The Stroke of Winter, page 18
“Understood,” Nick said. “It could be dangerous for you. And, if those two clowns know about the existence of the paintings—”
Tess held up her hand. “I don’t think they do,” she said. “I found them after they were done getting the door open. The paintings were in the small bathroom in the studio. To my knowledge, Hunter and Grant hadn’t been in there.”
“But you said Hunter was checking around for animals,” Nick said. “Why wouldn’t he have looked in there?”
Now it was Tess’s turn to gape. She went cold, as though she were outside in the snow. Of course he would have.
But Wyatt shook his head. “There’s no way either of them would have done anything like that. I’ve known them for decades.”
Tess didn’t want to suspect Grant or Hunter, but it very well could be they had seen the paintings and had something to do with it all. You can know someone for decades, but when millions of dollars are at stake, people can surprise you.
“Where are they now?” Nick asked. “The paintings.”
“In our wall safe,” Tess said.
“Show me,” Nick said, pushing his chair back from the table.
Together, they walked down the hallway to the drawing room. Tess flipped on the light—nothing was amiss. All was as she had left it hours earlier. Just to make sure, she keyed in the code to the safe, opened the door, and saw the paintings safely inside. She closed the safe door quickly.
“They’re in there,” she said.
“Does anyone else have the code to the safe?” Nick asked. “Anyone who could’ve seen you open it?”
“Other than Wyatt, no,” she said. “And my dad can change the code remotely—actually, I’m surprised he hasn’t done that already. So even I won’t be able to open it.”
“Chief?” a voice came from down the hallway. “Nick?”
“In here,” Nick said, poking his head out of the doorway. Two of his officers came into the room.
“I take it you didn’t find anyone,” Nick said. “Nothing suspicious?”
One of the officers shook his head. “No,” he said. “Nobody broke in, as far as we could tell. And obviously we didn’t find anyone, or any evidence they had been here and left. No footprints in the snow, that kind of thing. But . . . can we have a word?”
Nick held a hand up to Tess and Wyatt, as if to say stay. Then he joined his officers in the hallway.
A moment later, he reentered the room.
“Tess, do you have someplace else to stay tonight?” Nick asked.
She and Wyatt exchanged a glance. Before she could say anything, he said, “Yes. She can stay with me.”
“The dog, too?” Nick asked.
“Of course.”
“What is this all about, Nick?” Tess said. “Why do I need to leave my own house?”
Nick crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Tess, the studio is a crime scene.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Tess just looked at him, her mouth agape. “What?” she said, finding her voice. It sounded thin and far away. “What are you talking about?”
“Tess, the bathroom up there is covered in blood,” Nick said. “Dried blood. We need to get a forensics crew over here and analyze—”
“Blood? That has to be a mistake. Are you sure?” She looked at Wyatt, who seemed equally as stunned.
“Pretty sure,” Nick said. “You had to have noticed it when you were in there. The stains on the walls and the rags and, well, everywhere.”
Tess shook her head. “It was a painter’s studio,” she said, drawing her words out slowly. “My grandfather’s studio. Yes, we saw the stains. But we assumed it was paint.”
Nick raised his eyebrows. “A reasonable assumption. But until forensics does its work, we’re not going to know for sure. We’ve already made the call to the cop shop in Duluth, and a team will be here within a couple of hours. They’re on their way.”
He continued to talk, and Tess continued to answer—
“And I can’t be home while they work?”
“No,” Nick said. “I’m sorry, but you know the drill.”
—but her mind was someplace else.
Blood. The word rang in Tess’s ears and then engulfed her, the realization wrapping around her like a shroud. It wasn’t paint on the rags and the walls as she thought it was. It was blood.
What had happened in that room? Was that the real reason her grandmother had closed it off? Did she know? Her sweet, funny, wickedly intelligent grandmother. What had Serena known? What had she experienced? Had she come upon a murder?
