22: Enigma at Collinwood

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id109.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: Stolen Memories"><U><B>1:  Stolen Memories</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id110.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="2: A Complex Puzzle"><U><B>2:  A Complex Puzzle</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id111.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Peeling the Onion"><U><B>3:  Peeling the Onion</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id112.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="4: Secrets Revealed"><U><B>4:  Secrets Revealed</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id113.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Going Home Again"><U><B>5:  Going Home Again</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id114.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="6: ThingintheBox"><U><B>6:  Thing-in-the-Box</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id116.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: Challenging the Leviathan"><U><B>7:  Challenging the Leviathan</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id117.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="8: Circling the Wagons"><U><B>8:  Circling the Wagons</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id118.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="9: Jebs Curse"><U><B>9:  Jeb's Curse</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id119.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="10: Spell of Jealousy"><U><B>10:  Spell of Jealousy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id120.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="11: Carrying the Weight"><U><B>11:  Carrying the Weight</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id121.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="12: A Fiendish New Year"><U><B>12:  A Fiendish New Year</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id122.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="13: Barnabas Crisis"><U><B>13:  Barnabas' Crisis</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id123.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="14: Barnabas in Parallel Time"><U><B>14:  Barnabas in Parallel Time</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id124.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="15: Clues to Disaster"><U><B>15:  Clues to Disaster</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id125.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="16: Demons Possession"><U><B>16:  Demon's Possession</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id126.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="17: Breach of Trust"><U><B>17:  Breach of Trust</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id127.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="18: Labyrinth of Emotions"><U><B>18:  Labyrinth of Emotions</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id128.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="19: The Amanda Dilemma"><U><B>19:  The Amanda Dilemma</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id129.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="20: Ziganas Cure"><U><B>20:  Zigana's Cure</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id130.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="21: The Approaching Storm"><U><B>21:  The Approaching Storm</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>22:  Enigma at Collinwood</B><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id132.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="23: Reunion in Hell"><U><B>23:  Reunion in Hell</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id133.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="24: Scattered Through Time"><U><B>24:  Scattered Through Time</B></U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>22:  Enigma at Collinwood</B><B>  </B></div> <div> <A HREF="id107.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Alternate Destiny"><U><B>Alternate Destiny</B></U></A></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> They stopped near Boston for one of Sabrina's frequent rest stops.  Quentin had no idea that pregnant women had to go so much, and he was beside himself with impatience and the strain of trying not to show it.  If they drove through without another stop (which he doubted), they'd be in Collinsport in about four hours.  An arrival in time for brunch now was looking more like lunchtime.  It was a decent hour to call, so Quentin took the opportunity to call Collinwood again and asked for Barnabas.</div> <div> "Oh, heavens!" Mrs. Johnson exclaimed.  "Didn't I give you Mr. Barnabas' phone number?"</div> <div> Phone number?  "Barnabas has a phone?" Quentin couldn't believe what he'd just heard.  He began to remember something about major renovations at the Old House-something Roger had said during the summer.  "Does he have electricity too?"</div> <div> "Why, yes," Mrs. Johnson answered.  "And isn't it about time?  Here, do you have a pencil?"</div> <div> "Yes, go ahead."  Still stunned, Quentin copied the number onto the palm of his hand with a pen.  He looked at his hand thoughtfully.  