Chapter 66
I don’t have a plan fully formed, but I will wing it. And for some reason, I just believe it will work out. Topher will get on that plane. I’ll have a week at Wildwood to learn what happened to Lydia. Everything is happening as it’s meant to.
When I get back home, and the alarm sounds, I punch in the code to turn it off.
I text Mia to tell her that I forgot my laptop and that I’ve just turned around to get it. I send Topher the same, in case he got an alert on his phone that the alarm was triggered. I’m hoping that even if he’s suspicious, he’s too far away to turn around now if he wants to make his flight.
I’ve bought myself maybe three hours before I’m supposed to be anywhere. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.
First, I call up Mike at our scheduled time. I’ve sent him PDFs of the documentation stating I am the rightful occupant of Wildwood. Before we get into the cameras, I ask him once more, for due diligence, when Ezra called to cancel.
I hear him clicking his tongue as he scans his log.
“Yeah, June 11,” he says. “But then he never called back.” Mike hasn’t put it together that key dates don’t line up, that Ezra died before he allegedly called. Was it Julian? I wonder. Or even John?
Next, he walks me through setting up the app.
On my phone screen, ten small squares appear, showing different views of the property and the exterior of the house.
I can see the road, a view of the orchard, a view of the back of the house and the outbuildings behind it.
Apparently, the cameras are wireless and mounted in trees.
Seeing the grid of screens is jarring. My uncle had essentially every angle covered. This isn’t the setup of a man wanting to make sure his packages didn’t get stolen. This is the setup of a man trying to keep someone out. This is the setup of a man who knows someone is trying to get in.
“How does the recording work?” I ask.
“Recording is triggered by movement,” explains Mike.
“Anytime the camera detects movement, it triggers a short recording. Unfortunately, the cameras are really sensitive, so sometimes they can be triggered by a branch moving in the wind. Oh, and animals trigger them all the time. Got a dog or little kids? My nephew used to set them off all the time—”
“No.” I can tell Mike’s the type who wants to chitchat. Normally I feel too guilty to rush people off the phone, but I’m on a clock. “How long are the videos stored?”
“Hmm, with your uncle’s previous account, videos would be stored for two weeks I believe.”
He tells me how to access them, and I thank him quickly and hang up before he can ask me to fill out a customer feedback survey.
My stomach is doing nauseating flips and I realize I’ve been pacing around the house while on the phone, just like Topher does.
Topher. When he had first mentioned outside cameras, they had not given me much comfort.
Ghosts don’t show up on cameras, I’d thought.
But now, I think the cameras might show me something important after all.
I’ve learned that Ezra installed ten cameras throughout the property.
And then there’s the recording of Hugo’s bark.
These are all tangible things. Things happening in the real world.
I still know there is something supernatural happening too.
But I believe now, more than ever, that the Brooks are involved.
Not just in what happened long ago, but in what is happening right now.
Lowering myself onto the rickety love seat in the parlor, I start to click through the video files. Outside, the skies open up and rain begins to fall, in heavy, vibrating sheets. Yes, I think. I pick up my cell and type a message to Mia.
Rain is insane right now. Literally cannot see out the windows. I don’t feel safe driving, so I’ll come down tomorrow instead. XO.
She writes back immediately.
Okay, be safe. Definitely come tomorrow, okay? Love you.
I go back to the videos. There’re a lot.
The first is from the camera overlooking the driveway and front door.
It shows my car pulling up to the house, me getting out, glancing quickly over my shoulder before hurrying inside, overnight bag slung over my shoulder.
It was from just this morning. The next shows me leaving, and then Topher standing by his car, watching me go.
I expect him to get right into his car and leave.
But he doesn’t. Maybe he left something behind?
But he doesn’t go back into the house. He leans against the door, checks his watch, checks his phone.
A moment later, a woman walks into the driveway.
I’d recognize that perfect posture, that fiery hair anywhere.
My stomach clenches. Madeline. They chat a few minutes, Topher gesturing with his hands.
Then, they embrace. The lump in my chest starts to thud.
And then, Madeline’s hands climb to the top of Topher’s head and pulls it close to hers.
They stand like this, bodies almost melded together, for what appears to be an eternity.
Then, they separate, and Topher gets in his car and drives away, and Madeline walks out of the frame, a little skip in her step.
My breath cannot leave my chest. It hangs inside me like a toxin.
I watch the video again. The embrace. Her hands on his head, pulling him close.
Is it a kiss? Did they kiss? I think of the Fall Harvest party and of Madeline dancing, her movements slow and languid, slow like honey.
I think of Topher’s gaze trained on her, the glow of the fire on his face.
I think of them hunting, huddled together at twilight, her mouth close to his cheek.
Take the shot, she would have said, her voice low and breathy.
I think of my dream. Her rocking on top of him, under the moonlight.
Suddenly, it’s hard to see. The betrayal is like someone has pulled a sheet of red in front of my face, smothering me. There’s also an ache in my jaw. I’m clenching my teeth so tightly I’m surprised they don’t shatter. That bitch.
I think of Gina. Gina with the Red Bull and the “You take the blonde—I’ll take the brunette.” My fourth card, the Ten of Swords. The ultimate betrayal.
The rain pounds the windows. I suddenly feel like I’m going to explode. My heart is beating out of my chest. I hurl my phone across the room. It hits the brick of the fireplace and skitters across the floor.
I pant, for a few moments, slowly coming back to myself. I walk timidly to my phone, afraid to see the damage. When I pick it up, the back is completely shattered, and pieces of glass fall like sand. The front screen is a spiderweb and the Apple icon looks like it’s reloading.
Thankfully I still have my laptop. I power it up, still breathing deliberately to slow my heart.
I download the security camera app, and a few minutes later, I’m back in.
I click on more videos. They are mundane.
A few triggered by the swaying of branches, the movement of shadows across the field, a deer wandering through.
Me pacing the meadow, looking for Hugo. Me taking Hugo out. Topher coming and going.
But then I find what I’m looking for. It’s a video taken at night, the images looking ominous in the way night vision always does.
It’s from a camera that shows the back of the house, with a clear shot of the toolshed.
It might even be from that first camera I noticed, glinting up in the trees.
A figure emerges from the toolshed. She walks back toward the woods, but pauses, in front of the conservatory.
About ten yards out, I think. I know I am inside the conservatory at this very moment, staring back at her, in my nightgown.
The video stops. My heart is racing. I click on the next one, taken twenty minutes earlier.
From the lower corner of the screen, the same figure appears. I can see her more closely in this video. She approaches the toolshed and enters. Ghostly pale and hooded. But I no longer think she’s a ghost.
Then she walks off and out of the camera. I realize I’d been expecting to see Madeline on the camera. And though I didn’t get a clear view of the face, I recognize the hooded winter coat the nighttime visitor wears. I know, without a doubt, that it’s Joan.