John Saul - The Right Hand of Evil

"Don't worry about him," Ted had advised her when she'd looked for Jared after the priests had left, and discovered he wasn't in the house. "He's pretty angry, and frankly, I don't blame him. If Father MacNeill had been accusing me, I think I might actually have thrown a punch at that sanctimonious bastard."

"Ted!"

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you think MacNeill had a right to come around here acting like-"

"It's irrelevant what I think about Father MacNeill-I'm not his mother. But I am Jared's mother, and it doesn't matter how angry he was. I won't have him talking like that to anyone! And I won't have him simply walking in and out of the house anytime he feels like it, either! Especially not tonight. I don't want him out on Halloween! If there's any trouble-any trouble at all-everyone will blame Jared. I know it!"

"But there's not going to be any trouble," Ted had argued.

So far, he'd been right. As dusk came on, Janet readied a bowl of candy for the trick-or-treaters, but even as she placed it on a table near the front door, she wondered how many of the town's children would come to their house.

And how many would throw eggs, or leave burning bags of dog dung on the porch?

When there'd been no knocks at the door by eight-thirty, she understood that none of the children would come, but she still kept going to the window and peering out into the darkness, her nerves on edge.

Between trips to the window, she tried to concentrate on the mural, but failed. And now, as she gazed at the trompe l'oeil she'd created on the wall, she knew she shouldn't have tried to work at all, for the scene depicted beyond the faux French doors no longer seemed quite as real as it had this morning. Yet she couldn't put her finger on what was wrong-the perspective was right, and so was the lighting from the not-quite-visible moon. Maybe something in the shadowy areas at the far side of the garden? The clock in the living room struck eleven, and realizing how late it was, Janet abandoned her paints and went into the library. Ted was working at his desk, studying the bids for the construction of a reception desk in the foyer. He looked up when she came in, his smile fading as he read the worry in her eyes.

"It's eleven o'clock," she said. "And Jared still isn't home." Ted stood up and came around the desk, slipping his arms around her.

"How about if I go have a look around and see if I can spot him?"

Janet looked anxiously into his eyes. "Will you? I keep thinking I ought to call the police, or the hospital."

"Not yet," Ted counseled. "It's Halloween, and I'll bet whatever he's doing, he's not planning to be back until midnight."

"Which is exactly why I want him home," Janet said. "Of all the nights for him to-"

"Tell you what," Ted broke in. "I'll go out and check the pizza parlor and the drive-in, and swing by Luke Roberts's house. If I don't find him, we'll call the hospital. In fact, I'll stop by there before I come home. But I'm sure he's okay. Try to take it easy, at least until I get back, okay?"

Janet slipped her arms around his neck and pressed herself close to him, but even the strength of his body did nothing to calm her edgy nerves. "I'll try," she agreed. "I don't think I'll be able to, but I'll try."

"And go to bed," Ted told her. "You've been working all afternoon and all evening, and you're exhausted. Just relax. I'll find him."

After Ted was gone, Janet returned to the dining room, looked once more at the mural, then cleaned her brushes, put away her palette, and started upstairs. She'd just come to the landing where the great staircase split when a wave of apprehension broke over her.

Something was wrong.

She held still, listening.

Silence.

Yet she still felt… what?

Stop it! she commanded herself. It's nothing but nerves because it's Halloween, and Jared's not here, and suddenly everything seems to be going wrong again. Yet before she continued up the stairs, she turned to gaze down into the great empty expanse of the entry hall. She'd turned most of the lights down, but now, as she peered down into the gloom below, she wished she hadn't. Somehow the cavernous room seemed to have grown even larger, its corners lost in shadowed darkness.

Unbidden, the memory of the night Kim had sworn she'd seen rats in the bathroom came to her, and Janet shuddered as she thought of what might be lurking in the dark corners of the house. There's nothing, she silently repeated. Nothing. But she hurried her step as she went up the short flight to the mezzanine.

As she came to Molly's door, she felt it.

It was as if a cold hand had been laid on her back, stopping her short. The chill intensified, wrapping around her like a shawl knitted of ice.

It had to be nothing more than a draft. But the door was shut tight, and even the crack beneath it wasn't wide enough to permit the kind of cold she was feeling to seep through.

Janet reached out, her hand closing on the glass knob of the nursery door. It was like holding an ice crystal in her hand.

She turned the knob and pushed the door open. It creaked softly, and she heard Molly stir.

She stepped inside the room, and the chill lost its edge. Hurrying to the crib, she bent over and peered down at her sleeping child. Molly's eyes opened a crack, glinting in the soft moonlight that filled the room, then she went back to sleep. Tucking the child's blanket close around her, Janet bent lower, her lips brushing Molly's forehead.

Molly sighed contentedly, then curled on her side, her right thumb sliding into her mouth.

Satisfied that her youngest child was sleeping peacefully, Janet tiptoed out of the room.

The chill had vanished as quickly as it came.

In the master bedroom she undressed, put on a nightgown and robe, and slid into bed. Switching on the lamp on the bedside table, she picked up a magazine. Maybe reading would keep her worries about Jared at bay, she thought, at least until Ted came home.

And then she heard it.

A sobbing sound, muffled and indistinct.

At first she thought she'd imagined it, but then she heard it again.

Molly?

Throwing the light cover aside, Janet got out of bed and went to the door that joined the master bedroom to Molly's room. She listened, heard nothing, and opened the door a crack.

Silence.

She closed the door again, and went to the other door-the one that led to the mezzanine-and listened.

There it was again, but louder now.

Janet's pulse quickened, but she steeled herself and pulled the door open.

The sobbing increased, swelling into an anguished moan.

A knot of fear formed in her stomach, but she pulled the robe tight around her, tied the belt, and stepped out onto the mezzanine.

Then she heard the cry: "No!"

The single word died away as quickly as it had come, but in the instant it hung in the air, Janet recognized Kim's voice. Racing to the far end of the hall, she twisted the knob of Kim's door, threw it open, and flicked on the lights. She was blinded by the sudden glare for a second, then saw Kim huddled on her bed, sobbing. Her arms went around her daughter, pulling her close.

"It's all right, Kimmie," she whispered, using the nickname her older daughter had shed five years ago, on her tenth birthday. "It was only a bad dream. I'm here."

"It was Jared," Kim cried. "Mom, it was awful! He-He killed Scout!"

"No," Janet soothed. "It was just a dream, Kim. It didn't really happen."

"What's doing it, Mom?" Kim sobbed. "What's making me have these terrible dreams about Jared?"

"What dreams?'' Janet asked. Settling herself onto the bed next to Kim, she gently eased her daughter's head onto her lap. "Honey, what have you been dreaming?"

Kim hesitated, recalling images from her nightmares. Then, slowly, she began talking, telling her mother about the strange things she'd seen in her dreams, the terrible things she'd witnessed Jared doing. "But they weren't like real dreams at all, Mom," she finished. "They were so real, it seemed like it was all really happening! But it couldn't have happened, could it?"