body, it hit her just how alone she was now. Deeply alone. Terrifyingly alone. There was no one she could turn to for help.
Dr. Traymore walked away, and for what seemed like an eternity, Erin stood staring down at Detective Slade, their gazes locked in a silent communication that seemed fostered by the darkness. Then suddenly, almost angrily, he turned and melted into the darkness.
Shaken, Erin turned from the window and began to pace the apartment. She should have felt better, knowing Detective Slade was out there in the darkness, but somehow she didn’t. Somehow his presence disturbed her more than she cared to admit. What was it about him that drew her, in spite of her grief? What was it about him that intrigued her, in spite of her distrust?
What was it about him that made her want what she had always feared the most?
Erin clung to her cross as her pacing accelerated. It was late, nearly dawn, and she knew she should try to get some sleep as the coming days and nights would be trying enough. But in spite of her exhausted state, sleep was the last thing she wanted.
After all these years it was hard enough just being back here in this apartment. More difficult still to think about going into her sister’s bedroom, lying in her sister’s bed, falling asleep perhaps to dream her sister’s dreams.
Dreams that were also Erin’s. Nightmares that had belonged to both her and Megan since they’d been abandoned all those years ago.
Erin crossed the room to examine one of the pictures on the mantel—the one Detective Slade had been holding earlier. She tried to imagine what he’d seen when he’d looked at the faces of the two little girls. Innocence? A lovely thought, but Erin saw beyond the ribbons and lace, the white gloves and straw hats. She saw sad smiles and haunted eyes. Terrified hearts and agonized souls.
Kneeling behind the two little girls was their mother, a beautiful young woman who had had cold blue eyes and an even colder heart. Desiree, she’d called herself. It wasn’t until years later that Erin had learned her mother’s real name was Doris. Doris Ramsey, a sometime actress, who had discarded her name as easily as she’d discarded her children.
If Erin closed her eyes, if she concentrated hard enough, she could still conjure up her mother’s made-up face, could almost smell her cloying perfume as she bent to place cool lips against her daughters’ cheeks. Erin could hear the whispery voice that still raised chill bumps along her spine, even in memory.
“Erin, I’m counting on you to take care of your sister. Don’t open the door to any strangers. And whatever you do, don’t let anyone inside, no matter what they say. It could be one of the monsters, tricking you. Remember that.”
Night after night, after Desiree had gone out, the two little girls had sat all alone in the apartment, watching the shadows on the walls, listening to the wind outside and waiting for the monsters to come and get them.
Erin had been four years older than Megan, and Megan had depended on her to chase away the nightmares, to stare down the unseen terrors, to scream at the demons to go away.
Now it was too late. Too late for Erin to chase away Megan’s monsters. The only thing she could ever do for her sister now was to find the one who had killed her. Somehow that thought comforted Erin, gave her a purpose that made her feel stronger. She gazed around the apartment, the place where the nightmares had started. After all these years, maybe this was the place to finally put them to rest. To face down those monsters once and for all and make them go away.
But in spite of her resolve, when Erin finally fell asleep on the couch, her rest was plagued with distorted visions of dark creatures and laughing demons and Megan calling to her for help. Wearing her black beaded dress, Megan stood outside the French doors in the living room, her face pale and drawn, her eyes rimmed with darkness as her long, inky hair streamed back from her face. She lifted her hand and beckoned to Erin. “I’m so alone and frightened,” she whispered. “So cold. Open the door and let me come in, sissy.”
And then an ominous voice whispered in Erin’s ear, “Whatever you do, don’t invite anyone inside.” Erin whirled and saw Detective Slade appear out of the darkness. His black leather coat trailed behind him as he moved through the mist toward her.
“But she’s my sister!” Erin cried.
Detective Slade smiled, but his eyes were completely hidden by his dark glasses. “Trust me, Erin. You must trust me.”
“I can’t! I can’t trust anyone!”
“Then you’ll never be free of the monsters.” He retreated into the blackness and vanished before her very eyes. She spun back to the window, but Megan had already disappeared, too.
And Erin was all alone.
She woke up crying. Shivering violently, she lay huddled on the couch, watching the patterns on the ceiling shift and change like stones in a giant kaleidoscope. Just images, she told herself. Just nightmares.
We’ve been waiting for you, Erin, the wind moaned outside.
“You won’t get me,” Erin whispered. “You don’t exist.” But her hands were trembling as she clutched the silver cross to her heart.
CHAPTER THREE
Erin was amazed at how quickly the autopsy was performed and the body released to her for burial. She saw no reason to delay. After all, there was no other family to be considered, just her. With Detective Slade’s help and encouragement, the simple memorial services were hastily arranged and conducted late that afternoon.
It was a perfect day for a funeral, overcast and cold, with sharp gusts of wind, which tugged at the hem of Erin’s white wool coat. By the time the small procession arrived at the cemetery, the rain had come. The sky grew ever blacker, more threatening, flapping the black canvas awning covering the grave like the wings of a giant bat.
Erin stood at the edge of the open grave and wished she was anywhere but here. She’d written about funerals. Dozens. Usually it was the heroine’s mother she had buried in her books. But never the sister. Never had Erin imagined what it would be like to bury her own sister.
Cold and shivering, she watched as Father Grady said the final prayer, then tossed a handful of dirt into the grave. He motioned to Erin, and she stepped forward. Unfastening her necklace, she dropped it into the grave.
The silver cross seemed to glow with an ethereal light as it lay atop the ebony coffin. It was the last thing—the only thing—Erin could give to her sister to thwart the darkness that had tormented them both for years. Megan needed it more than Erin did now, but as Erin stood at the edge of the grave, an almost overwhelming sense of foreboding stole over her.
As if drawn by a magnet, she turned her head and glanced over her shoulder. Through the misty veil of rain, she saw a male figure dressed all in black standing at the edge of the cemetery as if hovering on the threshold of a room he was forbidden to enter.
The form seemed to waver in the drizzle while the mist swirled around him with an unnatural movement. Erin couldn’t see a face, but somehow his dark gaze penetrated the layers of fog as easily as a beam of concentrated light. There was something familiar about the apparition, she thought. Something…dangerous.
Something evil.
Erin began to shake. She struggled to look away, but his dark gaze held
