Carole Page - In Search Of Her Own

Victoria gazed appreciatively around the neat, homespun room. How inviting the bed looked with its fluffy eiderdown quilt! “Thank you, Mrs. Hewlett. I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable here.”

Maude nodded. “You should be. It’s a good, comfortable room. Belonged to my daughter when she lived at home.” She stepped back out of the doorway. “I’ll leave you be now. Breakfast is at seven sharp.”

As soon as Victoria shut the door, she sank down on the bed with delicious relief and let her aching muscles relax. If she wasn’t careful, she would fall asleep in her clothes. I promised to call Phillip when I arrived, she remembered suddenly. He’ll worry if he doesn’t hear from me tonight.

She sat up and reached for the phone on the night table. Phillip answered on the first ring. The sound of his voice sent a tickle of excitement through her She missed him already. “Were you sitting on the phone?” she inquired lightly.

“Just about,” he admitted. “Frankly, I was beginning to think I should have driven you, after all.”

“I was beginning to wish that, too.”

“The trip that bad?”

“That long.”

“I’m sorry. I really would like to have been with you.”

“Me, too. You have a way of making time pass more quickly.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment, but I’ll take it as one.” His voice lowered a notch as he asked, “Have you found out anything yet?”

“No, nothing. It’s too soon. I had a rather interesting chat with the Hewletts tonight, but I’m afraid I did most of the talking.”

“Is that wise?”

“Probably not. But they asked me about my thesis. Once I get going on that, I—”

“Victoria,” Phillip interrupted.

“What is it?”

“That sound in the phone. Do you hear it? Sort of a hollow, airy echo.”

“I hear you fine, Phillip.”

There was a sudden click and the echo was gone.

“Someone was listening in, Victoria,” said Phillip.

“You mean someone here.the Hewletts?” asked Victoria incredulously.

“You bet. We’ve got to watch what we say. If you have something to tell me, go to a pay phone somewhere.”

“Are you saying the Hewletts suspect something?”

“Who knows? But we can’t take a chance. Everything you do and say must be above suspicion. That’s the only way I’ll let you stay there.”

“This was my decision, Phillip,” she reminded him gently. “And I alone will decide when I leave.”

“All right, Victoria,” he replied coolly. “But let me remind you, this isn’t a game you’re playing The stakes are very real. Your life could be in danger.”

Phillip’s warning played jarringly in Victoria’s mind later as she slipped into bed and pulled the covers up around her neck. Even though her body was exhausted, she wasn’t sure her mind would let her sleep She argued silently with herself. Surely Phillip doesn’t really believe my life is in danger. But how trustworthy are the Hewletts? They’re an odd sort, but certainly they wouldn’t harm me. Nor can I believe they would do anything to hurt their own grandchild. But then, where is Joshua? One thing for sure, he’s nowhere in this house, or Maude never would have rented me this room. But why does she claim he’s dead? Is he? she wondered. The idea was unbearable. After all these years, when Victoria had finally dared to reach out to her son—he couldn’t be dead!

She thought about the photograph in the living room of Joshua with his adoptive mother. She traced his features in her mind-his soft red hair, his little impish smile, the darling freckles on his upturned nose. She imagined herself holding him in her arms the way the woman in the picture held him. Then a wrenching thought gripped her. Who was comforting Joshua now that his adoptive mother was dead? Who was wiping his tears?

Dear God, please—where on earth is my son?

Victoria found that more than her anxieties over Joshua kept her awake. Being in a strange, new place made sleeping difficult, too. She heard peculiar noises—water running through the pipes, the constant scntch-scratch of a tree limb on her window and the chill wind creaking through the weathered timber of the old house.

At last she fell into an uneasy slumber punctuated by garish dreams and heart-pounding nightmares. Shortly after midnight she woke with a start and looked around wildly. The room was dark except for the green glowing hands of the alarm clock. She had heard a sound, something more than the steady ticking of the clock. Lying still, her body tensed, she listened, waiting, scarcely breathing.

There was nothing but the rhythmic scratching of the branch on the windowpane.

Just as she was about to sink back into her dreams, Victoria heard the sound that had yanked her bolt upright out of sleep. An agonized, ear-splitting scream.

Victoria jumped out of bed and flung on her robe. She crept silently across the dark room. Trembling, she opened her bedroom door and peered out into the hall. Nothing but silence, darkness.

What do I do now? she wondered.

As she stood in the doorway, she heard the scuffling of slippers from the far end of the house. The hall light went on and Victoria blinked against the brightness as her eyes gradually focused on Maude Hewlett.

The robed woman scowled at Victoria and snapped, “What’s the matter?”

“I—I heard something,” said Victoria. “It sounded like a scream.”

“Naw,” grunted Maude. “It was them cats in the backyard. When they get going they sound like a bunch of banshees. Don’t worry. I shooed them away.”

“I see,” said Victoria, hesitating.

“Go on back to sleep,” Maude ordered.

Victoria slipped back into her room and shut the door. Even as she lay back down, she couldn’t quell the alarm she felt. It wasn’t a cat she had heard. The sound hadn’t come from the backyard. The terrible, flesh-crawling scream had broken from somewhere in the very soul of the Hewlett house.

At breakfast Victoria waited to see whether the Hewletts would mention the scream she had heard last night Neither Maude nor Sam said a word. Victoria decided not to bring up the subject, either. “Is the library near here?” she inquired as she finished her coffee.

“Coupla miles.” Sam snorted “On Pine Avenue, north of here.”

“More scrambled eggs?” asked Maude, offering Victoria the bowl.

“No thanks,” said Victoria. “But everything was delicious “

“You don’t eat enough to keep a flea alive,” scoffed Maude. “Our Julia was like that. Always on a diet. Always afraid of putting on a few pounds.”

“You mean the girl in the photograph?” asked Victoria, perking up

Maude nodded “Yeah. Our daughter. I told you that before.” She handed the bowl of eggs to Sam. “Here, you finish these No sense them going to waste.”

Victoria waited, hoping Maude would continue talking about her daughter. I need all the information I can get, she reflected, but I don’t dare probe. Asking questions will only arouse suspicion. But if Sam and Maude are the closemouthed types they appear to be, how will I ever find out what happened to my son?

“You gonna go work on that book of yours?” queried Sam

“What?” Victoria asked absently

“The library—you going there to write your book?”

“My thesis? No, I’m still in the research stage. I need to check out books written by the two authors, plus whatever has been published about them by other writers.”

“Sounds like a heap of work,” said Sam, swallowing a mouthful of coffee.

“Yes, it is,” Victoria agreed. “But I enjoy it” She stood and carefully replaced her chair. “I probably won’t be back until early this evening “