What made him do it after all these years?  Julia-it had to be.  Julia wouldn't live in that drafty old house without a phone and electricity.  Quickly he dialed the other number.  It rang and rang, and Quentin hopped from foot to foot. <I>Come on, come on!</I></div> <div> "Hello?"  The familiar deep voice sounded hesitant and faint over the line.</div> <div> "Barnabas?"  Quentin was positive it was his cousin, but it sounded so totally unlike him.</div> <div> Almost at once, though, the voice changed.  It became stronger and warmer.  "Quentin!  Where are you?"</div> <div> "Boston.  We're on our way-we'll be there for lunch."  The words began tumbling out.  "Beth-where is she?  Is she there, Barnabas?  Where did you find her?  Is she all right?"</div> <div> "Quentin, Quentin!"  The voice finally penetrated and he stopped talking.  "I'm sorry, Beth is not here right now.  She and Julia went for a walk on the beach."  Quentin kicked the phone booth in frustration.  "What was that?"</div> <div> "Nothing!" Quentin grit his teeth, hopping, and grabbing for his injured foot.  Katie had emerged from the ladies' room first and immediately came to the phone booth, looking visibly disappointed when Quentin shook his head, no.</div> <div> "We'll explain everything to you when you get here, Quentin.  Let me assure you, though, that Beth is fine and is most anxious to see you again," Barnabas said kindly.  </div> <div> Quentin's throat ached.  "Barnabas, thank you."  His eyes began to fill with tears.  He was happy, he was disappointed and frustrated, and he was frightened.  </div> <div> "It's all right," Barnabas soothed.  "Quentin, the last time we saw each other, I-I  behaved cruelly toward you.  That has been bothering me all these months."</div> <div>      "Don't worry about it," Quentin cut in, his voice thick.  He couldn't take this, too.</div> <div> "But I do," Barnabas objected.</div> <div> "Barnabas, listen, this is important," Quentin interrupted again.  "Petofi is back.  He may be in Collinsport already."</div> <div> "Quentin, we've been through this," Barnabas said patiently.  "Petofi is dead."</div> <div> "No!" Quentin shouted, immediately alarmed.  "Don't you remember?  I told you, Barnabas-I told you he didn't die in the fire!"</div> <div> "I know that," Barnabas' voice continued to be soothing, as if he was talking to a child.  "He died in Romania.  I know that for a fact."</div> <div> "No! He didn't!  He's just been to Hunter, Barnabas-he's taken CaraLinda Romano away!"</div> <div> "Quentin, I don't understand what you're talking about.  Meet us all at Collinwood when you arrive.  We'll be waiting for you there, and you can tell us about it then."</div> <div> "Barnabas-"</div> <div> "I'll see you soon, Quentin." At that point, the operator told Quentin to deposit more coins to continue the conversation.  "That's not necessary.  We'll see you very soon, Quentin."  And Barnabas hung up.  Quentin stared at the receiver in disbelief.  He tried to call back immediately, ignoring Katie's questions.  This time, there was no answer.</div> <div> By now Sabrina and Amy had come out of the ladies' room.  "Something's wrong," Amy said immediately.  "He's there."</div> <div> "I don't know," Quentin fretted.  He looked at Sabrina.  "Can you make it to Collinsport without stopping again?  Please?"</div> <div> Sabrina looked pale and Chris put his arm around her.  "I'll try," she whispered apologetically.</div> <div> Quentin looked at Chris.  "We've really got to move, Chris."</div> <div> "Let's go," Chris said, and they all got back into the van.  "What's up, Quentin?"</div> <div> Quentin shook his head.  "It's Barnabas.  Something's wrong-we've just got to get there, man."</div> <div> Chris sped out of the parking lot.</div> <bR> <div> By noon, the van was pulling into the driveway at Collinwood.  The windows were all rolled down in spite of the cool autumn air.  So many people in the van created a lot of heat.  "It's so still," Amy noticed, setting Quentin's nerves jangling.  She added:  "The door is open!"  Chris stopped and they all gawked at the main door of Collinwood.</div> <div>      "Maybe they've seen us!"  Sabrina suggested tentatively.</div> <div>      "No, it's BEEN open for a while," Amy disagreed.</div> <div>      The front door WAS standing open. "That's weird."  Quentin popped the door open on his side of the van and hopped out.</div> <div>      "That door's been open the whole time we've been driving up here," Amy said now.  "I saw it as soon as we turned up the driveway.  The door was already opened up.  I didn't see anybody standing in it.  I kept waiting to see if someone would come.  I kept waiting for Mrs. Johnson--" She broke off, clearly distressed.</div> <div>      Chris got out from behind the steering wheel.  "You think something happened in there, Quentin?  This is, like, really spooky."</div> <div>      Quentin shuddered.  "Good God, I hope not!  We'd better look, though."</div> <div>      "Chris, be careful!"  Sabrina cried.</div> <div>      "Yeah, don't worry.  You stay here with Katie and Amy."</div> <div>      Katie, however, was already climbing out of the van.     "No," she protested.  "I want to go with you."  She reached out for and clutched Quentin's hand.  "It's so big," she whispered in awe.  "I've seen pictures before, but I never realized…"</div> <div>      "Katie, just get ready to run fast if you have to," Quentin warned her, very seriously.  Everything about the house screamed that something was wrong, and he was frightened.  "I'm not kidding, okay?  Some really strange things have happened in this house."  He led the way into the house.</div> <div>      There was an eerie stillness within the house too.  Chris and Quentin looked around uneasily, checking out the drawing room.  Katie seemed too in awe of everything to be frightened.  Wide-eyed, she looked around at the heavy pieces of furniture, the full-length antique grandfather clock-which was making the only sound in the place-and the portrait of the "original" Barnabas Collins.</div> <div>      "Hello!"  Quentin called out, moving through the foyer and down the hall to the study. There was a fire blazing in there, but it was empty.  "Elizabeth! Roger!  Carolyn!" he called, trying to control his feelings of panic.</div> <div>      Chris examined the desk.  There were papers scattered there, and an open date book.  It was leather bound. Chris picked it up and looked at it.  It was embossed on the spine of the book: RC.  Quentin spun on his heel and strode out of the room, back into the foyer.</div> <div>      Chris and Katie followed him through a doorway and down the hall. They entered the formal dining room. The table was set for eight places--and it looked like something or someone had interrupted breakfast.  Six of the chairs had been pulled far out; in fact, one was over on its side. Breakfast was still sitting on the table ready to be served: scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes. Eight juice glasses were filled and had been left untouched.  The half-melted butter was losing its log shape.   <I>Oh god, what happened here?</I>    Quentin thought.</div> <div>      He went into the kitchen.  There, too, a meal had been interrupted.  There was a single setting on the round table.  A closed book sat near the plate.  Quentin picked up the book and looked at the title.  He smiled sardonically.  "Why, Mrs. Johnson, I'm SHOCKED," he said mockingly.  His eyes betrayed how he really felt, though.  They were filled with worry and scanned the room, searching.</div> <div>      "This is really giving me bad vibes," said Chris.  "Whatever happened, it was really fast."</div> <div>      "Yes," Quentin agreed, "but what was it?  And where are they? Let's go look upstairs."</div> <div>      There seemed to be hundreds of rooms up there, but fortunately, Quentin knew who lived where.  All the rooms we were empty.  Quentin went to Julia's old room and found a doctor's bag on the bed, and several medical textbooks opened on the desk. Quentin opened several of the drawers in the desk, finding nothing.  He picked up a few notebooks, flipping through them.  He returned most of them to the desk; one he kept.</div> <div>      "What's that, Quentin?"  Katie asked.</div> <div>      "My friend Julia kept her notes in books like this.  This one's the last one she started," Quentin said absently.  Carrying the notebook, he went on to the next room.  It was very elegant and very feminine, done in soft shades of blue.  A lady's room.  "My cousin, Elizabeth," Quentin explained.  The next room obviously belonged to a man.  "Roger."</div> <div>      "Roger Collins," Chris repeated.  " Quentin, is this your cousin's?"  He held out the leather bound date book he still carried.</div> <div>      Quentin looked at it.  "Yes, it's Roger's."  He took the book from Chris and opened the book, flipping through the pages.  "They were having guests this morning-besides us."  Quentin pointed to the date.  Written there was "9: TES, EF."</div> <div>      "You know those names?" Chris asked.</div> <div>      "Well, TES--I think that's Eliot Stokes.  He's a family friend.  I don't know any EF."</div> <div>      "So something happened right around 9 this morning," Chris said.  "Like less than 3 hours ago."  The unspoken thought lay between them all:  <I>Petofi</I>.</div> <div>      Quentin didn't answer.  "Maybe they went to the Old House."</div> <div>      "What's the Old House?" Katie asked, her face pale and frightened.</div> <div>      "Where my cousin Barnabas lives," Quentin answered.  "I was just talking to him-in Boston."  He looked at Chris.  "You have to stay here-with Sabrina and Amy and Katie."</div> <div>      Katie clutched his arm.  "No!  I want to go with you!" she exclaimed.  As Quentin opened his mouth to protest, she went on:  "This is Mama we're talking about.  I have to know!"  He nodded reluctantly.</div> <div>      Turning to Chris, he said, "Stay with Sabrina and Amy until we get back.  Don't come looking for us.  If we don't come back in, oh, say, a half hour-go into town and get the sheriff."</div> <div>      "I don't think you're going to find anyone, Quentin," Chris worried.</div> <div>      Quentin hesitated. He suspected that Chris was right and he was trying very hard not to panic.  "We'll see," he said finally.  "Come on, Katie."</div> <div> The walk through the woods to the Old House would have been beautiful were it not for the sinister air about the place.  "Do you think Mama might be at that house, Dad?" Katie asked, finally breaking the silence as they arrived at the Old House.  </div> <div> "I hope," Quentin answered.  The Old House had an empty feel to it, though, he realized, his heart sinking.  "The family was driven from Collinwood before, and they came here."</div> <div> "Really?" Katie asked.  "Why?"</div> <div> Quentin didn't want to answer that.  He'd climbed the steps to the portico and was banging on the door.  "Barnabas!" he called.  "Julia!"  And then:  "Beth!"  He turned the knob and pushed the door open.  It was cold in here.  "I thought they put heat in," he muttered.</div> <div> "This place wasn't heated?" Katie asked incredulously.</div> <div> "No electricity, either," Quentin said.  He found the new switchplate just inside the door.  He flipped the switch.  "Still no lights."  Was it just that they weren't hooked up yet-or had something else happened?</div> <div> They went to the drawing room and Katie looked up at Barnabas' portrait over the fireplace.  "Who is that?" she asked.</div> <div> "Barnabas," Quentin answered in a distracted way.  No one was here.  Why?</div> <div> "It's the same man."</div> <div> Quentin realized what she'd said.  She was aware of a lot of strange things, but Quentin didn't think she could handle the idea of an almost two-hundred-year-old vampire.  "No, honey, he's a direct descendant."  He turned and went toward the stairs.  "Barnabas!  Julia!" He called again, loudly.  <I>They would have answered if they were here</I>, he thought despairingly.</div> <div> "No one is here," Katie said flatly.</div> <div> "Let's look anyway," he suggested without much hope.  They went up the stairs.  He bypassed Josette's room and went to Barnabas' room.  "They <I>were</I> here," he said.  The bed was rumpled.  Julia's cosmetics were spilled across one dresser.  Barnabas' bathrobe was laid neatly on the bed.  "Damn."</div> <div> "Mama," Katie said softly, and Quentin realized she'd gone into the next room.  He ran into the next room and stopped short.  He could smell her scent, and tears stung his eyes.  The bed was unmade in here, too.  There was a closed suitcase on the floor.  Katie held a framed picture in her hands, tears streaming down her face.  She turned and showed it to Quentin.  </div> <div> "She's really here," he said thickly, looking at the picture taken in Vienna just before Christmas in 1937.  They all looked happy-none of them knew what was ahead of them.  He felt tears roll down his face too as he looked at the picture.  Beth and Quentin, surrounded by Nora, Mary Jane, Peter, and Katie.  "Where is she?"  He put his arm around Katie.  No one was here-that was very apparent.</div> <div> As they went to the stairs, Quentin decided to check Josette's room.  "Oh!" Katie gasped.  The shutters were closed in here, but in the dimness they could both see that someone was lying on the bed.  "Mama?"  She started into the room, but Quentin reached out and grabbed her arm.  He wanted to go first.  Slowly they approached the bed.  From far away, Quentin heard Katie begin to scream.</div> <div> He felt as if he was on the other end of a telescope, far away, looking down at the body of CaraLinda.  Her throat had been cut from ear to ear, and her features were frozen in a grin of pain and terror.  Above the bed were the words: <I>You're getting warmer, my dear.</I>  Too frightened to use the phone, Quentin and Katie ran out of the Old House and almost the entire way back to Chris' van.  Quentin was afraid Katie would have a heart attack; she was wheezing and out of breath and her face looked gray.  "Are you okay?" Quentin asked as the reached the van.</div> <div> "Where's Mama?" Katie wept, even as she nodded.</div> <div> "What the hell happened?" Chris asked, jumping out of the van.</div> <div> "No, no, man, we've got to get out of here-call the sheriff," Quentin said.</div> <div> "What about the phone?"</div> <div> "Just get in and drive, man!"</div> <bR> <div>      They drove in silence to Collinsport. As they neared the sheriff's office, Quentin suddenly grabbed Chris's arm.  "Pull over a minute."  He was thinking rapidly. "We'll tell the sheriff about Collinwood-not about the Old House."</div> <div>      "Daddy!" Katie exclaimed, shocked.</div> <div>      Quentin looked back at her.  "Listen, I want them to check out Collinwood first-then go to the Old House themselves.  Technically, we were breaking and entering over there.  They'll find CaraLinda and their prime suspects will be us!"</div> <div>      "That's right-I don't know this new sheriff, do you?" Chris asked.</div> <div>      "No.  Listen, humor me-would you mind doing the talking?"</div> <div>      Chris looked at him, puzzled.  "I don't mind-but why?"</div> <div>      "I have a feeling," Quentin began.  "I don't want it known that any Collinses are back."  He thought; he needed an alias.  He didn't want to be Grant Douglas, either.  </div> <div>      "You can be Joe Baumgartner," Katie suggested.</div> <div>      "Not Baumgartner," Quentin objected.  </div> <div>      "Haskell," Chris suggested quietly as Katie and Quentin exchanged frightened looks.  Yes, it was possible Petofi knew all about the Baumgartners.</div> <div>      "Okay, sounds good," Quentin agreed immediately.</div> <div>      They pulled up in front on the sheriff's office.  Everyone got out.  Chris led the way inside.  