And what was the scratching? The screaming? What were the dogs barking at? A shadow of what had happened in that room? Were they trying to protect a ghost? Prevent a murder? Had opening that room unleashed the pain of what happened there long ago?
“It’s okay, Tess, you can come and stay with me,” Wyatt said, pulling Tess back into the moment. “Storm, too. Not a problem at all.”
Tess looked from Wyatt to Nick and back again. She sighed. Whatever had happened in that room, it was in the hands of the police now. The veil was lifted. There was no hiding it anymore. If her grandmother had shut that room up to bury a secret, it was going to see the light of day whether anybody liked it or not.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll just go and pack a bag. How long am I going to have to be out of here?”
Nick shrugged. “It shouldn’t take more than a day.”
Tess was headed up the back stairs when Nick stopped her. “How long did you say that room was closed off?”
She put her hand on the doorframe. “I don’t really know. I think since before I was born. I don’t ever remember it being open.”
“Okay, then,” Nick said. “We’re dealing with a decades-old crime. If indeed it was a crime. You go on and grab a few things. My officers are still up there.”
Back in her room, Tess wasn’t sure what all to take. Pajamas, for sure. Slippers. A change of clothes. She grabbed some makeup—minimal—and her hairbrush. Was that all? Oh! A toothbrush, too. Nick said it would only be a day.
She made her way back down to the kitchen, where Wyatt was scooping some of Storm’s food into a plastic container.
After Tess grabbed Storm’s harness and leash, she and Wyatt bundled up in their coats, hats, and boots. As they were ready to make their way out of the side door, Tess handed Nick her spare house key.
“One of my grandfather’s paintings is hanging above the fireplace in the living room,” she said. “It is protected by a very sensitive alarm system. Sneeze loud enough in that room, and it will go off.”
Nick nodded. “Okay,” he said.
“Listen, you might as well know that I’m not comfortable opening this house up to strangers without me being here,” Tess said. “I understand you and your people have a job to do. And I don’t want to sound like a jerk. But I just want to make perfectly clear that I am holding you personally responsible for protecting my things. My family heirlooms. And especially that painting.”
Nick put a hand on Tess’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I get it. I will not leave here until the forensics team is done with its work. If it takes all night, so be it. Kate won’t be happy, but this is what she signed on for.”
Tess smiled at the mention of the chief’s wife. “Tell her I’m sorry,” she said, squeezing his arm. “And thank you.”
“Nick, we’ll be at my house if you need either of us for anything,” Wyatt said. “Call us tonight if need be, but if not, we’ll give you a call first thing in the morning to see what’s what.”
With that, Tess and Wyatt wrangled the dogs and made their way out of the door, a whoosh of cold air nipping at their faces.
Jim and Jane were standing at their open door, looking out.
“Everything okay over there?” he asked. “We saw the squad cars and heard the commotion. Did they get the guy?”
Wyatt took Storm’s leash as Tess crossed the driveway to talk to her neighbors. Wharton was a small town. Many people had probably noticed the squads at La Belle Vie. Best to discuss it all openly. Or, at least some of it. Secrets had a way of festering in a town like this. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was why Tess found herself in this situation in the first place.
Still. She didn’t want word to get out . . . did she? She would have to think fast.
“No,” she said. “They didn’t find anyone, nor did they find any evidence someone had broken in.”
“But we saw—”
“I know,” Tess said. “So did we. That’s one of the reasons I’m leaving the house tonight.”
Jim nodded and put an arm around his wife’s shoulder. “That’s sensible, Tess,” he said. “Good for you. Anything we can do?”
“Thanks, but the police are investigating,” she said. “We may have found evidence of an age-old crime after opening up the back room.”
Jim raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“It’s nothing urgent, nothing dangerous, but something we found in the room may indicate . . . well, it’s a mystery right now, I guess you’d say.” Tess stumbled over her words. “That room has been boarded up for decades, and I just wanted to make sure, to get the police’s opinion, before going ahead with the renovation.”
