What was he talking about? What did he know that I didn’t?The beekeeper’s bonnet—yes, all right, I could understand that, if there were botflies down here, that might help—but what Devil was he referring to?
I shouted the questions at him and more, pounding my fists against the door in the dark, alternately threatening and pleading, begging for him not to leave me alone, but all I heard was silence. Phelps was gone, and I was alone in the dark with the shadows of my delirium.
CHAPTER 16
I would like to tell you that I was brave and practical and resourceful, that I immediately took stock of my situation and began plotting my escape. But in truth, I slid down the wall to the floor, put my head against my knees, and began to sob.
It was all simply too much. I had been anxious and fearful and then I had been horribly ill and then I had been attacked and now I was imprisoned. Even that was far too much to bear, without even considering what lay in wait at the bottom of the steps.
You can’t keep the Devil locked up.
I shoved the thought aside.Not important right now. What’s important is getting out.
The door wasn’t going to open. I wasn’t going to be able to break it down without tools of some sort. My best hope would be if someone came looking for me. Someone other than Phelps, obviously.
I forced myself to think logically. Neither of the Kents were likely to wander by the shed on their own. Sally certainly wouldn’t. Once they knew I was missing, they would definitely look for me though. But when would that be?
Probably not until I don’t come down to dinner. Mrs. Kent will check to make sure I haven’t fallen ill again. By that time, Phelps will probably be long gone.
Had Jackson seen us talking? It was possible. He’d been busy, and we’d been on the other side of the grounds. Hecouldhavelooked up at the right moment and seen Phelps and I walking away together, but I couldn’t count on it.
All Phelps had to do was claim that he hadn’t seen me.Hell, if I were Phelps, I’d pretend to be worried and join in the search, and take the woods right here so that nobody else could hear me yelling.
Mrs. Kent would suspect Phelps of having something to do with it, but what could she do? This was still North Carolina and she’d be a Black woman accusing a white man of something, without any proof to offer the authorities.
Panic tried to rise in my throat. I studied it as dispassionately as I might a specimen I was preparing to paint. Phelps had said he was waiting for Halder. Even if no one found me, I had only to wait until the doctor’s return.
Granted, he had already spent a week in Raleigh, but he must be due to return soon. He had only the one specimen, and Jackson hadn’t caught any others. I just had to wait until this unexpected research angle had run its course.
The panic tried to rise again, more strongly. That could takeweeks. Father had once become so obsessed with carnivorous sundews from the Sandhills that he spent three months there, sending occasional letters to reassure me that he was fine, and only the onset of winter had actually driven him home.
I tried to imagine spending months in the shed and felt a sob wrack my body like a blow.
No, no. Phelps is not going to keep you here for months. He said he’d wire Halder to tell him there’s a problem.
When Halder gets back, surely he’ll see this is ridiculous.
Surely.
I found that I wasn’t as sure of that as I had been a few hours ago.
I stretched out my hand and touched the heavy drape in front of me. Somewhere, down in the dark, was something that Halder wanted to keep hidden. Something that Phelps was helping him keep hidden.
Something that he thought he’d hang for.
You know what it has to be. The body must have been real.Not a hallucination brought on by malaria, but a real thing that I had seen and then tried to convince myself I hadn’t.
But…
No “but”s! Think!
The memory was blurry, as if I’d poured water over a painting and left only the ghosts of colors behind, but it hadn’t vanished. Dreams fade, but this hadn’t. On some level, I must have known that, or I wouldn’t have worked so hard to convince myself that I hadn’t.
Why had I been so desperate to believe that it wasn’t true?
Because it was horrible. Because it was frightening.
My lips twisted. No. That hadn’t been the reason, not really.