The sheriff, a lean rangy man with a thick bristling moustache,  looked up with surprise.  "Morning.  I'm Sheriff Burns.  What can I do for your folks?"</div> <div>      "Sheriff, my name's Chris Jennings.  My family and I drove up from New York to visit some distant relatives."  Chris paused significantly.  "The Collinses."  He had the sheriff's attention.  "We drove straight there, see, and when we pulled into the driveway, we saw the door was open.  There wasn't anybody there, nor at the other house neither.  And what's really odd is that the dishes are all set out for breakfast."</div> <div>      The sheriff got up abruptly.  "Did you touch anything?" he asked.  </div> <div>      "Not much," Chris answered truthfully.</div> <div>      "Was anything else missing or disturbed?"</div> <div>      "There was a chair knocked over," Katie answered.</div> <div>      The sheriff looked at each one of them. "You didn't think to phone from there?"</div> <div>      "Hey, man, it was just so weird.  We didn't know whether the phone was working or not," said Chris.  </div> <div>      The sheriff picked up the phone and dialed out quickly.  "It's ringing," he said.  After a few moments, he hung up.  "No answer," he said.  "I'm going to take a deputy and go out and have a look.  Where will you all be?"</div> <div>      "You got an inn?" Quentin asked, finally speaking.</div> <div>      "Yes, we do.  Nicest one is two blocks from here.  Okay, I'll go have a look and then I'll come and find you at the inn, Mr.--Jennings?"</div> <div>      "Haskell," Quentin corrected.  "Another cousin."</div> <div>      "All right, Mr. Haskell.  I'll come and look for you at the inn.  Please don't take it into your head to leave town.  I'll find you."</div> <div>      "Man, what're you thinking?  We're worried about our family, is all!"  Chris protested.</div> <div>      "Funny, I've never heard anyone speak of any family out of New York," the sheriff retorted.  "Just stay at the inn and make yourselves comfortable."</div> <bR> <div>      "That guy is new," Chris said as they checked themselves into the Collinsport Inn.  "He's not from around here at all, is he?  I don't know any family named Burns.  The thing is, Quentin, someone else is bound to recognize you and me, Sabrina and Amy.  Are you sure this was such a good idea?"</div> <div>      "I just think it's better to play it this way.  I don't know how many people remember me anyway.  I wasn't here all that long.  As for you guys, maybe we ought to just stay out of sight so that the locals don't see us-at least until we figure out what's happened."</div> <div>      Quentin and Katie got a suite with two bedrooms, and the Jennings family got a room with two double beds.  Quentin suspected there was only one suite and when he saw it, his heart sank.  It was the one he'd shared with Amanda.  He didn't say anything, however.  Restlessly, he paced in the outer living area.  Once they were settled, Chris, Sabrina and Amy knocked at the door.  When she came in, Amy got an odd look on her face.  "It's revenge.  What was done was for revenge.  He hates the whole family."</div> <div>      Petofi, Quentin thought, going cold.  "Can you see him, Amy?"</div> <div>      She shook her head, shutting her eyes tightly.  "I can only hear someone thinking-mind snatcher, he's the mind snatcher!"</div> <div>      "Who's thinking, Amy?" Chris asked.</div> <div>      "I don't know who she is, but she's scared," Amy replied, crying.  As her vision abated, Quentin chewed his nails.  He wanted very badly to press Amy but he couldn't make her see something that wasn't there or know something that was beyond her understanding.  <I>It must be Beth,</I> he thought. <I>Amy knows everyone else at Collinwood.</I>  "I don't like it here," Amy whispered.</div> <div>      "Let's go get lunch," Quentin suggested.  He didn't want to, but he felt he had to get out of this room.</div> <div>       The little group went into the Inn's small dining room and sat at a table.  They were finishing their meal when Quentin looked out the window and saw Sheriff Burns's car pull up outside.  The tall sheriff and his deputy entered the lobby first and then came into the dining room and approached the table..</div> <div>      "This is my deputy, Curt Slade," Sheriff Burns said to us.  "Folks, I have to tell you that this may be a little hick town to you, but we really don't appreciate practical jokes on police around here."</div> <div>      "Sir?" Chris said, startled.</div> <div>      "I mean, I went to Collinwood because I thought maybe something had happened.  Do you know that I can charge you with making a false report?"</div> <div>      Everyone was reacting now.  "False report?" Quentin repeated, getting up.</div> <div>      "Sit down, Mr. Haskell.  You all sit still and listen to me.  We drove out to Collinwood, and there were no open doors.  That front door was shut as tight as a drum."  As the sheriff spoke, Quentin felt as if his jaw hit the floor.  "We knocked, but there was no answer."</div> <div>      "Did you try the door?  Was it locked?"  Quentin demanded.  <I>What the hell is going on?</I></div> <div>      "Now, Mr. Haskell, you calm down.  Yes, the door was locked.  No, we didn't try it.  There's such a thing as breaking and entering, did you know that, Mr. Haskell?"