Chapter 29
Waverly
Traeger Hall
Theophilus dumped her onto a chair opposite her uncle’s desk. He pulled a landscape painting off the wall and slammed his palm against the safe hidden behind it. Its door was partway open. He spun back around to Waverly. “Leopold didn’t keep it where he said he would.”
“What are you looking for?” Waverly had no idea what Theophilus was referring to.
“The miniature of Fidelia. Where did Leopold hide it?”
“Is . . . is Louisa’s mother dead?” Waverly breathed deeply while trying to figure out a way to escape this cold, even more terrifying version of Uncle Leopold—no, Theophilus.
Theophilus’s expression was pained as he rifled through the safe’s contents.
“I told Leopold I was done switching places. I couldn’t care less about acquiring more art, more wealth, the under-the-table deals.
And he had Fidelia ‘taken care of’—that’s what he called it!
” The veins in Theophilus’s neck began to bulge.
His anger and his grief were fast overpowering him.
“Leopold thought Fidelia was a distraction, but she was my life! He was only worried about our assets, our agreements. He was afraid if I backed out of everything, if I claimed Louisa as my daughter . . .” Theophilus punched the wall.
“Leopold knew that if anything came down, it would come down on him and not me.”
“The gunshot in the dining room?”
“I missed,” Theophilus said. “And my brother Leopold had to have the last word. He made that ridiculous change to his last will and testament, demanding that the house be sealed shut after his death, and thereby keeping me out of this place forever. He cut me and Louisa out of inheriting the estate. How am I supposed to show up now as Leopold Traeger and say it was all just a terrible accident but that I’ve recovered?
Leopold is dead, and I can’t even maneuver Louisa into place to inherit what’s rightfully hers—what belongs to me.
Why? Because my brother double-crossed me! ”
Theophilus had been cheated by a dead man. Waverly tried to catch her breath and think rationally. What would Titus do? Aside from engaging in a fistfight, he’d probably throw Theophilus out the window. She wasn’t capable of either. Which was a shame.
“I wanted my brother dead.”
“You gave him fourteen stab wounds! I would quite agree that you did!” Waverly exclaimed. “Does Preston know?” She knew she was pushing her luck, but she had to know.
“Preston Scofield is a dimwit. He’s focused only on legitimate businesses. He has no idea all that we accomplished on the side.”
“And Mr. Grossman?” Waverly asked.
Theophilus clicked his tongue. “Why on earth would Leopold reveal any of this to his lawyer? Does Mr. Grossman strike you as savvy?”
Waverly shook her head.
“No. Mr. Grossman did whatever Leopold told him to do. Hence that fiendish will of his.”
“Then why are you still here?” Waverly pressed.
Theophilus approached and lifted her chin with his finger. “I want my paintings. I want Fidelia’s miniature self-portrait. I want what belongs to me and Louisa.”
“But Louisa doesn’t know about you . . .” Waverly let her sentence hang as Theophilus’s features darkened.
“She will. All of this got messy quite fast. Then your aunt rang that infernal bell. By the time I got to her, it was too late. There was no way to feign injury and take Leopold’s place. There wasn’t enough time to get rid of his body.”
Then Theophilus grabbed her and jerked her head toward him.
Waverly whimpered beneath his grip.
He bent down until his nose almost grazed hers. “But there is no one here to ring the bell for you, is there?”
Jennie
Newton Creek, Wisconsin
Present Day
She heard the bell, a tolling bell in the distance.
Her leg burned where a bullet had grazed it. Jennie huddled in the corner of the study, relying on the darkness to conceal her.
Todd moaned, pacing the floor.
Jennie caught glimpses of him as he shuffled in and out of the pool of light from the flashlight he’d knocked to the floor. He held his hands to his ears.
The bell continued to ring.
The bell!
Jennie held her breath. The ringing bell was a pure miracle! It was only she and Todd in Traeger Hall. No one else knew about the secret passageway into the bell tower.
She wasn’t sure just how long it had been ringing. After the bullet grazed her leg, she had blacked out for a moment. The adrenaline and shock proved to be a bad combination.
“Make it stop!” Todd sank onto a chair. He rocked back and forth. “Stop.”
Jennie took the opportunity to shift onto her hands and knees again. If she could crawl from the room quietly, she might be able to get past Todd this time. She’d counted three gunshots. If he had a fully loaded clip, that meant he still had at least another seven rounds.
She felt her way across the floor. The ringing of the bell was insistent. She could almost see the old copper-green bell swinging back and forth.
At last, Jennie’s hand reached the doorframe.
She was careful to feel her way through in the blackness.
Her leg burned from the bullet wound. She was sure, though, it was only a graze.
Jennie saw a glimmer of light at the doorway.
The light was coming from where she and Zane had busted through the front entrance only a few days before.
She had to hurry. By taking just a few steps, Todd would see her form crawling on the floor. She needed to stand now . . .
Jennie palmed the wall, bracing herself against it as she pulled herself up. Her right leg felt strong while her left throbbed in pain, although she found she could put her weight on it. That was good.
She limped toward the front entrance. The closer she got, the more the daylight illuminated the space. Illuminated the darkness, the secrets, the ugliness that was Traeger Hall. She glanced at the portrait of the young woman. Louisa Theophilus. She was watching. These were her secrets.
Jennie heard Todd’s shout over the pealing of the bell. A thud told her he’d risen to his feet. He would be going after her. She headed for the entrance with the opening, broken through brick and mortar, an unwelcome but needed opening to a world of greed and grief.
“Jennie!” A figure at the opening appeared. He squeezed through it, grabbing her as she collapsed.
