“What do expect from us?” asked Jane.
“To stay out of it.”
“Teddy Clock is my responsibility. And lady, you are way out of your jurisdiction.”
“The last thing I need are clueless cops shooting at their own shadows.” She glanced down as her cell phone rang. Turning away, she answered it with a brusque: “Talk to me.”
Though Jane could not see the woman’s face, she saw her spine suddenly stiffen, her shoulders snap straight. “We’re on our way,” she snapped, and disconnected.
“What happened?” asked Jane.
“I had an agent in place. At the school.”
“Had?”
“His body has just been found.” Carole looked at Jane. “It seems we’ve come to the final act.”
“WE SHOULD EVACUATE,” said Sansone as he unlocked the safe in the curiosities room. He swung open the safe to reveal a handgun stored inside. Maura watched him swiftly load nine-millimeter bullets into the magazine, and was startled by his obvious familiarity with the weapon. She had never even seen him hold a gun before; clearly he was not only comfortable with the weapon but also prepared to use it. “If we wake up the kids now,” he said, “we could be on the road within ten minutes.”
“And where would we take them?” said Maura. “Outside those gates, we’re vulnerable. You’ve turned this castle into a fortress, Anthony. You have a security system, unbreachable doors.” And a gun, she thought, watching him slide the magazine into place. “Jane told us to batten down and wait till she gets here. That’s what we should do.”
“As secure as I’ve made this castle, we’re still a stationary target.”
“Safer inside than out there. Jane was very clear on the phone. Stay together. Stay in the building. Trust no one.”
He tucked the gun in his belt. “Let’s make one last perimeter check,” he said and left the curiosities room.
Nightfall had brought a new chill to the air, and as she followed him into the entrance hall, the temperature seemed to drop even more. She hugged herself as she watched him check the front door, as he scanned the electronic security panel and confirmed that the system was armed, all zones secure.
“Detective Rizzoli could have told us more on the phone,” Sansone said as he moved on to the dining hall where he inspected windows, tested locks. “We don’t know what the hell we’re fighting.”
“She said she wasn’t allowed to tell us more. We just have to do exactly what she told us.”
“Her judgment isn’t infallible.”
“Well, I trust her.”
“And you don’t trust me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, one they both knew was true. He turned to face her, and she felt an unsettling thrill of attraction. But she saw too many shadows in his eyes, too many secrets. And she thought about the startling ease with which he’d handled the gun, yet another detail she had not known about him.
“I don’t even know who you are, Anthony,” she said.
“Someday,” he said with a faint smile, “maybe you’ll want to find out.”
They left the dining hall and moved on to the library. With most of the students and faculty gone, the castle was eerily silent, and at this late hour it was easy to believe that they were utterly alone. The last inhabitants of an abandoned citadel.
“Do you think you could ever learn to trust me, Maura?” he asked as he walked from window to window, a somber guardian moving through the gloom. “Or will there always be this tension between us?”
“You could start by being more open with me,” she said.
“We could both take that advice.” He paused. “You and Daniel Brophy. Are you still together?”
At the mention of Daniel’s name, she halted in her tracks. “Why do you ask?”
“You must have an answer.” He turned to her, the shadows from the overhanging alcove hiding his eyes.
“Love isn’t cut and dried, Anthony. It’s messy and it’s heartbreaking. Sometimes there are no endings.”
In the gloom, she could just make out his knowing smile. “Yet another reason you and I are alike. Beyond our personal tragedies, beyond the work we do. We’re both lonely,” he said softly.
In the silence of that library, the sudden ringing of the telephone was all the more startling. As he crossed the room to pick up the extension, she stood rooted to the spot, unsettled by what he’d just said. And shaken by the truth of it. Yes, we are lonely. Both of us.
“Dr. Isles is right here,” she heard him say into the phone.
Jane’s calling was Maura’s first thought. But when she took the receiver, it was the Maine medical examiner on the line.
“I just wondered if you ever got my message. Since I didn’t hear back from you,” said Dr. Emma Owen.