</div> <div>      "But--but--" Quentin was sputtering.</div> <div>      "We did have a little look-see because we were concerned there might be some OTHER signs of foul play you all might've neglected to mention.  I have to tell you, we didn't see any.  It was deserted, yes.  Nothing else was out of the ordinary."  He looked hard at first Chris and then Quentin.  "I mean NOTHING.  There are big windows there at Collinwood, as you know.  As we were walking the grounds, we could see in.  There were no dishes set out on the dining room table, nor in the kitchen.  There was no food set out." Everyone stared at each other, wide-eyed.</div> <div>      "How do you explain the fact that no one answered the door?"  Quentin asked finally, when he could speak.</div> <div>      "Well, young man, even out here in the country we do like to go out on shopping jaunts."</div> <div>      "Look, it's not like that," Quentin protested.  "We really are concerned about the family.  We're telling you the truth.  We really are worried."</div> <div>      The sheriff looked at him mildly.  "All right, young man, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.  You folks don't seem like the kind to cause trouble and you seem a little old for pulling kid pranks.  Tell me, were the Collinses expecting you?"</div> <div>      "Yes, they knew we were coming in time for lunch," Chris answered.</div> <div>      "Well, maybe they just went out shopping and got sidetracked for awhile. I'm sure someone will be back shortly."  The sheriff smiled thinly.  "Some of them DO work after all," he added dryly.  "Fact is, I can't do much of anything right now.  I have no evidence that anything is wrong beyond what you reported and we just didn't see it."  He got up.  "You plan on staying?"</div> <div>      "As of right now, we do," Chris said.</div> <div>      "Okay, if I hear of anything different, I'll let you know," said the sheriff, and then he left.  Nobody could say a word.</div> <div>      After Sheriff Burns left, Chris asked, "Well, what now?"</div> <div>      "We'll call the plant," Quentin said thoughtfully.  "Let's see if Roger is there."</div> <div>      In fact, Roger was not at the plant, a fact that had the office in a tizzy.  It was unlike him not to show up at the cannery lately, and especially not when he had appointments waiting.  His secretary tried calling Collinwood, but there was no answer.  She had no idea where he could be-he hadn't said a word about any out-of-town trips.  Quentin hung up, feeling queasy..  </div> <div>      Sabrina was exhausted and wanted to lie down.  She excused herself and went back to the room she was sharing with Chris and Amy.  The others retreated to the suite to talk about what to do next. There was still CaraLinda-Quentin didn't feel right about just leaving her where she was "Do you want to come back with me to the Old House," he said to Chris quietly.</div> <div>      "You don't have to," Amy said suddenly.  "She's gone."</div> <div>      "Where did she go?"</div> <div>      "He took her away so that the sheriff wouldn't see," Amy replied tiredly.  </div> <div>      Quentin hated to press the child; her face looked pinched and pale.  If she knew anything that could help them, though, he had to do it.  The phone rang, startling them all.  At the same time, someone knocked at the door.  Could this get any screwier?  Quentin wondered.  He went for the phone as Katie went to answer the door.  It was Sabrina, waken out of her sleep by a call from the sheriff.</div> <div>      "Hello?" Quentin said into the phone.</div> <div>      "Hello, Mr. Haskell?" Sheriff Burns said.  "I tried calling the Jennings room-"</div> <div>      "He's here, Sheriff, what's up?" Quentin asked.</div> <div>      "Do any of you know a Timothy Eliot Stokes?"</div> <div>      Quentin's mouth went dry.  He looked at Chris.  "Yes, we know him.  He's a friend of the family."  </div> <div>      Amy stood up, her face draining of all color.  "Is he dead?" she asked faintly.</div> <div>      "What about Professor Stokes?" Quentin asked now.</div> <div>      "I'll come over and explain it if that's all right," the sheriff replied.  It sounded ominous.</div> <bR> <div>      Sheriff Burns and Deputy Slade drove them in two cars to the modernized hospital in Rockport.  Quentin and Katie rode in the squad car with the officers; Chris, Sabrina, and Amy followed in the van.  No one felt safe being separated from the others.  This hospital  had the most modern trauma center in the region, Sheriff Burns explained.  That was why Professor Stokes had been brought here.  </div> <div>      "Trauma," Quentin repeated.  "What happened?  Was it a car accident?"</div> <div>      The sheriff looked stunned, as if he couldn't believe what he was about to say.  "It appears the attacker attempted to smash the Professor's head in with a hammer."</div> <div>      Katie looked horrified, and Quentin asked, "Why?  Did he say?"</div> <div>      "She, Mr. Haskell.  No-she hasn't said anything.  We had her taken to Windcliff for observation.  She was very violent and had to be restrained."</div> <div>      "Do you know who she is?" Quentin asked, with a feeling of dread.</div> <div>      The sheriff looked troubled.  "Carolyn Stoddard."</div> <div>      "Carolyn!" Quentin exclaimed, shocked.  "Carolyn wouldn't hurt anyone!"</div> <div>      "I know, Mr. Haskell-that's why I'm beginning to put a lot more stock into your story."</div> <div>      When they got to the hospital, Quentin asked for a moment alone with the Jennings' family.  He took Chris aside and told him what happened to Professor Stokes.  "Look, I think you all should stay in the waiting room," he advised and Chris agreed.</div> <div>      Quentin was not ready for what he saw in the intensive care unit.  Professor Stokes was still alive, barely, after having hours of surgery to repair the damage done to his skull and brain.  A doctor was there, talking at them, explaining, describing.  Quentin couldn't understand how Stokes could still be alive.  His skull had been cracked open, his brain exposed, bone chips driven into his brain....it was sickening, horrifying.  Everyone believed that Carolyn had committed the act.  The whole thing was unreal.</div> <div>      "From what you're saying, then, I probably won't be able to get anything out of him," the sheriff said.  "Can he understand anything that is said to him?"</div> <div>      "I can't answer that one for you, Sheriff.  I can tell you that he couldn't speak if he wanted to.  There is a tube down his throat to help him breathe right now.  As for what he might understand, I really don't know.  We're still learning about brain injuries.  I can't tell you how much damage he's suffered.  I can only tell you that he won't ever be the same person you once knew."</div> <div>      The sheriff shook his mind.  "You mind if I see him, speak to him?"</div> <div>      The doctor looked at the three of them.  "Just you, though, sheriff."  He looked at Quentin.  "Unless you're family?"</div> <div>      Quentin cleared his throat, started to speak and then stopped, thinking of how much the professor had meant to him-and he'd never realized it.  "I'm a friend, " he finally managed to answer.</div> <div>      The doctor nodded.  "He seems to have no immediate family.  There's a niece--she lives at Collinwood?"</div> <div>      "There were plans for the two children to go to Boston to prep school, " the sheriff answered.  "I don't know if Hallie Stokes and David Collins ever went.  Something seems to have happened to the family at Collinwood.  We're proceeding with an investigation on the suspicion of foul play, especially in view of what's happened here with Professor Stokes."</div> <div>      The doctor nodded.  "Come along with me."  He looked at Deputy Slade and Quentin. "I'd appreciate it if the rest of you would wait outside the room."  He took them past cubicles filled with people who lay as still as death, hooked up to machines that whistled and hissed.  "Those are the ventilators," the doctor explained.</div> <div>      The doctor took the sheriff into the cubicle which held the barely living body of Professor Stokes.  Quentin looked in and then had to look away.  He leaned against the wall, feeling sick. The Professor's eyes were swollen shut, enormous and purple.  His head seemed misshapen and there were tapes and tubes running from his nose and arms.  The big blue ventilator tube was taped to his mouth, and his hands were tied to the sides of the bed.  The machine made a whooshing and sucking noise.  </div> <div>      "Why is he tied like that?"  he asked, feeling his eyes filling with tears.  He remembered how the professor had saved him from madness and now-he was helpless.  He couldn't save Stokes now.</div> <div>      "So he doesn't try to pull the tube out if he wakes up," the doctor explained.  "It's involuntary.  The patients can't help it."</div> <div>      We could hear the sheriff speaking softly to Professor Stokes.  "Elliot?  It's Mike, Elliot.  You had yourself some surgery, but you'll be all right.  When you're feeling better, we can talk about what happened.  Do you know me, Eliot?  You helped my son with his history.  Eliot?  You rest and take care of yourself.  I'll be back."  The sheriff came out of the cubicle and brushed past us.  "Sometimes it's damn hard working in this small towns!"  He said gruffly.</div> <div>      "Would we be able to see Carolyn Stoddard?" Quentin asked.</div> <div>      Sheriff Burns looked at him.  "What for?"</div> <div>      "I don't know," Quentin answered, feeling helpless and desperate.  "Maybe she'll recognize us."</div> <div>      The sheriff studied him a moment and then said, "All right."</div> <div>      </div> <div>      Windcliff looked like a hospital for the emotionally disturbed.  It was big and imposing and very grim looking.  Amy trembled as they approached the entrance to the hospital.  "I don't think we should've brought her," Chris whispered to Quentin under his breath.  "This brings back bad memories."     </div> <div> Amy  heard.  "Maybe I can help, though, Chris, please!"</div> <div>      They went into the hospital and down into one of the wards.  A doctor came forward to greet them.  He said his name was Martin Baughmann and that he was a colleague of Dr. Hoffman's.   "We're here to see Carolyn Stoddard Hawkes."</div> <div>      "Oh?" The doctor looked at the five visitors.  "Are you family?"     "Cousins," Quentin answered uneasily.</div> <div>      "Has her condition changed?" the sheriff asked.