All the Little Lights
Page 87

“What else can you tell me?” he asked.
“That’s it. That’s all I know,” I said, pulling the blanket tighter around me.
“You’re sure?”
I nodded.
Thompson stared at the house. “It’s lucky Elliott was with you all day. This matches Presley’s disappearance.”
“What? How?”
“The child’s drawings. Same thing all over Presley’s bedroom walls. We kept that quiet while we did our investigating. We told Presley’s parents to keep it confidential, too.”
“In blood?”
Thompson nodded.
I covered my mouth and closed my eyes.
Thompson left me to return to the Masons’ home. I could hear Mr. Mason trying to calm Lauren down. Before I could stop myself, I dropped the blanket and ran. Down the Masons’ street, for blocks and then miles, until I felt like my fingers were frozen and my lungs would burst. I didn’t stop until I was standing at the end of the dark road in front of the Juniper. The lights were still broken, the stars snuffed out by cloud cover.
The gate creaked as I pushed through, my feet stumbling over the uneven sidewalk. I climbed the steps of the porch and stopped at the front door. “Go in, Catherine. You’re a warrior, not a princess,” I said aloud.
I reached for the knob and pushed, startled when it popped open. The Juniper was dark, creaking and breathing like it always had.
“Mama?” I called, leaning against the door until it closed behind me. I struggled to catch my breath, my hands screaming in pain as the blood returned to my fingertips. It wasn’t much warmer in the Juniper than outside, but at least I was protected from the freezing wind.
Many voices filtered up from the basement, arguing, crying, whining, and yelling, and then they stopped, making way for the Juniper to stretch and breathe. Beyond the groaning and howling of the walls was a muffled whimper. I walked down the hall, past the dining room and kitchen, to reach the basement door, and then held my ear against the cold wood. Another whimper, another deep voice scolding whoever was downstairs.
Duke.
I opened the door, trying my best to be quiet, but Duke wasn’t paying attention, too intent on venting his anger. I inched down the steps, Duke’s voice getting louder the deeper I descended.
“I told you,” Duke growled. “I warned you, didn’t I?”
“Daddy, stop! You’re scaring her!” Poppy cried.
I peeked around the corner, seeing Duke standing in front of Mrs. Mason. She was sitting in a chair in her bare feet and cotton nightgown, her hands tied behind her back, gagged by a dirty sock, secured by a piece of cloth that was pulled across her mouth and tied at the nape of her neck. Her right eye was purple and swollen, blood dried and matted to a spot just above her right temple. Her torso was soaked in blood. Her face was dirty, tears creating tracks down her face.
Mrs. Mason spotted me, her left eye widened, and she shook her head.
Duke started to turn. Mrs. Mason made a ruckus, pushing off with her feet and banging the chair against the floor as she screamed through the cloth she was gagged with.
“Shut up!” Duke spat. “You just couldn’t stand it, could you? You had to stick your nose in where it didn’t belong. We told you to stay away from her, didn’t we?”
Mrs. Mason’s face crumpled, and she began to cry again. “Please,” she managed to say around the gag.
A door upstairs slammed, and Elliott’s voice bellowed through the house.
“Catherine!” he screamed. “Catherine, can you hear me?”
Mrs. Mason froze, the whites of her eyes showing her surprise. She began bouncing up and down, banging the legs of the chair against the concrete floor and yelling what sounded like help and I’m down here.
Duke’s eyes danced toward the ceiling, and then he looked at Mrs. Mason, raising his bat.
I flattened myself against the wall, closed my eyes, and then stepped out in full view of Duke.
“Enough,” I said, hoping my voice sounded braver than I felt.
“C-Catherine?” Duke said, surprised. The underarms of his short-sleeved button-down were soaked with sweat, the rest of his shirt smeared and spattered in blood. Mrs. Mason had fought, evident by the scratches on his cheek. He was holding my dad’s wooden baseball bat in one hand, a roll of twine in the other. “What are you doing here?”
“The detective said he saw a child’s drawing in Becca’s blood. I knew it was Poppy’s,” I said.
Poppy whimpered. “It wasn’t my fault. I want to go to bed.”
“You can,” I said, reaching out for her.
Duke showed his teeth and growled. “You’re not supposed to be here! Get out and take that boy with you!”
My eyes drifted to Mrs. Mason, dirty, cold, and afraid. “And her.”
“No!” He pointed at her. “She’s ruined everything! Do you have any idea what your mother’s been through?”
“Where is she? I want to talk to her.”
Duke shook his head. “No! No, you can’t.”
“I know she misses me. Is she here?”
“No!” he seethed.
Elliott’s footsteps barreled down the steps, and I held up one finger to Duke. “Don’t talk.”
Duke opened his mouth, but I pointed at him. “You say one word, and I will never come back!”
Elliott froze at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes dancing between Mrs. Mason, Duke, and me. “Holy . . . are you okay?” he asked, taking a step.
Duke raised his weapon and took a step toward Elliott. I held up both hands to stop him, then looked to Elliott, making sure not to turn my back on the man with the bat.
“You need to go. Take Mrs. Mason with you. She needs an ambulance. Elliott?”
“Yeah?” he said, unable to look away from Duke.
“Get your cell phone. Call nine-one-one.”
Elliott pulled his phone from his back pocket and dialed the numbers.
I walked around Mrs. Mason’s chair slowly, sure to maintain plenty of distance between Duke and me. Sweat dripped from his hairline as his eyes danced between Elliott speaking quietly to the emergency operator and me circling Mrs. Mason’s chair. He was breathing hard, tired, and slow. By the purple half moons under his eyes, I decided he hadn’t slept, and it would be easy to confuse him, outmaneuver him if necessary.
Keeping my eyes on Duke, I leaned down to untie Mrs. Mason’s bloody wrists and then reached for her ankles, pulling on the twine. Her body was trembling from the cold. Even if she wasn’t already suffering from hypothermia, the blood loss was enough to be dangerous.
Duke took a quick step forward, but so did Elliott, drawing his attention.
“Don’t,” I warned Duke. “She’s freezing, and she’s lost a lot of blood. I’m taking her to a doctor. Did you call?” I asked Elliott.
He nodded, pointing with his free hand to the phone at his ear. “The mansion on Juniper. I’m not sure of the address. The Calhouns’. Please hurry.” Elliott hung up without warning, shoving the phone back into his pocket.
After struggling with the knot, I finally freed Mrs. Mason’s ankles. She fell to the floor and crawled to Elliott. He helped her to her feet.
“Catherine, come on,” she said, shivering and struggling to see. She reached out for me, her entire body shuddering with fear. “Come . . . c’mon.”
“Elliott, she needs a doctor,” I said. “Take her.”