"No," he pleaded. "Don't do that-don't put me in there." They lifted him up and he stretched his legs and put his feet on the edges of the tub like a dog fighting against a bath.

But it did no good. The attendants overpowered him and forced him into the tub, and while two of them held him down, the third put a heavy wooden lid on the tub, a thick lid with a cutout that allowed only his head to be out of the water.

A moment later the board was strapped down to keep his body completely submerged, and a cold such as he'd never before even dreamed of began to penetrate his body.

He screamed with agony and tried to thrash his way free, but it was no good-the thick leather straps held fast, and all he succeeded in doing was sc.r.a.pe off the skin of his knees against the rough underside of the tub's lid.

"Now calm down," one of the attendants said, his words barely penetrating Shep's agony. "You just think about why you're here, and I'll try not to forget you're in there."

Shep watched as they left the room, then closed and locked the door behind them. Then he filled his lungs with air and bellowed a single word: "Bettina!" "Bettina!"

Her name only echoed back off the stone walls, and as the freezing cold of the water seeped into Shep Dunnigan's body, the truth slowly seeped into his mind.

Bettina Philips couldn't hear him. No one at all-at least no one he knew-could hear him. After all, how could they?

None of them would even be born for another century.

Chapter Twenty-nine.

"She's our daughter, Shep! Yours and mine! You fathered her when you raped me!" The words echoed in Sarah's head. She and Nick were crouched low to the floor next to the door that led from the coal bin to the main part of the bas.e.m.e.nt.

She's our daughter... As Sarah recalled the words, the cacophony of fury raging through the ancient mansion faded into insignificance. As Sarah recalled the words, the cacophony of fury raging through the ancient mansion faded into insignificance.

What was Bettina saying? Why would she say that?

"Sarah?" Nick whispered. "Sarah, we've got to find Bettina."

His voice jerked her back to the present, and she felt him holding her trembling hand. When she tried to stand, her legs turned to jelly and the pain from her hip nearly made her cry out.

Nick steadied her until she regained her footing. When the howling fury of a few moments before faded away, he slowly opened the door that led to the rest of the bas.e.m.e.nt.

As they stepped out of the coal bin, the bas.e.m.e.nt fell utterly silent.

Nothing had been disturbed.

It was as if nothing had happened at all.

But everything had changed.

Still holding Sarah's hand, Nick led her up the steep flight of stairs to the kitchen. It, too, looked exactly as it had before, and the only sound they could hear was the wind whistling outside and the snow hitting the windowpanes.

"Bettina?" Sarah called out. "Are you all right? Are you here?"

There was no answer.

They glanced uneasily at each other, then moved on through the dining room to the hallway, then into the old study. Bettina sat on a worn Victorian couch, her arms wrapped around herself, her dogs next to her. Her face was white and she was trembling.

Sarah approached her. "Are you all right?"

Though her face glistened with tears, Bettina nodded, and Sarah moved closer.

"Are you really my mother?" she asked so softly that her words seemed borne on no more than the faintest wisp of breeze.

Bettina nodded again. "I don't know why I didn't realize it the day I met you. From the first moment I saw you-and saw your talent-I should have known." Her eyes, wide and frightened, met Sarah's. "I couldn't keep you. Can you understand that? I had to do it-I had to give you up. I ... I-" She couldn't finish, and choking back a sob, she buried her face in her hands.

Sarah sat next to Bettina and took one of her hands in her own.

Taking a deep breath, Bettina looked up again. "I'm so sorry, Sarah," she whispered. Then she turned to Nick. "I was-" She faltered, then: "It was your father, Nick," she said. "He found me one day and-" Again she fell silent. "I tried to get away from him," she whispered, almost as if to herself. "I tried so hard ... so hard."

"It wasn't your fault," Nick said, his voice trembling. "n.o.body gets away from my dad-not if he doesn't want you to. He just-he just-" His voice cracked, he fell silent for a moment, then found the strength to go on. "He's gone, isn't he? I mean, he's not coming back."

