to Patches, just as Patches had been too dumb to refuse the poisoned oats. Raising her chin defiantly, and studiously ignoring Beth, she continued on to Prospect Street, then turned right past the mill toward the hospital that lay a few blocks further on.
Ignoring the sign announcing that visiting hours were from six until eight P.M., Tracy made her way to her grandmother’s room, and let herself inside. Lying in the bed, her eyes closed and her breathing regular, Abigail Sturgess slept peacefully.
Tracy gazed at the frail form in the bed for a few moments, then reached out and shook her grandmother.
“Grandmother? Wake up.”
Abigail stirred slightly, and tried to roll over.
Tracy shook her again. “Grandmother! It’s Tracy. Wake up!”
Abigail started slightly, coughed, and opened her eyes. Squinting against the light, she peered up into her granddaughter’s face. “Tracy?” she asked weakly. “What are you doing here?”
Tracy wreathed her face in a smile. “I came to visit you, Grandmother. I thought you must be lonely.”
Abigail struggled to sit up. “Well, aren’t you sweet,” she said, as Tracy stuffed an extra pillow behind her. She blinked, then reached unsteadily for a glass of water on the table next to the bed. “Did your father come with you?”
Tracy shook her head. “I walked. I was afraid if I told anyone I was coming, Carolyn would have stopped me.”
“She probably would have,” Abigail agreed. “She’s a hard one, that woman.” Then she smiled. “Not like your mother at all.”
Sensing an opening, Tracy smiled again. “Tell me about her,” she said. “Tell me all about Mommy!”
Abigail sighed contentedly, and her eyes took on a faraway look as she let her mind drift back into the past. “She was a wonderful woman, your mother. Pretty as a picture, and just like you.” She reached out to Tracy, squeezing her hand affectionately. “And she knew her place in the world. You wouldn’t find her working in the kitchen, except once a week to give Cook the menus. But I suppose those days are gone forever …” Her voice trailed off, and she fell silent.
Tracy gazed at the shriveled form of her grandmother, wondering if she’d gone back to sleep again. “Well, if the mill starts making money again—” she began, and Abigail’s eyes snapped open.
“It won’t!” she said, her voice suddenly strong. “We don’t need the money, and I told your father to close it. I intend to see that he does!”
Tracy grinned to herself. “But why?” she asked. “Why should he close it?”
Abigail’s head swung slowly around, and her eyes fixed on Tracy’s, but Tracy had the eerie feeling that her grandmother wasn’t really seeing her.
“Because she’s evil,” the old woman whispered, almost to herself. “She killed my son, and she killed Jeff Bailey, and she tried to kill me!”
Tracy’s heart beat faster. It was exactly what she’d wanted to hear, even though her grandmother was confused. Beth couldn’t possibly have killed Uncle Conrad—she hadn’t even been born yet. But it didn’t matter. So what if her grandmother had part of it wrong? She did her best not to show her excitement. “She tried to kill you?” she whispered. “Who?” Then, when her grandmother made no reply, she decided to gamble. “You saw her, didn’t you?” she asked. “You saw her down there, and she did something to you, didn’t she?”
Abigail’s eyes widened, and she felt her heart constrict as her mind suddenly opened and the memories of the previous night flooded back to her. Again her hand reached out to Tracy, but now that hand was a claw, and when she grasped the girl’s wrist, Tracy felt a stab of pain.
“The children,” Abigail gasped. “Yes … I saw the children.”
Abigail was nodding now, and her jaw began working as she struggled to speak again. “Children,” she repeated. “I saw them. I saw them just as if they were really there.…”
Tracy’s heart was thumping now. “You did, Grandmother,” she said. “You saw her, and she tried to kill you.”
“Dead,” Abigail whispered. “She’s dead, and she wants to kill us.” Her grip on Tracy’s arm tightened, and the girl winced with pain. “She wants to kill us all, Tracy. She hates us, because of what we did to her. She hates us, and she’ll kill us if we let her.”
Tracy tried to pull away, but Abigail seemed to find new strength as her words rambled on. “Stay away, Tracy. Stay away from there. Promise me, Tracy. Promise me