TWENTY-THREE
Gabriel’s furious eyes bore into her. Daphne felt the cold steel against her throat, much as she had the night in the crypt.
But then came a large thud, and Gabriel’s face flew out of her field of vision.
She sat up.
Ben stood over her, the flashlight in his hands.
Gabriel was sprawled out beside him, moaning.
“Ben!” Daphne cried, astounded to see him alive.
Her friend stood looking down at her, his shirt drenched in blood. He swayed suddenly, as if he might fall down. Daphne jumped up and steadied him.
“You’re alive!” she exclaimed, her arms tightly around his torso.
“Christopher found me,” he mumbled. “He told me ... you were in danger... .”
His legs buckled. He had lost a great deal of blood. Daphne was amazed he’d been able to get all the way down there without falling. She helped him sit in Gabriel’s wheelchair.
“Where is Christopher?” Daphne asked.
Ben gestured with his head. “I don’t know... . I wasn’t sure if he followed me or ran somewhere else into the house.”
Daphne looked back at Gabe, who was writhing on the floor, bleeding from his head, his fingers opening and closing as he seemed to claw the air.
“What should we do with him?” Daphne asked.
“Tie him up... .” Ben said, but the words barely made it past his lips.
Daphne knew if Ben’s wound wasn’t staunched properly, he’d die. That he was still alive at all was a miracle, a testament to his strong physique and stamina. But he was going to need a blood transfusion very soon. How they’d manage that, trapped in this blizzard, Daphne had no idea.
But the first order of business had to be securing Gabriel. If he came to, got his wits back, and managed to get back on his feet, he’d try to kill them again. And Ben was not in a condition to fight him off. Daphne would be on her own.
She began overturning boxes and pulling open cabinets in search of some rope. Anything strong enough to bind Gabriel’s wrists and ankles to keep him immobilized. She shook the contents of one cardboard box onto the floor. Fragile glass Christmas ornaments shattered at her feet. Another box held only paper and canceled checks. She lifted a third box—and heard a small cry.
She looked. Behind the box, cowering in the fetal position, was Christopher.
“Christopher!” she called, and immediately bent down to scoop him into her arms.
“He didn’t kill you!” the boy cried, wrapping his arms around Daphne as well. “You’re alive!”
“Yes, I’m alive,” she said. “I told you we’d get through this!”
He clung to her, crying.
Daphne stroked his hair. “You saved my life, Christopher. Do you know that?”
His little round button eyes looked up at her through his tears.
“You sent Ben down here just in the nick of time,” Daphne told him. “You saved my life, Christopher! Now we’re even, baby.”
A gigantic smile suddenly burst forward on his face.
“Now come on,” Daphne said. “We’ve got to tie Gabriel up and then help Ben.” They stood up. “Do you know where there’s any rope?” she asked.
The boy’s eyes scanned the basement. Suddenly he made a beeline across the room toward a workbench.
“How about this?” he asked, holding up a tangled green electrical power cord. “Will this work?”
“It’s going to have to,” Daphne said.
The boy tossed it to her, and Daphne hurried with it back to the place where she’d left Gabriel and Ben.
But, though Ben was still slumped there in the wheelchair, barely conscious, Gabriel was gone.
A trail of blood along the concrete floor stretched on a few feet from where he had been lying, but then it disappeared.
He’d been able to stand up.
And get away.
Daphne felt the fear bubble up from her gut. She picked up the flashlight and swung its light around the basement to see if Gabriel was anywhere within sight. She couldn’t discern him anywhere, but there were plenty of dark shadows where he might be hiding. She knew they had to act fast.
“Christopher, grab that burlap sack,” she ordered the boy.
There was no way to get out of the house, or perhaps even up the basement stairs—not with Ben in such a weakened condition. They’d have to revert to the earlier plan. They’d hide out in the storage room. And this time, they’d have the provisions Ashlee had prepared in case their wait turned out to be a long one.
Daphne set the flashlight in Ben’s lap, grabbed hold of the handles of the wheelchair, and began to push. Christopher followed along, his head moving left and right, on watch for Gabriel’s return.
Daphne suspected their adversary was tending to his wound. Ben had smacked him pretty good with that flashlight. There had been a lot of blood. If Gabriel expected to finish killing them off, he’d have to make sure he had the strength. That meant wrapping his head and possibly resting for a bit. She hoped that interim gave them enough time to make it to the storage room.
Unless, of course, that’s exactly where Gabriel had gone.
He’ll be waiting there for us when we arrive
, Daphne feared.
I might be able to fight him off, but he could get Ben and Christopher
, she thought.
She vowed she would not let that happen.
But it appeared Gabriel had gone elsewhere to nurse his wound. Probably upstairs, where he could get water, Daphne presumed. Just to be sure, however, when they reached the open door of the storage room, she took the flashlight and used it to scope out every darkened corner. She looked behind every box, every shelf, and then made sure that the chest was still wedged against the passageway. When all seemed clear, she breathed a sigh of relief, and motioned to Christopher to wheel Ben inside.
Once the door was secured, Daphne set about rewrapping Ben’s wound. Christopher gave her his shirt, leaving the boy in just his T-shirt. She tied it as tightly as she could around Ben’s shoulder. His eyes flickered open to look at her, and he gave her a small smile.
“Now I want you to drink,” she said, fishing out a plastic bottle of water from the burlap sack and twisting off the cap. Holding it to Ben’s lips, she told him to drink as much as he could. “Then some crackers. We need to keep you from passing out.”