“You called? When?”
“Around dinnertime. I spoke to one of the teachers. Some grumpy-sounding guy.”
“That would be Dr. Pasquantonio.”
“That’s his name. I guess he forgot to tell you. I’m about to climb into bed, and I thought I’d give you another call, since you did ask me to expedite this.”
“Is this about the tox screen?”
“Yes. Now, I’ve got to ask you. Was Dr. Welliver really a shrink?”
“She was a clinical psychologist.”
“Well, she was doing a little mind bending on her own. The tox screen turned up lysergic acid diethylamide.”
Maura turned and stared at Sansone as she said, “That can’t be right.”
“We still have to confirm it with HPLC-fluorescence, but it looks like your Dr. Welliver was tripping out on LSD. Now, I know some shrinks consider it therapeutic. A way to open your mind to spiritual experiences, yada yada. But she was working in a school, for God’s sake. Dropping acid is not exactly role-model behavior.”
Maura stood very still, the phone pressed so tightly to her ear she could hear her own pulse. “That fall from the roof …”
“Very possibly a result of hallucinations. Or acute psychosis. You remember that CIA experiment years ago, when they gave some poor guy LSD and he jumped out the window? You can’t predict how a subject will react on the drug.”
Maura thought about the stray crystals on the bathroom floor, scattered when someone had emptied the sugar bowl into the toilet. Disposing of the evidence.
“… I’m going to have to reclassify this death as an accident. Not suicide,” said Dr. Owen. “Fall from a height after ingestion of hallucinogens.”
“LSD can be synthesized,” cut in Maura.
“Um, yeah. I suppose. Wasn’t it first isolated from some fungus grown on rye plants?”
And who knows more about plants than Professor David Pasquantonio?
“Oh my God,” Maura whispered.
“Is there a problem?”
“I have to go.” She hung up and turned to Sansone, who stood right beside her, his eyes filled with questions. “We can’t stay,” she said. “We have to get the children and leave now.”
“Why? Maura, what’s changed?”
“The killer,” she said. “He’s already inside the castle.”
“WHERE ARE THE others?” Maura asked.
Julian squinted at them from his doorway, eyes still dazed with sleep. He stood bare-chested, wearing only boxer shorts, his hair standing up in all directions. A sleepy teenager who clearly wanted only to crawl back into bed. Yawning, he rubbed his chin, where the first dark stubble of a beard had sprouted. “Aren’t they in bed?”
“Will and Teddy and Claire aren’t in their rooms,” said Sansone.
“They were there when I checked on them.”
“When was that?”
“I don’t know. Ten thirty, maybe.” Julian suddenly focused on the gun tucked into Sansone’s waistband, and he straightened in alarm. “What’s going on?”
“Julian,” said Maura. “We need to find them now. And we need to be quiet about it.”
“Hold on,” he said, ducking back into his room. A moment later
he reemerged dressed in blue jeans and sneakers. With Bear at his heels, he headed down the hall and stepped into Will and Teddy’s room.
“I don’t get it,” he said, frowning at the empty beds. “The boys were both in here, already in their pajamas.”
“They didn’t say anything about going out?”
“They know they’re supposed to stay inside tonight. Especially tonight.” Julian spun around and headed across the hall. Maura and Sansone followed him into Claire’s room, where they all stood surveying the books spread haphazardly on the desk, the sweatshirt and dirty socks lying in a heap in the corner. Nothing alarming here, just the typical disorder of a teenager’s room. “It doesn’t make sense that they’d leave,” said Julian. “They’re not stupid.”
Suddenly Maura was aware of how deep the silence was. As deep as the earth, as deep as the grave. If any other souls were in the castle, she could not hear them. She dreaded the thought of searching every room, every alcove and stairway, in a fortress that had already been breached by a killer.
The dog’s whine startled her. She looked down at Bear, who returned the look with an eerie gleam of intelligence in his eyes. “He can help us search,” she said. “He just needs their scent.”