Bettina shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Do you know why?" Nick asked. "I mean, do you know where he went?"

Bettina's brows knit uncertainly. "I'm not sure he's actually gone," she said, picking her words carefully. "I think he's somewhere close, but I don't think he can ever get back here." Sarah and Nick looked nervously at each other, and Bettina went on. "I don't think either of you needs to be frightened. But I think there are people who do, and I think your father was one of them, Nick. This was the first time he's been here since-well, since that night. And I think something in this house-some spirit, or force, or-" She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what it is. But I think it understands people, and I think it deals with them."

Nick moved to the sofa and sat on the other side of Bettina. Pyewackett instantly leaped into his lap, settled in and began purring, and Bettina slipped an arm around Sarah and drew her close.

"Are you all right?"

Sarah hesitated, then nodded. "It's okay," she said. "I-I love my family. I mean, I loved my mom, and I still love my dad. I really do. Mom was really great, and I don't care what anyone else thinks, my dad's still great. But-" Her voice caught and her eyes glistened with tears. "I don't know-ever since I met you, and came to this house, I've felt-I don't know, different. Like I belonged here." Finally, she looked up at Bettina. "And maybe I do, don't I?"

Bettina put her other arm around Sarah, and drew her closer. "You certainly do," she whispered.

"So what's going to happen?" Nick asked. "I mean, what's going to happen to all of us?"

Bettina sat back and shrugged. "I don't know. But for the first time in a very long time, I'm not frightened. Not even a little bit." She looked first at Nick, then at Sarah. "And I don't think you need to be, either." A gust of wind howled outside and the lights flickered, went out, then came back on so quickly they barely noticed it. "See?" Bettina said, reaching out to give Nick's hand a squeeze. "The place is taking care of us."

As what was now a snowstorm raged outside, they sat quietly in the old house, waiting for whatever was to come, bound together by history, and bound together by fate.

And bound together by something else, something they knew they might never truly understand.

Dan West parked his patrol car in the clinic's parking lot but didn't immediately get out. Instead he sat perfectly still, willing himself to move back into his role as head of the Warwick police department. But it wasn't possible. Tonight wasn't like any other night when he might be called to hear what someone had to say. Tonight it was about his son-his own son-and whatever Tiffany Garvey had to tell him, it better be good. For all he knew, Tiffany could have caused the wreck herself; G.o.d only knew what she might have been doing while Conner was trying to drive carefully along the narrow dirt road while snow fell. And what was Conner supposed to do? Push her away? Maybe Conner was barely old enough to drive, but he was still a man, and a man didn't push a woman away when she wanted to- Her fault! That was it-it was her fault his son was dead, and now she would make up some story to get herself off the hook.

He pulled up the collar on his coat and stepped out of the car, bracing himself against the biting wind that blew stinging shards of sleet at his face and hands. Hunched against the cold, he hurried to the clinic's emergency entrance and through the big sliding door.

Mitch Garvey, flanked by Angie and Zach, were huddled together, praying, in the corner of the waiting room. Well, if his hunch was anywhere near right, they had a lot to pray about!

Mitch looked up when Dan entered, and stood when he saw the fury in his eyes. "Okay, where is she?" Dan demanded.

"Back there," Mitch said, tilting his head toward the curtained off area. "The doctor's working on her."

Dan West turned to the nurse at the reception desk, but she was on her feet even before he spoke. "I'll tell Dr. Nelson you're here, Dan," she said, and slipped behind the striped curtain.

A moment later the nurse drew it aside and waved Dan closer. Tiffany Garvey lay on a gurney, her face bruised and swollen. Ron Nelson, who'd gone all the way through high school with Dan West before heading off to college and then medical school, stood watching the monitors.

"Hey, Ron," Dan said, his eyes fixed on the injured girl. "Can I ask Tiffany a couple of questions?"

"You can ask," Nelson said. "She's been drifting in and out of consciousness, so I can't say how well she'll answer, but go ahead."