“And they didn’t find evidence of a person being in the house?” Jim pressed. “We all saw it.”
Tess shook her head. She could feel herself shaking inside. “This may sound crazy, but no,” she said. “There was nobody. The police checked the whole house. We don’t know what it was that we saw in the window. And we don’t know what was making that awful noise.”
Jane reached out and put a hand on Tess’s arm. “You probably do,” she said. “I had a feeling you weren’t going to find a person had broken in. These old Wharton houses are filled with spirits. You start doing renovations, and it can disturb them.”
Tess just stared at her. Someone had said it out loud. Finally. Should she acknowledge it? Admit it? Give it a voice? All this time, she had been trying to explain it away, brush it off, or otherwise not think about it. But here was Jane, standing clear eyed in front of her, putting the possibility out there. It floated in the chilly air between them. As much as Tess wanted to deny it, she couldn’t help saying the truth. Her truth.
“What do I do about it, Jane?” she asked, her eyes pleading for help. “I don’t know if it’s a . . . a spirit, as you say. But I do know this is my house. I can’t have all of this happening with guests when and if the place is ever ready for them to come.”
Jane tapped her arm. “I see you’re headed out right now while the police do their work,” she said, her voice calming and smooth. “Let’s talk tomorrow. I can help.”
Tess nodded. “This isn’t the first thing that has happened.” After all this time trying to hold it in, now she longed to let it all out.
“I’m sure it’s not,” Jane said, with a small smile. A knowing glance. “We can deal with this, Tess. Wharton is famous for haunted houses. We’re also famous for getting the ghosts out, if that’s what we want.”
“Okay,” Tess said. “I’ll give you a call or stop by tomorrow, and we can talk about it.”
With that, she, Wyatt, and the dogs set off. They walked in silence for a while.
“Police discovering a crime scene, and a ghostbuster offering her services,” Wyatt said, taking Tess’s arm in his. “That’s some kind of day.”
“Not to mention finding out my uncle and the woman in the painting were lovers. Don’t forget that.”
Wyatt pulled her close. “It’s a lot. You must be exhausted.”
Tess leaned her head onto his arm as they walked. He was right. She was exhausted. Bone tired. Yet her mind wouldn’t shut off. “Did you have any idea it was blood?” she asked, finally.
“No,” Wyatt said. “We both thought it was paint. That’s totally reasonable. But what I’m wondering is . . .”
“Whose blood?” Tess said.
“Exactly.” Wyatt took a deep breath and let it out, the steam visible in the chilly air. “I mean, this seems like delicate territory that we’ve stumbled into. Your grandmother shut up that room. Now, knowing what we know, it seems obvious that this is the reason. Blood was shed there. She found it.”
“Agreed,” Tess said. “We can’t ask her why.”
They crunched along on the snow, the dogs straining at their leashes, until they reached Wyatt’s door.
Before he unlocked it, he turned to Tess, a grin on his face. “This isn’t exactly the way I imagined asking you to spend the night with me.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “So, you didn’t think a disembodied scream piercing the night air and the police finding a crime scene in my house would be romantic? Weird.”
Wyatt unlocked the door, and the dogs ran inside in a flurry, with Wyatt turning on lights as he went.
They stood in the entryway for a moment, just looking at each other.
“What now?” Tess said.
Wyatt shrugged. “Pizza and a movie? The Superior Café delivers.”
Tess exhaled a long breath. “That sounds absolutely perfect,” she said. “Do you mind if I put my things away and change into my sweats first?”
“No! That’s great!” Wyatt said, a little too loudly. “Uh—the guest room is the second door on the right upstairs. While you’re doing that, I’ll get the pizza ordered.”