“He’s not a bloodhound,” Julian pointed out.
“But he is a dog, with a dog’s sense of smell. He can track them, if we make him understand what we’re searching for.” She glanced at the mound of Claire’s discarded clothes. “Give him a whiff of those,” she said. “Let’s see where he takes us.”
Julian pulled a leash from his pocket, clipped it to Bear’s collar, and led him to the pile of dirty laundry. “Here, boy,” he urged. “Take a good sniff. That’s what Claire smells like. You know Claire, don’t you?” He cupped the dog’s enormous head in his hands and stared straight into Bear’s eyes. The connection between them was something deep, even sacred. It had been forged in the Wyoming mountains, where boy and dog had learned to rely on each other, where survival had meant complete trust between them. Maura watched in wonderment as understanding seemed to light the dog’s eyes. Bear turned toward the door and barked.
“Come on,” said Julian. “Let’s go find Claire.”
Bear tugged on the leash, leading the boy out of the room. But instead of heading toward the main stairway, the dog moved down the corridor, toward the deserted wing of the building where the shadows were deeper, where doors gaped open, revealing empty rooms with sheet-draped furniture. They passed an oil portrait of a woman in red, a woman with eyes that seemed to stare at Maura with strangely metallic brightness, as though lit from within by some secret knowledge.
“He’s headed toward the old servants’ staircase,” said Sansone.
Bear halted and stared down the steps, as if pondering the wisdom of descending into that gloom. He glanced back at Julian, who nodded. Bear started down the narrow stairs, claws clicking on wood. Unlike the banister in the grand staircase, this oak railing was unadorned with elaborate carvings, the wood rubbed smooth over the decades by the hands of multiple servants who had quietly kept the castle tidy and its guests fed. A chill seemed to cling to the air, as if the ghosts of those long-dead servants still lingered in this passage, forever flitting up and down with brooms and breakfast trays. Maura could almost feel one of those ghosts whisper past her like a cold breeze, and she glanced over her shoulder but saw only deserted stairs ascending into the gloom.
They moved down two flights and still they kept descending, toward the basement level. Maura had never been down this far, into the deepest part of Evensong. These steps seemed to lead into the heart of the mountain itself, into closed spaces. She could smell it in the air, could feel it in the dampness.
They arrived at the bottom of the steps and walked into the cavernous kitchen, where Maura saw massive stainless-steel stoves, a walk-in refrigerator, and ceiling racks where pots and pans hung. So this was where their morning eggs were fried and their bread was baked. At this hour the kitchen was deserted, the crockery and utensils stowed until morning.
Bear suddenly froze, staring at a cellar door. The ruff of his neck stood up and he growled, a sound that sent fear screaming up Maura’s spine. Something was behind that door, something that alarmed the dog, made him drop to a crouch, as though preparing for attack.
Metal clanged, loud as a cymbal crash.
Maura jumped, heart slamming, as the echoes faded in the kitchen. She felt Sansone holding her arm, but she didn’t remember when he’d grasped it. It was simply there, as if he had always been there to steady her.
“I think I see him,” Sansone said quietly. Calmly. He released Maura’s arm and started across the kitchen.
“Anthony—”
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He rounded the kitchen island and knelt down, dropping from view. Though she couldn’t see him, she heard his voice, murmuring gently. “Hey, you’re safe. We’re here, son.”
She and Julian glanced uneasily at each other, then followed Sansone around the corner of the island. There they found him crouched over a trembling Teddy Clock. The boy was curled into a tight ball, knees shoved up to his chest, arms hugging himself.
“He seems to be fine,” said Sansone, glancing up at her.
“He’s not fine,” she said. Dropping down beside Teddy, she pulled him into her arms and rocked him to her chest. He was chilled, his skin like ice, and shaking so hard that she could hear his teeth rattle. “There, there,” she murmured. “I’ve got you, Teddy.”
“He was here,” the boy whispered.