Christopher tossed her a box of animal crackers.
“Here, Ben,” Daphne said, feeding him a couple of lions and bears.
They sat there in silence for some time. The flashlight, propped up on its end, cast a much brighter glow than the kerosene lamp had. Every corner of the small room was illuminated. Daphne started to breathe more easily, convinced they were finally safe. At least for the moment. They had enough food and water to last a couple of days. But after that ... she shuddered, knowing Gabriel could last much longer. He had the whole house, with its full pantry and kitchen.
But the blizzard wouldn’t last forever. It might take a few days for the plows to clear the roads, but eventually people would start coming up the hill. Cook would arrive, expecting to start work. The mailman. And ... Gregory would come. Daphne was certain Gregory would come.
Ben seemed more alert. The food and water had helped. He gripped Daphne’s hand and squeezed it.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Thank you,” she replied, then reached over and took Christopher’s hand as well. “We all took care of each other.”
Ben grimaced. “My brother ... I can’t believe all this was my brother’s doing.”
“He’s out of his mind,” Daphne said.
“So much hatred he’s been carrying around,” Ben said. “I knew he was bitter, resentful ... but never to this extent. I never knew how much he resented even me.”
Daphne gave him a sympathetic look.
“I could try reasoning with him,” Ben said.
“Reasoning with him?” Daphne asked. “Ben, he’s just killed seven people in cold blood—nine, actually, if we count Donovan and Maggie. I think he’s far beyond any form of reasoning.”
Ben just nodded sadly. “I think of my mother,” he said. “She was always fearful about Gabe. I remember she worried his depression might grow into something more malicious. She was right.”
“How did you manage to get out the study?” Daphne asked.
Ben sighed. “When I came back to consciousness, I saw the room was empty, except for Uncle Pete. I managed to stand, and made my way over to him. He told me that the clown had killed almost everyone.”
“Mr. Witherspoon was still
alive
?”
“Yes,” Ben told her. “Though he could barely speak or move. He was slouched way down in his chair. I think he’d had a stroke.”
“Yes, I’m sure he did,” Daphne said.
“It was only when Christopher found me staggering through the house that I learned you were in any danger, and that the clown was actually ...” He couldn’t bring himself to say the name. “My brother.” The pain on Ben’s face was terrible to see.
An odd realization came over Daphne. “But then Gabe
didn’t
kill Pete when he broke into the study,” Daphne said. “Right before Christopher and I escaped through the secret passageway, I saw him smash through the door with the ax. I thought for sure he’d kill everybody who was in the room then.”
Ben shrugged. “I guess maybe he thought that Uncle Pete was already dead. Clearly he thought I was, as he didn’t bother with me, either. I guess he just grabbed ahold of Ashlee and took her with him, and then killed her down here.”
“Ashlee was in on it,” Daphne told him, as Ben’s eyes widened in shock. “She was part of the whole thing.”
She filled Ben in on as much as she had learned. He just kept shaking his head as he listened to the long, sordid tale.
“My brother,” he moaned. “My brother ...”
The fact that Pete had still been alive when Ben left the study made Daphne consider the possibility that she might actually see the master of the house again.
She might actually see her father.
Mr. Witherspoon really is my father.
The news still felt unreal to her. That man ... that hard, stoic man who had nonetheless treated her fairly was actually her father. And now he sat suffering, possibly dying, a floor above her. How Daphne’s heart ached to be able to go to him. All her life she’d wished she’d had a father, and now here she was, trapped in a basement while her father died slowly above her. She wished she had managed somehow to bring him down here to safety as well. Surely if Gabriel went back upstairs now and discovered Pete was still alive, he’d slit the old man’s throat like he had the others.
Daphne started to cry.
Seeming to sense what she was thinking, Christopher put his arm around her.
“My father would want us to be strong,” the little boy said. “That’s what he was always saying. Be strong.” He smiled sadly. “I never listened to him. But maybe I will start now.”
Daphne hugged him back.
That’s when they heard the scraping sound.
“What’s that?” Daphne whispered.
They were all silent, listening for the sound to return.
Scraping. From inside the wall. From ... Daphne moved closer to make sure ... from inside the secret passageway.
“He’s coming,” she whispered. “He’s trying to get in here using the passageway.”
“God, no,” Ben moaned. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to run. You two, go—you two, get out of here while you can!”
“No,” Daphne told him. “We planned for this. We wedged that chest over the entrance to the passageway. It’s in there pretty solid. There’s no way he can budge it.”
“Don’t underestimate the strength of a madman,” Ben said.
They listened again. Footsteps now. Close. He was near the entrance to the storage room.
They all drew in a deep breath.
They heard the panel slide open behind the chest.
They were still as stone statues.
They heard the huffing and puffing made by their pursuer as he tried to dislodge the chest. He was pushing, shoving. The chest trembled ever so slightly, but it did not move.
“You’ve got to be ready,” Ben whispered to Daphne. “If that chest moves, you and Christopher unlock this door and make a run for it.”
“It’s not going to move,” Daphne said, praying she was right.
Would she even have time to get the door unlocked and open if Gabriel somehow burst in here? They were sitting ducks in way, just waiting for him, in this enclosed space. If somehow he managed to push that chest away from the opening and came flying in here, razor swinging, they’d likely all be dead in a matter of seconds.
The chest shook, more noticeably this time, as the man behind it threw his shoulder against it, desperate now to break in.