Feeling Mitch and Angie Garvey crowding behind him, Dan moved to the head of Tiffany's bed. "Tiffany?" he said. "Tiffany, can you hear me?"

Tiffany's eyelids parted, she squinted up for a second or two, then let her lids fall.

"Is she sedated?" Dan asked the doctor. If she were under the influence of drugs, interviewing her would be pointless-whatever she said would mean next to nothing.

"No way," Nelson a.s.sured him. "Nothing like that with a head injury until you know exactly what's going on."

Dan nodded. "Tiffany? It's Dan West. Conner's father. Can you tell me what happened tonight?" Her eyes fluttered and her brow creased, but she said nothing. "The accident out on the old road?" Dan pressed. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Finally, Tiffany's eyes opened, she blinked, then squinted in the bright light. Her eyes found her father, now standing at the foot of her bed. "Tried to kill us," she said, her voice weak and scratchy. She tried to clear her throat, only half succeeded, then repeated what she'd just said. "They tried to kill us."

"Who?" Dan demanded. What the h.e.l.l was she talking about? According to Harvey Miller, it had been a one-car accident.

"Sarah," Tiffany breathed. Then: "Sarah Crane and Nick Dunnigan."

Dan West's eyes narrowed. What on earth would Sarah Crane and the Dunnigan kid have been doing out there? Everyone knew what kids were up to in that area-h.e.l.l, he and Andrea had gone up there themselves before they got married. But the crippled girl and a kid everyone knew was nuts? Tiffany Garvey had to be lying.

Lying, and protecting herself. "Come on, Tiffany," Dan said, doing his best to keep both his suspicion and his growing fury out of his voice. "How could those two try to kill you?"

Her eyes met his. "Th-They saw us out by the lake," she said haltingly. "Th-Then they ... followed us ... and ... and set the road ... on fire."

Dan's fury grew. Set the road on fire? Was she nuts? Whatever actually happened-and he was surer by the second that he knew exactly what it was-couldn't she have made up a better story than that? But when he looked at her, she looked straight back at him, her eyes never wavering the way kids always did when they lied. It wasn't until they grew up that they learned to lie with a straight face.

"It's true," she insisted. "They set the road on fire. If you don't believe me, ask Conner."

Dan flinched at the sound of his son's name, and Tiffany's eyes widened as she realized what his reaction meant. "No," she whispered. "Oh, G.o.d ... no ..." Her eyes flooded with tears, and even in the grip of his fury, Dan West understood that not only had Tiffany not known Conner was dead, but truly believed he would back up what she said.

"I think that's enough," Ron Nelson said, moving closer, obviously ready to step between his patient and the sheriff.

Dan nodded once, took one last, and penetrating, look at Tiffany, who was now sobbing in her mother's arms, and walked through the curtain and back into the waiting room.

Rage was rising in him like a tidal wave now, and as he remembered the tale not only Conner, but Sarah and Nick, too, had told after King's belly was laid open, he felt his pulse throbbing in his veins. Well, they might have gotten away with killing his dog, but however they'd done it, Sarah Crane and Nick Dunnigan would pay for Conner's death. If it was the last thing he did, he would see to that.

"I knew knew it!" Angie Garvey spat a moment later as she came back into the waiting area, followed by her husband. "I knew that girl was evil! She's a tool of Satan, and it's not just her!" it!" Angie Garvey spat a moment later as she came back into the waiting area, followed by her husband. "I knew that girl was evil! She's a tool of Satan, and it's not just her!"

Dan was already heading to the squad car.

"Stay with your sister," Angie told Zach, grabbing Mitch's arm and starting after Dan West. "Let's go."

She pulled him toward the squad car through the howling storm, yanked open the back door and climbed in.

"They're at Bettina Philips's house, Dan," Angie declared, her voice trembling with fury. "I'm sure of it. You're going to have to do something about that woman. She's destroying all of us! And what did we ever do to her?"

