House of Secrets

Chapter 6

Casper saw a look of disbelief ripple across his father’s face. Then Dr. Walters pulled himself together and put on his business voice. It was good to hear. Casper used to hear it often, when his dad did interviews or advised other surgeons, but for the last month, since “the incident,” Dr. Walters hadn’t had occasion to make those sorts of calls. Now he spoke with purpose.

“Ms. Collins, we’ll take it. Please draw up the papers and we’ll close as soon as possible.”

“Wonderful!” Diana opened a silver case to give Dr. Walters a business card. Mrs. Walters hugged her husband. Nellie asked, “What’s that mean? We got the house? We’re going to live here?”

Jonathan stepped forward. “Why is it so cheap?”

“Jon!” Mrs. Walters snapped.

“It’s the same price as an apartment. Less, even. It doesn’t add up. What are you trying to pull?”

“Your family’s inquisitiveness is welcome,” said Diana. “Jonathan, the owners are trying to liquidate their investment. Like many families they’ve fallen on hard times, and they’re willing to drop the price to get out—especially if it means helping others in a tough spot. You may have noticed that there’s no For Sale sign on the lawn. The owners aren’t looking to sell to any family—they’re looking for the right family. A family in need.”

She smiled. Casper hated being the object of her pity. It would have been one thing if she only pitied him—that he could deal with—but she pitied all of them. Him, his parents, Jon, Liz, and Nell. And that was because of his father. It was so embarrassing. Dr. Walters was trying to do it all backward: reverse-engineer his reputation by getting an impressive house to land an impressive job at an impressive hospital with an administration that was impressed by his renown and willing to overlook “the incident.” But he couldn’t even impress this real estate agent. Casper felt like he’d be better off on his own, or maybe at boarding school like some of his friends. But there was no way his parents could afford boarding school.

Diana led the Walters downstairs, through the great hall, to the front entrance. “I think you’ll find Scott House a wonderful home.”

“We shouldn’t take it,” Jonathan whispered to Alyssa. “You know Dad’s not thinking right these days. There’s something fishy here.”

“You’re just scared.”

“What? Me? No."

“Sure you are. You don’t want to live with that creepy angel on the lawn.”

“Excuse me? There was a bat skeleton in the attic and I wasn’t scared of that.”

“So? Doesn’t prove anything. Nell, wasn’t Jon scared of that statue?”

Nellie nodded.

“I rest my case.”

There was no way Jonathan was going to let Alyssa have the last word. As his family walked out the front door and headed down the pebbled path, he split off and ran to the stone angel, pulling out his phone to take another picture. He’d put his arm around the thing and grin and show the world he wasn’t frightened of a hunk of rock with moss accents.

Except the stone angel wasn’t there.

Jonathan suppressed the urge to call out. Maybe he was just confused. Maybe the statue was on the other side of the house. But no: He remembered the broken hand was the right hand, and that it was a few inches from the exterior wall. Who moved the statue?

Jonathan knelt to investigate the pine needles that carpeted the ground. There should have been a clear imprint where the base of the statue had been, where the needles were flat and damp, maybe with pill bugs scurrying around, but it looked like the statue had simply never been there.

Suddenly a face appeared. Inches from Brendan’s own, its voice hissing like a swarm of wasps leaving hell.

“You don’t belong here.”