Chapter 21 Home Alone （Margot） #2
It looks like a few treasures trapped behind there. No way of getting to them without smashing the beautiful glass.
Sigh.
Another family secret waiting, even if it’s not the priority tonight.
Does it have anything to do with the shoes that had Gramps so upset? My mind drifts back to Holden’s story.
I idly let the light drop to the floor, running a hand through my hair, barely breathing.
My fingers still feel stiff and wrinkly from my cleaning blitz despite wearing gloves the whole time.
I just wish I knew what Gramps was thinking when he left this place behind.
Back when he was alive, I never imagined he had so many layers.
He was just PopPop, a human lighthouse built to weather any storm and shine like the stars through the darkness I’ve only started to understand.
That darkness was his.
And now the lighthouse is gone.
Here I am, mentally and literally wandering the stormy night, wondering if for just a split second, maybe I can find one last dying ember he left behind.
This can’t be unique.
Every family has a few ugly mysteries, sure.
But Blackthorn secrets only burble up to inflict pain.
It’s a miracle Ethan put down the bottle and finally chose to fight for his future.
My phone buzzes then, scaring me to death.
Jesus!
I pull it out to send Kane another hi, I’m not dead text.
Kane: Kids are on the plane. Just took off and I’m leaving now. Might be slow going in this weather.
Right.
Thunder growls down at me through the open storm doors. I wince.
It’s a big enough storm to hit Bar Harbor and snarl any traffic on the small windy backroads to Sully Bay.
Hurry back and stay safe! I send before shoving my phone back in my pocket.
There’s a steady pelting rain now.
Pretty much inevitable with clouds this dense, but I didn’t think it would hit so quickly.
Time to get moving.
I climb back up the stairs carefully since they’re already slick, shielding my face as I look at the sky, which rips open and drops its grief.
Another squall soaks me as I’m fumbling back to the house, making my clothes wet and heavy.
Holy shit, this sucks.
I’m a shivering mess by the time I go pounding through the front door, drenched and tingling from the cold.
I’m so disoriented I don’t notice it at first.
The pantry door half-open.
The small, slightly hunched shadow moving out of it.
I only realize Viola Babin is in the house when I smell the smoke.
She stops by the wall in front of me, a glowing cigarette in one hand and a thick wooden club in the other.
Her hair is dry.
She must’ve got here before the sky split, and there’s a hard darkness in her eyes so much worse than the restless night.
Distant, yet determined.
A little sad.
A lot cruel.
“Awful night for some justice, don’t ya think?” she hisses.
I make a strangled sound, scrambling back into the hallway until I hit the wall in the mudroom.
“Stay back!” I throw out my hands, doing my best to sound scary as I look around desperately for somewhere to run—or at least for a weapon.
What did she say?
Justice?
There’s a nasty smirk on her lips, like she hates the taste of the smoke she’s inhaling, but she needs it anyway like a vampire needs blood.
And I’d guess she needs something darker and thicker than nicotine tonight.
My lungs stop working.
Even worse, she’s blocking me from the kitchen, reducing my chances of grabbing anything useful.
Not good.
Oh, sure, I could make a run for it and try to sprint around her, but there’s no guarantee I’ll get past before she starts swinging that club at my head.
Also, I doubt she’s alone.
If she’s here, odds are Joseph Babin isn’t far behind.
She shifts the club in her hand, smacking it against her palm as I stare at her.
If she hits me with that thing, it’s going to break bones. A head strike could kill me.
She’s not a large woman, but she’s wiry and lean from years working the blueberry fields.
One good hit and it’s lights out. Or at least so much blistering pain I’ll wish I was unconscious.
Crap, crap.
Last I checked, Kane has at least thirty minutes until he’s home. Maybe more in this mess outside.
Another rainy gust shakes the window, reminding me how screwed I am, and Viola smiles.
I can’t stand it, I have to look away.
Just in time to see movement outside the window.
A bigger silhouette stalking the darkness, and I think there’s something bigger and more deadly in his hands.
A baseball bat? A rifle?
Shit.
So that’s where Joseph is, then.
Not in the kitchen. Not yet.
But in less than a minute…
What are they doing here? What do they want? They wouldn’t be crazy enough to just kill me in cold blood… would they?
I don’t realize I’m straining forward, my body reacting faster than my brain, searching for a way around her.
“Don’t even think about it, missy,” Viola snaps, striding closer.
“I can read you like a book. Let’s just say you did get a knife, what do you think you’re gonna do?
Gut me like a fish?” She holds up her club again, brandishing it.
“Don’t bother. It’ll only make it worse if you wanna go out kicking like a scared rabbit. ”
My breath stalls.
“What do you want?” I force out.
She just sucks her cheek as thunder vibrates the house.
“Like I said, awful night for this, but I bet this old place will still burn in the rain with enough good kindling.”
“Burn.” I echo it without meaning to. “Like the gazebo, you mean.”
She throws her head back and laughs, an evil, tinny sound.
“Oh, so someone blabbed about that, huh?” She gives me another carnivorous smile, stepping forward so I’m forced to back up, closer to the door.
But there’s nowhere left for me to go with Joseph outside.
“Half the folks in town thought we were behind it. But there was no proof, was there? Things are harder now, but not when you’re smart.