Dan heard only half of what Angie was saying. He, too, was sure he knew exactly where Sarah and Nick were: at Shutters. He put the car in gear and gunned the engine. Snow clouded the winds.h.i.+eld and the wipers could barely keep up with it, but he stepped hard on the accelerator, his fury building with every second that pa.s.sed, and by the time he reached the bottom of the driveway that led up the hill to Shutters, he was no longer functioning as Warwick's sheriff.

Now he was a father seeking vengeance for the death of his son.

He'd kill Nick and Sarah.

He'd kill them tonight.

And not one person would blame him.

He turned into the driveway and gunned the patrol car up the long hill.

At the top, he slammed on the breaks. The headlights revealed the looming bulk of Shutters, its ma.s.sive form seeming to loom even larger in the swirling snow. Getting out of the car, Dan strode toward the house, Angie and Mitch right behind him.

For all of them, the time of reckoning had come.

The heavy oak door swung slowly open even before Dan West could lift the knocker, the gusting wind sending flurries of snow into the foyer and the huge gallery beyond. The lights glowed brighter and then dimmed, and a rumble so low the sheriff barely noticed it emanated from somewhere deep within the old stone building.

His burning anger driving him, Dan strode inside, the storm swirling around him, his eyes stinging from the snow and sleet, his vision blurring, his ears all but deafened by the gale.

"Bettina Philips!" he roared, "I know you're here, and I know those kids are here, too!"

He heard m.u.f.fled shouting behind him but could make out the words no better than he could see into the depths of the house. He took another step forward, and suddenly the howling of a dog-a big dog-drowned out the sound of the wind, and then the stinging mist around him seemed to clear and he saw it.

King! It was King, and a few feet from him he saw Conner, and now Conner was shouting: "Sic 'em, King! Get 'em!" "Sic 'em, King! Get 'em!" For an instant Dan caught a glimpse of Nick Dunnigan and Sarah Crane, but then everything changed and the dog-his For an instant Dan caught a glimpse of Nick Dunnigan and Sarah Crane, but then everything changed and the dog-his own own dog-was charging at him! Its jaws wide, its bared fangs dripping saliva, the dog was racing toward him. Instinctively, West took a step back, and heard the door slam shut behind him. dog-was charging at him! Its jaws wide, its bared fangs dripping saliva, the dog was racing toward him. Instinctively, West took a step back, and heard the door slam shut behind him.

"What is it?" he heard Angie Garvey demanding, her voice shrill. "Why are you-"

But Dan West heard nothing else. All his attention was focused on the animal about to launch itself. But it was no longer the shepherd he'd raised from a pup. Instead it was a Rottweiler, but a Rottweiler far larger than any Dan West had ever seen before.

Instantaneously, Dan's rage dissolved into primal fear. His eyes locked on the dog's, and their eyes bore into each other.

Stay calm, he told himself. It's a dog-it's just a dog It's a dog-it's just a dog.

But he already knew it wasn't just a dog. This was a beast, and it was radiating an unholy fury, its eyes blazing with a burning light, an unearthly howl erupting from its throat. The animal was coiling itself for one final leap, and out of the corner of his eye Dan saw an open door. Not caring where the door might lead, he turned and fled, feeling the dog's breath on his neck and hearing its jaws snap shut where his face had been only a split second before.

Dan dove through the door, whirling as he entered the room, in order to slam the door shut behind him.

His hand touched the k.n.o.b, and then it seemed every muscle in his body contracted as if he'd been shot through with a thousand volts of electricity.

The door remained open, and now the attacking animal was leaping through it.

Dan's arm came up to protect his face, and a second later he felt a searing pain shoot from his hand up into his shoulder, the enormous weight of the animal sending him tumbling back farther into the room.

The door slammed shut, though no one had touched it, at least no one that Dan West could see. His voice rising to a scream, he tried to shake his arm loose from the grip of the dog's jaws, but they held fast, and he began las.h.i.+ng out at the beast with his feet and one free arm.

It was as if he were thras.h.i.+ng at a void, as if he were in the grip of some monstrous creature he could see, and hear, and feel, but couldn't touch at all.