Tess smiled at him, rather weakly, over her shoulder as she climbed the wide oak stairs. She ran her hand along the ornately carved banister as she went. The hallway was long, like hers, a deep-red Oriental runner spanning the entire length of it. She counted six doors. Squelching the desire to peek into every one, she opened the door to the guest room Wyatt had specified and found it to be just as she imagined it would be—a bed with a grand headboard and footboard, and what looked to be a hand-carved dresser with an enormous cloudy mirror on top. She wondered how old it was.
It seemed fitting the family of the town’s founder should live in one of Wharton’s most beautiful homes. What would John Wharton think of it? What would Elizabeth think of the town that had sprung up where her village had been, and mysteriously disappeared? If it had ever been there at all.
She set her bag on an old, threadbare, shabby-chic wingback chair in the corner of the room and drew out the leggings, soft sweatshirt, and slippers she had packed, laying them on the bed. She noticed the en suite bathroom door was ajar. She flipped on the light to find a claw-foot tub, fluffy towels, and an old-fashioned pedestal sink with hot and cold faucets. Next to it was a glassed-in shower, with fixtures that looked equally as old. She wondered if it was original. But could that be? Did they put showers in houses back when this was built?
Tess set her travel kit on the side of the sink and opened it up, staring into it for a moment. She had intended to do a quick touch-up—splash some water on her face, brush her teeth and hair, apply some moisturizer—but instead, on impulse, she pulled her hair back in a ponytail, peeled off her clothes, and turned on the shower.
She stood under the warm water and drank in the steam, breathing in and out, allowing the day’s stress to wash off her and into the drain. Tears came then, as they often did. Tears of stress and frustration, of fear at the unholy scene they had just witnessed, and even of anger at the knowledge that there was something in her house, something she would have to deal with. On top of everything else. Part of her wished she had never opened that door. But then again, the scratching had started before the door was opened and the room disturbed. It was almost as though her intention to open it had brought the studio’s old trauma—whatever it had been—to life.
Smelling fresh from the body wash, she toweled off and slipped into her comfy things. She ran a brush through her hair and applied moisturizer to her face. And then she walked out of the door and into the hallway, turning back to flip off the bedroom light. Then she thought better of it and left it on.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Back downstairs, Tess found Wyatt at his kitchen table, the dogs nowhere in sight. She noticed the oven was on, and the intoxicating smell of pizza filled the room.
“That delivery was quick,” she said.
“It doesn’t take them long. I kept it warm in the oven.” Wyatt pushed himself up from his chair and crossed the room to the cabinets, where he grabbed two plates. He held them out to Tess, along with a roll of paper towels. “You take these. I’ll take the pizza. Into the den we go. I suspect that’s where the dogs are.”
Tess followed Wyatt down the hallway to his cozy den and saw that the fire was already blazing. And sure enough, there were the three dogs, curled up together like a pack of wolves in the snow. What an impressive sight they were, tails curled around their noses. All three pricked up their ears when Tess and Wyatt walked into the room, but none stirred. Even Storm was as content as Tess had ever seen him.
“I guess all of that barking tired them out,” Tess said, reaching down and giving Storm a little scratch behind the ears.
“It’s not every day they get to do battle with the unseen,” Wyatt said. A big tray with a tiled top emblazoned with a drawing of a chef was positioned on the sectional, and he set the pizza box on it. Then, he poured glasses of wine from a bottle chilling in an ice bucket on the side table.
The pizza, the wine on ice, the fire—he had done all this while Tess was in the shower?
“I’m sorry I took so long up there,” she said, wincing a little. “I couldn’t resist washing some of the day away.”
“Think nothing of it,” he said. “I’m glad you made yourself comfortable.”
Wyatt sank onto the sofa and motioned for her to do the same. And with the pizza and wine on the tray between them, their first evening together at Wyatt’s house began. Somewhere in her heart, Tess knew it wouldn’t be their last.
She took a bite of her first slice and closed her eyes in food rapture. “This is delicious,” she murmured. “Small-town pizza. There is nothing better.”
“The best,” Wyatt said.
