out there, using that sweet dog and poor old Sadie as excuses to give his father all the details he’s left out. Protect the womenfolk from worrying their pretty heads.”
Abra fisted her hands on her hips. “Really?”
“It’s not quite that bad, but not that far off. I lived the last year, too, Abra. Every day of it. Every hour. I want to know what’s happening with my son.”
“Then I’ll tell you.”
She hoped she’d done the right thing, but to Abra it had been the only thing. Direct questions deserved direct answers. Now, as she trusted Lissa’s judgment, both Eli’s parents knew the score.
No more hedging or leaving out unpleasant details.
And what was she doing? she asked herself. Wasn’t she hedging and leaving out unpleasant details? Eli certainly had a right to know about the planted gun, the police search. Shouldn’t she trust him enough for full disclosure?
“There you are.” Eli, windblown, smiling, walked in. “Barbie deserted me for my father, and her new best friend, Sadie. I think she’s a little too easy.”
“Good thing she’s spayed. Any handsome hound might seduce her.”
“I’m really glad you’re here. I told my father the whole shot, all the grim and grisly details. I figured it was time.”
“Good, because I just finished doing the same with your mother.”
“My—”
“Goose and gander, Eli. She asked me directly. I answered. And she’ll worry less knowing than wondering.”
“I just wanted her to feel safe and unburdened here for a couple days.”
“I understand. I thought the same, and that’s why I didn’t— Is that Hester?”
At the shout, Eli was out of the room before Abra finished the question, and moving fast to his grandmother’s bedroom.
Close on his heels, Abra hurried in to see Hester, white as the sheets, sitting up in bed. Her breath came too fast, and the hands she reached out to Eli shook.
Abra darted into the bathroom for water.
“It’s okay. I’m right here. Take it easy, Gran.”
“Here, Hester, drink a little water. Remember your breathing.” Abra’s voice was a balm over a wound. “Hold the glass for her, Eli, while I fix the pillows. I want you to relax back now, breathe.”
Hester kept one hand gripped on Eli’s, sipped slowly before she let Abra ease her back against the pillows.
“I heard a noise.”
“I ran upstairs,” Eli began. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“No.” Her eyes on Eli’s, Hester shook her head. “That night. That night, I heard a noise. I got up because I heard a noise. I remember . . . I remember getting up.”
“What kind of noise?”
“Footsteps. I thought . . . but then I thought I was imagining things. Old houses make noise. I’m used to it. The wind, I thought, but it was still, almost still that night. Just the house creaking like an old woman. I thought I’d make some tea, some of that special herbal tea you got for me, Abra. It’s soothing. I’d make tea and I’d be able to sleep again. I got up to go downstairs.
“It’s in pieces. It’s all in pieces.”
“It’s all right, Gran. You don’t have to remember it all.”
Her grip tightened. “I saw something. I saw someone. Someone in the house. Did I run? Did I fall? I don’t remember.”
“Who did you see?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure.” Her voice cracked on it, fragile glass. “I can’t see his face. I tried to get downstairs, but he’s behind me. I think . . . I think I couldn’t go up, so I ran down. I hear him, I hear him coming after me. Then I can’t remember anything until I woke up in the hospital. You were there, Eli. You were the first one I saw when I woke up. I knew I’d be all right because I saw you.”
“You are all right.” He kissed her hand.
“Someone was in the house. I didn’t dream it.”
“No, you didn’t dream it. I won’t let him come back, Gran. He won’t hurt you again.”
“It’s you who’s in the house now, Eli. You have to protect yourself.”
“I will. I promise you. Bluff House is my responsibility now. Trust me.”
“More than anyone.” She closed her eyes a moment. “Behind the armoire, on the third floor—the big double armoire—there’s a mechanism in the molding that opens a panel.”
“I thought all the passageways were sealed.”
Her breathing leveled, and when she opened her eyes again, they beamed clear. “Yes, most are sealed, but not all. Curious little boys can’t move that heavy armoire, or the shelving in the basement, in the old section—where your grandfather