“Zane! We need to get out of here! Todd Quincy, he has a gun . . .”
Waverly
Traeger Hall
November 1890
When the bell began to peal, both Waverly and Theophilus met each other’s eyes. Hers filled with hope, his with outright panic.
“Not again!” he hissed. Theophilus charged to the doorway of the study, peering up and down the corridor as if he’d find the answer as to who was ringing the bell.
Was it Aveline? Had she returned in time to have overheard them and was now calling for help? Waverly had to help her, otherwise their rescuers would arrive at another dreadful scene like with Uncle Leopold and Aunt Cornelia. The two of them slain—Waverly in the study, Aveline in the bell tower.
Theophilus turned and sprang at Waverly.
Screaming, she slid from the chair to the floor like a limp rag.
He had not been expecting that! Waverly rolled across the floor, twisting in her skirts until she reached the doorframe.
She pulled herself to her feet as Theophilus wrestled with the chair that had toppled on him when he missed his wild grab for Waverly.
Waverly sprinted down the hallway toward the front entrance but hesitated at the staircase. Should she help Aveline first? They could both find themselves trapped in the bell tower. Waverly wasted no time and raced for the door, tugging it open and rushing out onto the veranda.
Fresh air assaulted her face. The bell continued to ring in the tower, pealing over the countryside.
In the distance, she could see people running toward Traeger Hall.
They were moving faster this time. Having found two murdered victims at the Hall only a week prior, no one wanted to witness such a thing a second time.
Theophilus hadn’t chased after her. Waverly stumbled down the stairs. She suspected he had gone to Aveline. To the bell tower.
The first man to reach her she didn’t know, but she gasped out, “Bell tower! He’s in the tower!”
Constable Morgan hopped down from a carriage that barreled up the road.
In the minutes that followed, Waverly found herself watching the chaotic world around her as if she were merely a curiosity seeker out on a walk.
As she crossed the lawn, the bell finally ceased its ringing.
Then she heard Aveline, weeping, as a couple of men helped her from the bell tower.
In that moment, Waverly quite liked Aveline once again.
She would need a friend once she came to realize the error of her ways and the manipulation of a wicked man. Aveline had earned that after today.
Waverly leaned against a tree, hugging herself, as the wind was a bit chilly.
Preston had arrived and was watching in shock and fear as they led Theophilus Traeger from the innards of Traeger Hall.
Let Preston be afraid of the specter for at least a full day or more.
Let him believe that Uncle Leopold had in fact risen from the spirit world to haunt Preston for his greed.
And there was the undertaker. Titus Fitzgerald.
She smiled broadly as he swept up to her and grasped her arms. His eyes were remarkably blue, so much so that Waverly wondered if she could see her reflection in them.
“Waverly, you’re in shock,” Titus said.
“No, I’m quite all right.” Yet everything was a bit blurry, and he was spinning . . .
“Waverly?” Titus seemed bothered.
She reached out and patted his cheek. “You poor man. I suppose you spent the day preparing Mr. Lichten for his burial.”
And then Titus turned black as night. She couldn’t see him at all anymore. But she could feel him. Feel his arms. He was carrying her. At least that was what she thought before slipping into utter oblivion.
Jennie
Newton Creek, Wisconsin
Present Day
The next several minutes were chaos. Zane pulled Jennie from Traeger Hall as Todd stumbled toward them from the hallway.
The police arrived with sirens blaring. Then came an ambulance, followed by a fire truck.
Jennie was ushered off to the ambulance, where she was immediately given oxygen. An EMT began assessing her leg. She watched, half in shock, as a few police officers escorted Todd down the steps of Traeger Hall.
But it was when a cop carried Milo from the Hall, followed by a terrified-looking Hannah, that Jennie shoved away the EMT and ripped the oxygen mask from her face.
“Milo!” she cried. “Hannah!” Staggering across the lawn, the EMT shouting at her, Jennie rushed toward the little boy, whose glasses were half broken on his face. His dark hair was mussed and covered in cobwebs. She saw Hannah hurrying toward them with old blueprints rolled up in her hand.
Zane took Milo from the officer’s arms and held the boy tight. Jennie managed to join them. She grabbed ahold of Zane’s arm, feeling blood trailing down her leg.
“Why is Milo here? Milo, are you all right? Hannah? What happened!”
Milo pushed against Zane, his eyes wide. “Uh . . .” he began.
Zane was trying to squelch the boy’s urgent emotions and opt for calmer ones, so that Milo wouldn’t spiral downward. While doing so, Zane speared his sister with a look that told her he was both proud of her and infuriated with her.
“Did you follow Jennie here?” Zane demanded.
Hannah nodded, tears staining her cheeks.
She lifted the rolled-up blueprints. “I was up most the night. I found these in the bottom of Allison’s box.
There’s a secret passageway into the bell tower.
I was planning to tell you about it this morning, but then I saw Jennie leave.
So I followed. I had no idea Milo was following me, and then—”
“Jee.” Milo pointed at Jennie, interrupting Hannah.
“Yes, Jennie.” Zane exchanged glances with her but kept his hold on Milo’s arms. “Buddy, you can’t . . .” His voice broke. He looked to Jennie, then to Milo, and finally to Hannah. “You rang the bell?”
“We both did,” Hannah said, tears rolling down her cheeks again. “Milo and I both did.”
The tears were impossible to hold back. Jennie reached for Milo, and the boy came into her arms of his own choosing.
“Jee,” he said again. Calmly as though nothing had happened.
Zane pulled Hannah into his arms with a gruff motion.
“They rang the bell for me.” Jennie wept, hardly able to reconcile all that had occurred. “They rang the bell for me.”