“Who?”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he moaned. “I shouldn’t have left them there, but I was scared. So I ran …”
“Where are the others, Teddy?” said Julian. “Where’s Claire and Will?”
The boy pressed his face against Maura’s shoulder, as though trying to burrow his way into some safe place where no one could find him.
“Teddy, you have to talk to us,” said Maura and she peeled him away from her. “Where are the others?”
“He put them all in the room …” The boy’s fingers were like claws digging desperately into her arms.
She pried away his fingers, forced him to look at her. “Teddy, where are they?”
“I don’t want to go back to that room!”
“You have to show us. We’ll stay right beside you. Just point us to the place, that’s all you have to do.”
The boy took a shaky breath. “Can I—can I hold the dog? I want the dog to stay with me.”
“Sure, kid,” Julian said. Kneeling down, he handed Teddy the leash. “You hold on to him and he’ll protect you. Bear’s not afraid of anything.”
That seemed to give Teddy the dose of courage he needed. He rose unsteadily to his feet, clutching the dog’s leash as if it were a lifeline, and moved across the kitchen to a door. Taking a deep breath, he opened the latch. The door swung open.
“That’s the old wine cellar,” said Sansone.
“It’s down there,” Teddy whispered, staring into the gloom. “I don’t want to go.”
“It’s okay, Teddy. You can wait right here,” said Sansone. He glanced at Maura, then led the way down the stairs.
With every step they descended, the air felt thicker, danker. Bare lightbulbs hung overhead, casting a yellowish glow on rows and rows of empty wine racks that once must have held thousands of bottles, no doubt only the best French vintages for a railroad tycoon and his guests. The wine had long since been consumed, and the racks stood abandoned, a silent memorial to a golden age of extravagance.
They came to a heavy door, its hinges bolted solidly into stone. An old storeroom. Maura glanced at Julian. “Why don’t you go up to the kitchen and wait with Teddy?”
“Bear’s with him. He’ll be fine.”
“I don’t want you to see this. Please.”
But Julian remained stubbornly by her side as Sansone lifted the latch. In the kitchen above, Bear began to howl, a high, desperate sound that sent
dread screaming up her spine as Sansone swung open the door. That’s when Maura caught the scent from inside that dark room. The smell of sweat. The reek of terror. What she feared most lay before her in the gloom. Four bodies, propped up against the wall.
The children. Dear God, it’s the children.
Sansone found the light switch and flipped it on.
One of the bodies lifted its head. Claire stared at them wide-eyed and gave a frantic whimper, muffled by duct tape. The others stirred, Will and the cook and Dr. Pasquantonio, all of them bound with duct tape and struggling to speak.
They’re alive. They’re all alive!
Maura dropped down beside the girl. “Julian, do you have your knife?”
The dog’s howls were wilder, more frantic, as if pleading with them to hurry, hurry!
With an efficient click, Julian swung open his pocketknife and knelt down. “Sit still, Claire, or I can’t cut you free,” he ordered, but the girl was squirming, her eyes wide with panic as if fighting to breathe. Maura peeled the tape off her mouth.
“It’s a trap!” Claire screamed. “He hasn’t left! He’s right …” Her voice died, her gaze fixed on something—someone—standing behind Maura.
Blood roaring in her ears, Maura turned and saw a man towering in the doorway. Saw broad shoulders and glittering eyes in a face smeared black with paint, but it was the gun in his hand she focused on. The silencer. When he fired, there would be no deafening blast; death would come with a muted thud, heard only in this stone room buried deep within the mountain.
“Drop your weapon, Mr. Sansone,” he ordered. “Do it now.”
He knows our names.
Sansone had no choice; he eased the gun out of his waistband and let it thud to the floor.
Julian, already kneeling beside Maura, reached out and grabbed her hand. Only sixteen, so very young, she thought, as they held hands, squeezing hard.
Bear howled again, a cry of rage. Of frustration.
Julian suddenly looked up, and she saw his bewildered expression. Realized, just as he did, that this did not make sense. If Bear’s still alive, why isn’t he defending us?