Help Wanted (16 page)

In desperation she picked up the phone and dialed Faye. She'd waited too long to share all this with her friend—she needed to hear Faye's jokes, needed to hear Faye tell her that she was being silly, that she was blowing everything way out of proportion as usual.

“Sorry, hon, but Zak picked her up early this morning,” Faye's mother apologized. “Can I give her a message?”

Robin's heart sank. “Just … no. No message.”

She felt alone and depressed. For the hundredth time she wished she'd never heard of Manorwood. For the hundredth time she made up her mind to march over there and quit her job.

But then the image of Claudia's face came into her mind.

She saw Claudia's face and she heard Claudia's voice, Claudia's terror, Claudia's confusion, and Robin felt racked with guilt.

So she was surprised as she stood there at the window and heard the doorbell ring. It was only eight o'clock, and she wasn't expecting anyone. And certainly not Claudia, whom she found standing on her porch when she opened the door.

“You're soaking wet!” Robin exclaimed, dragging the girl inside. “Come have some coffee.”

“Are you alone?” Claudia asked nervously.

“Alone? Well, Mom drove up for some parent's thing at my brother's college, but—”

“I mean, is Parker here?” Claudia glanced around the entryway as though she expected her brother to pop out from the wall and terrify her.

“No, why would Parker be here?”

“I thought I heard him last night,” Claudia looked a little sheepish. “I thought I heard him tell Grandfather that he was going to come and see you this morning. I don't want to be here if
he's
going to be here.”

Robin felt a tingle of apprehension but kept her voice calm. “No, he's not here. Why? What's wrong?”

“I found something this morning,” Claudia whispered. “Something … horrible.”

Robin stared at the pitiful little figure dripping all over the hall rug. Claudia's face was gaunt and haggard, and she looked as if she might collapse at any moment.

“What was it?” Robin asked gently.

“A … a hand.”

Robin stared at her.

“A hand,” Claudia said again. “On my pillow.”

“You … found …”

“You act like you don't believe me!” Claudia cried. “You act like you don't believe me, but it's true! I woke up and it was there on my pillow—right beside my head! And all this blood—my mother's blood, I tell you—my mother's hand!”

“Oh, Claudia—”

“You sound just like them! Humoring me! And all the time you don't really believe I saw what I saw!” Claudia's voice broke, and she swayed dangerously. Robin reached out and caught her and ushered her into the kitchen. She sat Claudia down in a chair and poured her a strong cup of coffee.

“Drink this,” Robin ordered. “It'll make you feel better.”
A hand … a hand. Some kind of rubber contraption—some Halloween prop—Parker must have put it there while she was asleep—

“I screamed,” Claudia said in a weary monotone. “I screamed and I screamed. I ran out to the hall, but I couldn't find anybody. I ran downstairs and finally found Winifred, and I brought her back to my room.…” She lowered her eyes, blinking back tears. “But it wasn't there anymore. The hand. It just …” her voice faded, “wasn't there.”

Of course it wasn't
, Robin thought bitterly,
Parker hid it somewhere
, but aloud she said, “Claudia, are you sure it wasn't—you know—part of a costume or something—”

“It was
real!”
Claudia clenched her teeth, and her chin lifted defiantly. “I think I can tell a real hand from a fake hand, Robin. I'm not that crazy yet!”

“No, Claudia, that's not what I meant at all—”

“It'll be soon, though,” Claudia murmured, and Robin had to lean forward to hear her.

“Soon?”

“Yes.” The girl nodded mechanically. “I can feel it. She'll come for me soon. She'll come for me, and this time when it happens, I won't be able to escape like I have all those other times. This time”—her voice trembled—“she'll have me at last.”

Robin sat down on the other side of the table. Her knees felt suddenly shaky, and her cup trembled in her hand.

“I know how it'll happen,” Claudia whispered.

“Stop talking like that,” Robin said, but Claudia didn't seem to hear.

“Because … sometimes I dream about it.” Claudia's lips barely moved. “I'm standing on a high, high cliff. And
she's
there—down at the bottom—holding out her arms to me. ‘Jump, Claudia,' she says, ‘jump and I'll catch you.'”

Robin reached for the girl's hand. It was ice cold.

“I've told my dream to Parker,” Claudia's brow furrowed slightly. “And to Winifred and Grandfather. But they always tell me it's just a nightmare.” She smiled softly. “I know better.”

“Come on, Claudia, don't do this—”

“And you know …” Claudia murmured, “I don't think I'll really mind. It'll be … a relief.” Her eyes lifted slowly, and their chilling resignation sliced straight into Robin's heart. “A relief,” Claudia whispered. “No more running … ever again.”

“I'm going to call your grandfather,” Robin said. She started to get up, but Claudia's hand clamped down on her like a claw.

“Don't … please. You know what he'll do. He'll say you're on his side, and he'll be glad. And then he'll put me somewhere, and I couldn't bear that. Please, Robin. Please. I'd
rather
die. Really. I'd rather be with … with
her
… than locked up somewhere with strangers.”

Robin gazed into Claudia's eyes. She saw their pain, their immeasurable sadness, and suddenly she felt something boil up inside her—something hot and mean and angry.
“Crazy old Claudia,”
Parker had said.
“Crazy old Claudia
—”

Biting her lip, Robin stood up and gave Claudia's hand a firm squeeze.

“You won't have to go anywhere, Claudia,” she said. “I promise.”

Claudia looked confused, but Robin only smiled at her.

“I have work to do,” Robin said.

“You mean … at the house?”

