questioning."

"I'm
more likely to get answers than you are," she said,
irritated.

"I know, but I just don't think it's a good idea."

"Those nuns are mean," Mark said

Sara half smiled. "Well, they're certainly not very friendly."

''I don't want you to say anything to them." John sat forward.
"I wouldn't want anyone to think you're involved in this. It
might be dangerous for you."

"That's absurd," she said, her voice betraying a hint of
uncertainty.

''I know. It seems absurd to me, too, but I have to follow
my instincts." He looked over at Mark, saw the boy's approving
expression.
"Don't
you have some homework to finish?"

''A little." Mark said good night to them and headed out of
the room.

"I think you're being overly cautious," Sara said.

"Maybe.
But if your friend really was murdered, someone
at St. Gertrude's may be involved in something, and if they
think you're talking to me, things could get sticky."

''Do I detect a change in your attitude about Jenny's death?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I don't know. Maybe.
The thing is, where those nuns are concerned, people always
seem to have faulty memories. Myself included."

She raised her eyebrows. "You?"

"There was
-
or wasn't
-
an incident concerning the abbey.
It dates back to my childhood. I don't want to say anything
more until I talk to some old friends. I'm just saying you should
be
very
careful." He didn't know for sure whether his warning
was born of any real instinct or of paranoia stemming from the
conversation he'd had with Minerva. "Would you like some
coffee?"

She glanced at her watch. ''I would, but it's getting late.
Hopefully, no one knows I'm gone."

“
You had to sneak out? That place is sounding mor
e
and
more like a prison."

She rose. "It's always felt like one to me. I hate it there."

She
smil
e
d
as.
sh
e
moved to the door. "But I didn't exactly
sneak. I
jus
t didn
’
t tell anyone I was going out."

"Be careful," he said, stepping outside with her. The night
was cold and clear. "Keep your doors locked, okay?"

''Okay." She smiled. ''Good night."

''Good night, Sara." He watched her until
s
he was
s
afely in
her car, then went inside to see to his son.

Kelly had survived the intimate humiliations heaped on her
by Dr. Dashwood and had kept quiet when he'd confiscated
her locket and the amulet, but now, sitting on the cot in the
dimly lit room, she wanted to cry.

But I won't. I won't give them the satisfaction
...

Th
e
ten-by-ten room had one door, which was locked, and
no w
in
dows. A cot with one thin moth-eaten blanket, a table
with a shadeless lamp and a twenty-five-watt bulb and a stool
to sit on completed the furnishings. That was all
sh
e
had, except
for her schoolbooks. She should be grateful, she told herself
for the light: last time, the bulb had burned out. '

Two slices of stale bread and a single cup of water had been
her dinner. She'd be a skeleton by the time they let her out,
she thought, her stomach rumbling.

She sat up straight, hearing footsteps clicking along the hall
w
a
y be
y
ond.
They came to a stop outside her door and a key
clicked
into the
lock. The door creaked open and Sister Regina,
the snaky-looking nurse who'd held her down while Dashwood
examined her, stepped inside
;
bright light from the corridor
haloing around her.

''Turn off your lamp and unscrew the bulb " she ordered
"It's time for bed."

"I can't have the light?" Kelly asked, trying to control her
sudden panic.

''Of course not. For the next two weeks, no lights at night."

"Two
weeks?"

''You added a week to your punishment when you attempted
to run away. Now, do as you're told."

Kelly swallowed her pride.
''Ple
as
e
let me keep the light.
It's so dark in here!"

"If you don't do as you're told immediately, I'll have to get
the Mother Superior." Regina's mouth vee'd into a reptilian
smile. ''Disturbing her will probably cost you a third week. Is
that what you want?"

Sullenly, Kelly flipped off the light and unscrewed the bulb.
It was hot in her hand and she gritted her teeth as she extended
it to the nun. Regina caught up a fold of her black habit to
protect her fingers and took the bulb. As the material moved,
Kelly saw her rosary glint in the light from the hall.

The cross hung upside down. She couldn't stop staring at it.
Regina glanced down, then back at Kelly. ''Go to bed," she
ordered, as she turned and left the room, slamming the door
firmly behind her. The lock clicked; then the old bitch's footsteps
receded.

Kelly forced herself not to panic in the utter darkness and
slowly moved back toward the bed. She raked her shin against
the metal frame and tears filled her eyes. "No!" she said.
"You're
not
going to let them make you cry." Gingerly she
sat on the cot, then lay down, fully dressed. Closing her eyes
against the dark, she warded off her fears with thoughts of
being at Minerva's house,
c
urled up by the fire.

As she drove back up the narrow road to St. Gertrude's, Sara
began to regret visiting John Lawson. She was glad they had
talked, but now, driving through the heavy forest all alone in
the dark with God knew what flying around or lurking among
the trees, she wondered why she couldn't have waited unti
l
daylight.
You're too impatient for your own good.

If the woods weren't forbidding enough already, a fog had
rolled in while she was in town. The heaviest of it lay low to
the ground, but there were white patches floating everywhere,
ghosts reflected in her headlights. Now, as she neared the abbey,
it grew so thick that she couldn't see more than ten feet in
front of her; even the low beams were too much.