Those fancy cameras you put up don’t work half as well as you think. ”
Oh my God.
I don’t even know if they knocked out the one by the door or if I was too distracted by the storm to notice.
There’ll be proof this time, if I have anything to say about it.
Only, that hinges on survival first. I have zero doubt she intends to leave me beaten or dead to burn up with the house.
My phone hums in my pocket, but with that club in her hand, I don’t dare reach for it.
My heart hammers in my throat, so fast it’s sickening.
Every time the wind moans, I think it’s Joseph lighting a fire.
But he wouldn’t do it yet.
Not with his wife still inside.
“Why?” I whisper. “Why get this crazy over—”
“Crazy? Girl, it’s been a long time coming.
You know what that’s like, spending your whole life staring at land that was stolen by some rich cockadoodie who don’t even live here?
Tonight, we’re putting it right. We’re reclaiming what’s always been ours.
” She stares straight through me. I keep my eyes fixed on the club in her hand.
“The storm’ll prevent anyone from coming to the rescue, knowing how bad the cops get tied up on nights like this. ”
The worst part is, she’s right.
Any small-town police force will be busy with accidents and cars run off the road. There won’t be anyone on the little road by the lake house. No one will notice the blaze and call it in until the house is toast.
That is, unless I can get in touch with someone, which I can’t without my phone.
She’s closer now, almost pinning me against the wall.
Then lightning flashes, and I see my chance.
Screaming, I rush forward, darting under her arm as I plow into her.
Maybe she’s stronger, but I’m younger and faster.
I knock her off-kilter for the tiniest second.
Just enough time to swerve, avoiding her club.
Then I go pounding through the kitchen, the living room, and then beyond to the study.
A few more steps. Come on! Come on!
I slam the door shut behind me, turning the lock.
Behind it, Viola howls with rage.
Her hateful scream merges with the pounding storm, even when she starts slamming her fists against the door.
Whatever state the rest of the place is in, the doors are solid slabs.
Thanks, Gramps and Holden.
At least there are makeshift weapons in here.
I look around wildly.
Antique chairs, but they’re the old-fashioned kind, way too heavy for me to lug around and throw easily.
A solid lamp, maybe. A club of my own.
And beside it, on the desk, I see Dan’s little drummer boy from the fort. He must’ve left it behind in the rush to pack up and leave.
I feel the big key on the back, and I start winding it as she hisses obscenities, trying her best to break down the door.
All I need is a quick distraction.
Something to draw her attention for a few seconds, and I’ll have the upper hand. That lamp is solid brass and must weigh ten pounds.
One good swing and she’ll go down.
The door shakes. Hinges groan as her kicks get louder.
The wind rattles the old glass window behind.
My hands are shaking, but I’ve never been more ready in my life.
“You feisty little bitch! Get back here!” Viola shrieks, slamming her boot at the door again, the wood creaking under the strain. The hinges wrench, only held on by a few loose screws. “I was gonna make it quick, but now you’ll pay!”
Drummer boy, let’s go!
I set him down a couple feet in front of the door and unplug the lamp, hoisting it in my hand as I stand to one side. I’ll be behind the door when it breaks open.
The little metal figure bangs his drums as he marches forward, just as the door gives one last miserable crack!
Viola charges through it like a mad horse.
She instantly sees the tiny moving figure in the middle of the floor and stops, this puzzled look on her face.
Bingo!
I raise the lamp, ready to wait one more second until she’s in range, but she pitches forward before I swing.
Huh?
She crashes down on top of the toy and there’s a metallic crunch.
What happened? With the lamp still clutched in my hands, I turn to the large, dark figure in the doorway.
“Kane!” I gush out, running forward, relief coursing through me. “Oh, thank God. I didn’t think you’d be back yet. Viola and Joseph, they’re planning to…” I trail off as lightning flashes in the window, revealing his face.
Not Kane.
“Lee?” I whisper, fumbling for the light switch and flicking it on. The clear view only proves what I knew—it’s Lee Glazkov, the ceramics guy.
I don’t understand.
“What are you doing here?” I croak. My voice has rusted shut.
Instead of smiling, he looks at me coldly. No hint of the same warmth whatsoever at the craft fair or the museum.
No smile.
No compassion.
No relief that I’m okay even though he just whacked Viola Babin to the floor.
He had to know she was trying to hurt me.
I’m so confused.
“You know, Miss Margot,” he says flatly, “you really should have left with the kids when I told you.”
Oh no.
Oh fuck no.
“You… you left the note?” I whisper, backing away, horror gripping my throat.
“I thought I made myself clear, yes. You and the kids had to leave. They’re gone, yet you’re still here.” There’s a sadness in his tone that scares me.
“But what do you want? Why are you doing this?” My voice rises.
With a disinterested sigh, he nudges a limp Viola away with the toe of his boot.
“I warned you, didn’t I? Just look at this. You and your ‘friends’ have made my life very, very complicated.”
Friends.
Does that mean he found Joseph, too?
But what the hell does he want with me?
I have to warn Kane.
His eyes flicker darkly the second I reach into my pocket, touching my phone.
His thin, vacant smile tells me one thing: he’s no savior, and the Babins were the easiest part of this nightmare.