“Yes, but there's something else I have to do first. Will you be all right at home for a while? Can you wait for me there?”

Claudia nodded, an obedient child. “If you want me to.”

“Good. I'll come as soon as I can.”

Robin watched Claudia go off down the sidewalk. She went upstairs and got dressed, and then she left the house.

But this time she didn't go straight to Manorwood.

This time she walked all the way into town and went determinedly into the police station.

R
obin had never felt so humiliated.

As she walked slowly out of the building, she stood a moment blinking back tears, wishing she could just disappear into the cracks of the sidewalk.

Why didn't I stop to think about what I was doing? Why didn't I at least wait and talk to Faye about it first?

Because I couldn't wait for Faye to get home. And because Faye doesn't even know what's going on. And where would I even start trying to explain it all to her now?

Of course the police hadn't believed her.

Of course they'd thought she was just a stupid teenager trying to make up some crazy story, caught up in someone's idea of a joke, a victim of her own overactive imagination.

I should have listened to Walt
.

She could still see the face of the policeman she'd talked to. How he'd sat there with that polite, professional smile, trying so hard to hide his amusement, leaning back in his chair, making doodles with a pencil on his tablet. She'd told him everything—just like she'd told Walt—about the accidents and all the weird things that had happened, and how she thought Parker was trying to set Claudia up to cut her out of her inheritance. Even now she couldn't believe she'd done it, couldn't believe she'd been so idiotic. She wished she could take back every single word she'd said. She wished …

Why didn't I listen to Walt? What have I done?

She'd heard them laughing as she'd left the station. Softly, so she wouldn't know they were making fun of her. Imagine, they were probably saying, even now—coming in with an insane story like that, and even using the Swanson name.

But you haven't been with Claudia like I have … you haven't seen her fear, her terror … you didn't listen to her this morning, all ready to die and be with her mother—

There was no way around it now—if she was going to help Claudia, she was totally on her own.

She looked up into the churning clouds and wiped rain from her cheeks. The sky was a quilted mass of black now, threaded through with jagged spurts of lightning. Robin ducked her head again as a rumble of thunder shook the air around her, and she took off down the street. The storm broke full force as she neared the gates of Manorwood. She quickened her steps, but then froze when the gates suddenly swung open and Parker's sports car sped out of the driveway. Some instinct made Robin jump back and flatten herself into the shrubbery. She was fairly certain she hadn't been noticed, but from her hiding place, she'd been able to get a good look at Parker's face.

His mouth was set in a hard line, and he was hunched down over the wheel, gripping it with both hands. His hair and his clothes looked drenched, and there was mud on his cheeks and what she could see of his jacket.

Robin stayed where she was for a long time, hardly even aware that she was soaked through to her skin. The wind was cold, but not nearly as cold as the shiver that crept through her veins and curled slowly around her heart. With an effort she forced herself on to the gates and up the drive to the house, and was just in time to meet Winifred coming out the front door.

“Oh, Miss Robin,” Winifred greeted her primly, struggling to open her umbrella. “You've gotten caught in the storm!”

“It's nothing. I can dry off by the fire.”

“Are you sure?” the maid fretted. “This is my day off, you know, so if you need anything, please just help yourself.”

“Thanks,” Robin gave a quick smile. “Is Claudia home?”

“Yes, but not feeling very well, poor little thing.” Winifred rolled her eyes and lowered her voice as she leaned toward Robin. “She's such a frail little mouse. Sometimes I—”

She broke off suddenly and straightened, as though realizing she might have confided too much.

Robin tried her best to sound casual.

“What is it, Winifred? Sometimes I worry about Claudia, too.”

“Well …” Again the maid rolled her eyes, as if to reassure herself they weren't being spied upon. “She says she hears things—hears her mother, she says—coming for her—calling for help.”

Robin nodded slowly.

“The men, oh, they never believe her,” Winifred scoffed. “But
I
do! I hear Miss Lillith, just as plain as day! Miss Lillith—calling for help! Sometimes even when I'm there, right there in the room with Claudia!”

Again Robin suppressed a shiver.

“Were they close, Claudia and her mother?” she asked.

“Not hardly, no.” Winifred clutched her handbag and pressed her lips tightly together. “Didn't get along at all, always
at
each other. And them looking so much alike, as you can see!” She shook her head disapprovingly. “Miss Lillith, she was always trying to get Claudia to be like her—do the things she did! She could talk to the dead, you know. She tried to teach Claudia, too, but the poor thing was always too afraid!”

“Teach her?” Robin echoed. “What do you mean?”

“You know! How to have the gift! How to contact that other world where the spirits live! But she's too timid, Miss Claudia is—she'd get scared and cry about it—so finally Miss Lillith stopped trying to force her.”

Robin shook her head sadly. Was there ever anyone in Claudia's life who had really accepted her for who she was?

“She's a sweet little thing,” Winifred added, seeming to pick up on Robin's thoughts. “But … you know … strange. If her mother
did
come for her, I wouldn't be a bit surprised. Do you know what I mean? I think Miss Claudia
expects
it! I think she's
ready!
Just waiting for Miss Lillith to come and take her away from this place!”

There was a creak behind them, and Winifred whirled with a gasp. The hallway was empty. Overhead the lights flickered as thunder shook the walls.

“I'd better be off if I'm going to catch that matinee!” Winifred said, and then she held out her hand to Robin. “Thank you for being a friend to Miss Claudia. She could use one, and that's no lie.”

Robin watched Winifred start down the drive. As soon as the woman had vanished through the wet trees, Robin sighed and closed the door behind her.