Chapter Thirty-Five
Thirty-Five
Harper tried to ignore the song repeating endlessly in her mind: I felt the knife in my hand, and she laughed no more…Why, why, why, Delilah?
“Alastair—may I call you Alastair?” she asked as she worked to free Jenny. “I’m just going to—”
“You’re ‘just going to’ do nothing,” Highbaugh said with a humorless laugh. “You people think you can come in here, do whatever you want. Well, you’re wrong.”
“ ‘You people’? Which people?”
“Exactly! Witch people. I saw you talking to the spirits through that mirror. This town is full of women like you. I knew it. I tried to tell people, but would they listen?”
The ropes were finally loose enough for Jenny to escape, but she remained curled up in a fetal position on the floor, staring at the mirrors and whimpering.
Harper made a point to keep her gaze averted from the mirrors.
Was Jenny seeing Isabel, or was she hallucinating due to whatever Highbaugh had given her?
“Alastair, I need to get Jenny to the hospital. No need for anyone else to die, don’t you think?”
“I never meant to kill anyone,” Highbaugh whispered, and to Harper’s ears he sounded forlorn.
The man’s unhinged.
Highbaugh continued. “Not even Delilah, not really. I slipped plenty of her potion into her wine, and she started to hallucinate. I never meant to stab her; I was simply going to bury her alive, teach her what it felt like to be helpless. But she came at me, tried to scratch me and hit me! It was her fault!”
“Sounds like a clear case of self-defense,” said Harper. “Right? On top of the mental anguish of what happened with your mother, that’s a really good defense, right there.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying you let me take Jenny out of here, and the authorities will—”
He let out a loud snort. “Authorities, indeed. Why would I tell anybody anything? You’re the only one who’s figured it out.”
“Pretty sure you’re wrong there, Alastair. A lot of people have figured it out. Or they will as soon as they test the tarp for DNA, right?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. As a frequent visitor to the Perles Mansion, it would be easy enough to explain the presence of my DNA on anything here.”
“Even better, then,” said Harper, wanting to keep Highbaugh distracted by talking.
She had helped Jenny to her feet, but the young woman was still cowering from whatever she was seeing in the mirrors.
Harper kept her left arm wrapped tightly around the girl, while her right hand reached into her pocket and gripped the canister of pepper spray.
“You see? Nobody knows anything, and they don’t have to know anything.
Jenny’s too incoherent to say anything, and one thing I’m not is a gossip. Mum’s the word.”
“I’m afraid it’s not going to be that easy,” said Highbaugh, his eyes flickering nervously over to the mirrors. “I— What in heaven’s name is that?”
Isabel Perles began to materialize in one panel of the mirrored wall. This time her image was not wispy and ethereal, but solid and lifelike.
Spirit made flesh and bone, and repeated endlessly in the mirrors.
And beside her stood Delilah Mason, her white gown stained with dirt and blood. Her eyes were empty as she slowly lifted one arm and pointed a long, bloody finger at Highbaugh.
Alastair…
Highbaugh screamed.
While he gaped at the apparitions, transfixed in horror, Harper pushed Jenny toward the door, then spun around and shoved Highbaugh as hard as she could, sending him face first into the mirror.
For a moment, the room was completely silent, then she heard a crack!
as the mirror started to split and shatter, and piercing shards of glass rained down upon him.
Highbaugh fell to the floor, hands over his head to protect himself, screaming all the while.
Harper ran from the room and slammed the door behind her. Jenny was crouching in the corner, whimpering. Frantically, Harper looked around for something, anything, to block the door of the Reflection room, then realized the door opened inward. Better to run for it.
Just as Harper grabbed Jenny to help her up, she heard the doorknob rattle. From inside the Reflection room Highbaugh started pounding on the door, shouting, “Open this door! Let me out!”
The door had been locked.
Harper!
Harper grabbed Jenny’s hand and pulled her along the corridor, guiding her down the stairs, down the hallway, past the living room and the cowboy raccoon, and out into the yard. The branches of the great cypress tree swayed and shook in the wind, splattering them with fat raindrops.
Someone opened the garden gate.
Jenny screamed and fell to the ground in a heap.
“Not the greeting I was expecting,” Gabe said. His smile quickly faded as he took in Harper’s expression and Jenny’s tears. “Sorry I’m late, Harp. Looks like I missed out on the action. Are you okay? How can I help?”
Harper glanced up at the windows of the Reflection room on the second story. This time, instead of a silhouette, she saw Highbaugh standing at the broken window.
“Don’t leave me here!” he screamed, looking back and forth behind him. “They’re coming! They’re coming!”
“What the hell? Is that…Alastair?” asked Gabe, helping Jenny to her feet.
“It’s sort of a long story,” Harper said, her voice grim.
When Jenny swayed, Gabe scooped her up in his brawny arms.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Harper.
“Right behind you,” said Gabe.