She turned off everything but the amber parking lights and
slowed to a crawl. The front gates suddenly loomed in front
of her and she turned the wheel hard left, barely keeping the
car on the road. "Christ," she whispered, and put her foot on
the brake. The fog was slowly shifting and she decided she
wasn't going anywhere until it cleared.

After five minutes spent drumming her fingers on the steering
wheel, she turned off the engine and lights and cracked the
window, then sat back to wait it out.

Fog swirled and crept all around the car, and she heard
faint singing. Evening services, she realized. The eerie tones
continued, some kind of Gregorian chant going on and on and
on while fog sifted and eddied. She tried not to think about the
steam in the showers that had done the same thing until it
formed
-
seemed to form
-
a
phantom.

Twenty endless minutes passed before the fog began to thin.
Up ahead, she could see muted light coming from the chapel.
"It's about time," she muttered, starting the car, again using
only the parking lights, this time to avoid drawing attention to
herself. Once she was behind the chapel, she doubted anyone
would notice her, but while taking the curve, her headlights
might flash in its windows. She wasn't afraid of being seen,
s
he reminded herself; she just didn't want to talk to anyone.

The road came within fifty feet of the building before curving
behind it. As she approached the turn, she glanced at the chapel,
looked up at the steeple. The gargoyle was gone. She braked,
took a second look. Or was it? Mist swirled, obscuring her
view, thinned, thickened. "You're imagining things," she said,
as she accelerated.

She passed the back of the chapel and cemetery without
looking at anything but the road. She drove on slowly to the
garage, aware that she was trembling, telling herself it was
nothing, just a reaction to John and Mark's story, the fog, and
the dark.

"Damn it." The big double doors to the garage were closed.
She put the Sentra in park and jumped out, relieved to see there
was no lock on the huge old stable. Shivering, she shot the
bolt and slowly pulled one of the heavy doors open far enough
to get the car inside.

Back in the car, she turned on the headlights and angled the
car into the building, parking in an empty stall near the door
because the dark within was so thick that she couldn't bear the
idea of walking all the way from the center of the garage. She
locked the car, then raced out of the building and closed the
door, breathing a sigh of
relief as she pushed the bolt h
ome.
The fog had receded, leaving nothing but a thin mist. In the
hazy moonlight, she could see the darkened school building in
front of her and the faintly lit chapel to the right. She squinted
at the steeple but couldn't make out anything through the haze
at this distance.
Let it go.

She walked quickly across the vast lawn, making a beeline
for the dormitory. It wasn't much past nine o'clock, but very
few lights were on. She hurried inside and up the stairs to her
room, relieved that she saw no one in the halls.
Opening her door she stepped inside, then flopped against
it, her legs like rubber, her hands trembling. Her mouth was
dust dry. "Get a grip," she muttered, as she reached over and
felt for the light switch. The white-walled room was almost
too bright, but she didn't mind.

She went straight to the little refrigerator and snagged a cold
soda, drank half of it in one long, wonderful swallow, then
shucked off her jacket and flopped into the old easy chair. For
the first time the room felt like home. Not a very good home,
she thought, but a home nevertheless. She looked around, thinking
that with a few pictures on the walls and a throw pillow
or two, it might not be so bad. Her gaze fell on the bed and
she saw something glinting on the spread.

She stood up and crossed to the bed. Her breath caught as
she recognized the object: a double-edged razor blade.

Raps like gunshots shot through the room, and Sara screamed
before she realized it was someone knocking on the door. She
whirled, clapping her hands to her mouth; she'd forgotten to
push the wedge under after she'd returned.

The door flew open and Richard Dashwood rushed in. "Are
you all right?" he asked, grasping her shoulders.

She looked up at him, saw the concern in his eyes. ''Yes,
yes, I'm fine," she sputtered. She knew she was blushing furiously.
"You startled me. Uh, would you like a Pepsi, or something?"

He studied her an instant longer, then smiled gently and let
his hands drop to his sides. "Yes, actually, I would."

Sara took another c
an out of the refrigerator and brought it
to the small dining table along with her own. Her heart was
still beating like a jackrabbit's, but her smile was genuine.
"Have a seat. I'm sorry, do you want a glass and some ice?"
She was almost as horrified at her own mindless babbling as
she'd been by the razor blade, but she couldn't stop. She heard
herself rambling on about how she had only paper cups, not
actual glasses, and would he like some tortilla chips or ginger
snaps?

Dash
wood seated himself while she was talking and opened
the soda. He smiled when she sputtered to a halt. "Aren't you
going to sit?"

''Yes, of course." Humiliated, she pulled out the other chair.
"I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me."

"You're very nervous tonight."

She nodded. "Sorry." She glanced a
t.
the bed, at the blade,
but said nothing.

"Did something happen while you were out?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, instantly alert.

''I saw you coming in." He smiled gently. ''I daresay the
sisters are aware of everyone's comings and goings as well.
It's hard to keep a low profile around here."

"I wasn't trying to sneak around, if that's what you mean.
I
am
free to come and go as I please, aren't I?"

