Amanda Stevens - The Restorer

My gaze moved to Daniel’s wrist. His shirtsleeve hid the scars, but I could still see them in my mind, a jagged crisscross of agony.

Clayton bound their wrists together and forced the knife into the kid’s hand. Forced him to plunge the blade into that poor dog’s heart.

The ghost of Clayton Masterson had worn shackles last night. One end fastened about his wrist, the other end dangling free…because Daniel had been waiting for him in the front yard. The silhouette I saw at the end of the porch…

Still clutching his legs, Daniel began to rock back and forth, humming beneath his breath. He laid his cheek on his knees and watched me. “Do you know why this house is safe for you?” he finally asked.

I shook my head again.

“There used to be an orphanage on the property. This is where the chapel was located. Eventually, there were so many orphans, they had to relocate to another facility out of the city. That place burned down in 1907 and a lot of the children died.”

The angels, I thought. Papa’s angels had a connection to this house. No wonder I felt so safe here. Until now…

He lifted his head and glanced around. “I knew this place was special the moment I first set foot inside. You’re lucky to have found it. Though I’m not sure luck had much to do with it. Everything happens for a reason. Why else were you sent to Oak Grove if not to free me?”

“How…long…?”

“Have I been watching you? Since that night at Rapture. I came here to keep track of you. I needed to know your weak nesses, your routine. How best to approach you. It was easy because your neighbor’s schedule is so erratic. But then when he left on vacation, I got the idea that I could stay here. That I might be safe here, too. But it was only a temporary reprieve. There is only one way I can truly be free of him.”

He reached over and very gently checked the dilation of my pupils. “I saw your face that night at Rapture, you know. You spotted Clayton’s ghost in the garden. No one else would have noticed that look in your eyes, but I knew. I knew.”

He went back to rocking.

“All these years, no one else could ever see him. You have no idea how lonely that was for me.”

“You’re…wrong…”

He put a hand on my arm in remorse. “Forgive me. I spoke out of turn. You’re the only one, perhaps in the whole world, who can understand what I’ve had to live with.”

I heard both wonder and sorrow in his voice.

Then his eyes filled with tears. “You can’t get rid of them, you know.”

“I…know.”

“No matter how deeply I sliced, I couldn’t cut him loose. And then I saw you at Rapture and I thought maybe there was hope after all. I went home that very night and began to plan how it would end. It took some time and I had to be careful that Clayton didn’t catch on. I knew he would try to find a way to stop me, but this time I was too clever for him. I finished my last book, put all my affairs in order and then I sent you clues so the bodies could be found. I couldn’t go with that on my conscience. I tried to give most of them a decent burial with the proper respect but it wasn’t always possible…”

“How…many?”

He closed his eyes and shuddered. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count. I tried to be judicious with the selection…choose only those poor souls that needed freeing. The rest was Clayton. The shackles, the torture…” He said the last word on a whisper. “I was once foolish enough to think that I could stop him, back when we were young. I was so happy when the police took him away that time—like I’d been reborn—but eventually he got out of that place and showed up at Emerson. When he told me what he had done to my cousin Afton…that he had been plotting her death for years to taunt me, to spite me…I knew I would have to find a way to end it. He would never leave me alone.”

“You…”

“Yes, I killed him. And his ghost has been bound to me all these years. Still making me kill.” He stared at me through tormented eyes. Haunted eyes. “You have no idea the things he’s forced me to do. Those poor women…”

He rocked now with his eyes closed. “Time and again I tried to end it…take my own life, but he always found a way to stop me. And then one day I realized that even if I managed to kill myself, he would have been waiting on the other side…binding me to him for all eternity…” His breath caught on a little sob, and in spite of everything, I felt a rush of pity because I knew he spoke the truth. He had been driven to the very brink of madness by Clayton’s ghost.

He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “But it’s all right now because I know now how to finally end it. Every last obstacle has been removed.”

“Camille…?”

He drew a shaky breath. “I didn’t want that. If there’d been any other way…”

He had killed Camille. Not Clayton. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, there was a bit of that monster inside him.

“I thought you’d caught something with your camera that day, but you were never a threat. It was Camille. She saw me on the path one night coming back from Oak Grove. I told her I was researching my book, but she was too smart for her own good and started asking questions. If she could have just left well enough alone for a little while longer, it wouldn’t have mattered. She could have gone to the police, told them what she suspected and I would have still been free of Clayton forever.”

“How…?”

“By allowing him to come to you, Amelia.”

An icy shiver went through me.

“After tonight it wouldn’t have mattered,” he repeated sadly.

And then I understood. The moment Clayton’s ghost latched onto me, Daniel planned to kill himself. It was the only way he could be free of his ghost. For all eternity.

“Sleep now,” he said softly. “It’ll soon be over.”

I woke up with the taste of vomit in my mouth and the smell of decay in my nostrils. The surface beneath me was cold and rough, and something cut into my cheek so I tried to lift my head. A wave of nausea rolled over me and I retched violently.

Collapsing back to the floor, I lay perfectly still until my head began to clear. Bits and pieces came back to me. Daniel Meakin had been in my house. He’d confessed to killing Clayton Masterson. What was it Ethan had said about the murder? At least seven major stab wounds. It was a vicious kill.

He’d tried to free himself of his tormentor, only to find he was still bound to Clayton’s ghost. Now he meant to lure Clayton to me.

Stumbling to my feet, I shuffled forward until I felt the wall. It was damp and slimy, like the walls in the chamber below Oak Grove.

I reached down and patted my pocket, surprised to find he’d left my cell phone on me. Why wouldn’t he? There was no signal down here, no way of calling for help. At least the display offered some illumination and maybe that was his intention. I’d gotten the impression he wanted me to think kindly of him. It was important to him that I understand his motivation.

I did understand. But I couldn’t condone or forgive.

Holding the light up, I inspected my prison. Ancient, brick walls. Thick, drapey cobwebs. I had a feeling I was deep, deep underground, in an undiscovered part of the tunnel, but unlike before, I saw no opening, no door, no way out. Nothing but solid brick.

How could that be? He’d put me in here. There had to be a way out.

Unless the wall had been sealed behind me…

A scream welled in my throat, but I pushed it back down. I couldn’t panic. I couldn’t lose my focus or I would be doomed.

I walked the room again and again, tearing through the sticky webs and prying at bricks until my fingers were raw and bleeding.