"Of course you are," he said warmly. "And it's no one's
business where you go. The sisters might disapprove of your
leaving the grounds, but they know they can't stop you."

Between his mesmerizing gaze and his sincere smile, Sara's
reserve began to melt away. "Why would they disapprove?"
she asked.

"Because they are, what's the expression? Control freaks."

"Kind of makes me want to go to the bar and pick up
sailors," she said, "just to annoy them."

''That would have the desired effect." He chuckled; then his
expression grew serious. "Don't let them get to you, Sara.
They're a pitiful group really, all set in their ways. They've
been isolated out here so long that they can't imagine how
other people live."

"They're all still here, too, aren't they?" Sara sat forward,
intrigued.

"Most of them. Do you remember Sister Flora? Or Sisters
Nicholas, Anna, or Marie Stanislaus? They were all quite
elderly."

"Yes, I think I remember some of them. Did they leave?"

''In a manner of speaking. They died. Perhaps you noticed
the new gargoyle on the steeple of the chapel?"

"Yes. I thought I was seeing things."

He shook his head. "Not at all. Sister Elizabeth has turned
her talents to sculpting. She creates a new gargoyle for every
nun that passes on. That one was for Sister Flora, who was
Lucy's assistant and personal favorite. She died six months
ago. She was given the place of honor."

Sara felt reassured by the laughter in his eyes. ''I did think
there are more gargoyles than when I left here as a girl." She
made a face. "Somehow, I'd expect her to create gargoyles
instead of statues of the Virgin."

''Morbid memorials."
Dashwood
returned her smile, then
reached in his pocket. ''I almost forgot. I brought you something."
He brought out something wrapped in white tissue paper
and set it on the table. "I hope they haven't melted."

Opening the crackling paper, Sara saw two chocolate truffles.
"Are you trying to fatten me up?"

''Chocolate has known therapeutic effects."

''Yes, it does." Sara picked one up and pushed the other
toward the doctor. "But one is enough. You have the other."

"Save it for later." He pushed it back.

She bit into the chocolate, savored the fudge interior. ''These
are delicious. Where do you buy them?"

''I filch them from Apple Heaven. Sister Margaret has a gift
for candy
making."

''I like your honesty." For the first time she felt truly at ease
with the man. "Chocolate cures all sorts of problems, doesn't
it?"

He nodded. ''If I might be permitted to ask, why were you
so anxious earlier?"

''Driving through the fog. Parking in that dark garage." She
hesitated, then made a decision. "And someone's been in my
room."

His eyebrows raised. "Are you certain?"

''Whoever it was left a razor blade on the bed."

"That's horrible," he said. "But I'm not particularly surprised."

"You're not?" She reached for the second truffle.

''No. It's cruel but typical in a school like this. As you
undoubtedly know, your predecessor cut her wrists."

"Yes." She stared at Dashwood's handsome face. The man
had remarkable eyes. "And?"

"And children-
girls, in particular
-
can be very cruel. It's
a form of hazing. Or an initiation. I think your best course of
action is to show absolutely no sign of weakness. Be firm and
fair, and show the girls you mean business. They'll respect you
for it and the pranks will stop." He paused. ''I think I can even
tell you who's responsible."

"If you blame Kelly Reed, you're out on your ear, truffles
or no truffles."

"Not at all." He shook his head. "Poor Kelly. There's one
in every group."

''One what?"

''Outcast. Pariah. It's worse than usual for Kelly, because
Mother Lucy has taken a dislike to her, and as Mother Lucy
goes, so go the sisters." His eyes were dark and sad. ''I wish
I could do more for her."

"Why doesn't Lucy like her?" All the tension had left her
now and she covered a yawn.

Dashwood shrugged. "She says the girl is a pathological
liar. Kelly does tell tales, but she's not pathological. However,
there's no convincing our Mother Superior of that."

"It seems so cruel to lock her up. Can't you talk Lucy into
a milder form of punishment?"

"I've tried. When that woman makes up her mind, there's
no changing it. If it helps, though, I can assure you that Kelly
wants for nothing."

"Good. I'm glad." Sara couldn't stop looking at Dashwood's
eyes. They had tiny gold flecks that made them sparkle.
He's
talking about Kelly's welfare, and you're thinking like a schoolgirl!
She forced herself to sit up straight in her chair, tried to
fight her exhaustion. ''Do you think you could sneak me in to
visit her?" She heard several of her words slur.

He turned his palms upward, a helpless motion. ''It would
be extremely difficult. Sister Regina is Lucy's new lapdog, you
know. And I know for a fact that the confinement room is
bugged."

''Bugged? That's awful." She yawned.

"Not too awful. It's as much for the safety of the student
being punished as anything."

Sara nodded. ''I see."

"You're exhausted," he said, gazing into her eyes. "And
you have a big day tomorrow."

''First day of school," she murmured.

"I'll take my leave now," Dashwood said, as he stood up.
"Thanks
for the soda."

Sara stood up and the room
spun.
She grabbed the back of
the chair to
steady
herself, then, embarrassed
, attempted a short
laugh. ''Was there any liquor in those truffles?"