</div> <div>      Dr. Baughmann indicated a lounge and ushered them inside. Everyone sat down.  "I wish I could understand this enough to explain it to you," he began.  "The woman is not--rational.  In fact, I would have to say that at this point, she should be considered--psychotic.  Dangerously so."</div> <div>      "Is she mentally disturbed?  Or maybe it's from drugs?"</div> <div>      "I have no idea.  We haven't been able to make any sense out of anything she's said."</div> <div>      "Would she be capable of attacking Professor Stokes?" the sheriff asked.</div> <div>      "It's difficult to say," the doctor said.  "I wouldn't have thought her  strong enough to hit the professor that hard, but I just can't be sure without further evaluation and testing."</div> <div>      Quentin cleared his throat and spoke up.  "Can I talk to her?"</div> <div>      "I don't think that would be a very good idea."  The doctor stood up.  "She is restrained.  It isn't very pleasant, but I can take you to her.  You can see her through a two-way mirror.  She won't know that you're there."</div> <div>      The doctor led them down a short hallway to a barred, locked door.  He took a ring of keys out, selected one, and opened the lock.  After they passed through the door, he placed the lock back on the door and snapped the hasp.  There was a guard and several orderlies in this area.  All the doors and windows were barred.  It was totally scary.  </div> <div>      The doctor unlocked what appeared to be a closet door  and they went into what turned out to be some kind of observation room.  A nurse was seated before a large picture window.  "Any change?" Dr. Baughmann asked.  The nurse shook her head, no.  "She's there," the doctor pointed.  It seemed as if he couldn't bring himself to go and look for himself.  His voice sounded pained.  "She can't see you," he went on.  "She won't know you're here.  You'll be able to see her and hear anything she says."</div> <div>      Quentin walked toward the window, clutching Katie's hand tightly. He hated this place even though he didn't remember much of his stay here.  He remembered how ill Carolyn had been.  He put his hand on the window and stared, shocked, speechless.  <I>My God, no!</I>  He heard Katie gasp.  The sheriff also seemed unable to say anything.     The woman in the room barely looked human anymore.  She was straightjacketed, and her face was covered with blood. "Why is she bleeding?"  Chris asked, horrified.</div> <div>      "Watch," said the nurse.  "We're going to have to tie her to the bed, Marty," she added turning toward the doctor. Suddenly, the woman in the room raced at the door.  The whole room was padded, but she hit the door with great force--head on.  "You see?  She's been using her face as a target."</div> <div>      "My God," Quentin said, his face contracting with pain.  "Carolyn!"</div> <div> "Let's do it," Dr. Baughmann said.  The nurse left the room, and suddenly there was a flurry of activity.</div> <div>      "What's happening?" Sheriff Burns asked.</div> <div>      "We're going to wrap her in wet, cold sheets and restrain her to a bed," the doctor explained.  People filled the room next door; the woman fought and screamed.</div> <div>      "How can you do that?"  Sabrina asked, appalled.</div> <div>      "Sometimes it helps to calm a person having a psychotic episode," the doctor explained.</div> <div>      The woman continued to scream and flail.</div> <div>      Sheriff Burns looked at Quentin. Quentin couldn't speak.  He was in shock, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing.  "Do you know what is she saying?  I can't understand her."</div> <div>      "No one's been able to understand her."</div> <div>      "That's because she isn't speaking English," Amy explained, moving toward the window as if in a trance.  She put her hand on the window.</div> <div>      "How do you know it's not English?" asked the sheriff sharply.</div> <div>      "You can tell-listen to her.  It's some kind of Roma language."  Everyone stared at Amy, thunderstruck.</div> <div>      "Roma?" the sheriff repeated blankly.  "What the hell is that?  And how do YOU know what it is?"</div> <div>      "It's the same language that CaraLinda knows," Amy insisted.</div> <div>      Quentin looked at Carolyn wildly.  <I>What happened to her?</I>  "Can I go in there and talk to her?  Please?  Maybe she'll know me."  He remembered the last time-he'd held Carolyn and soothed her and eventually her sanity came back.</div> <div>      "I'm sorry-we can't allow that.  Not until she's calmed down considerably."</div> <div>      Quentin hit the window with his fist, frustrated.  He hated the thought of these people wrapping Carolyn in ice cold sheets to calm her down.  <I>If they'd just let me see her</I>  <I>maybe I could help her somehow.</I>  "Where's Dr. Longworth?" he asked abruptly.</div> <div>      "He's on a temporary leave of absence."</div> <div>      Shit, Quentin thought, bitterly disappointed.  We need his help, especially with Stokes incapacitated like he is.  He closed his eyes, trying not to see that kind man lying helplessly in the hospital bed.  <I>He's dead, and Carolyn killed him…and where is everyone else?  Where is Beth?</I></div> <div>      Quentin insisted on coming back to Windcliff later to talk to Dr. Baughmann, who made an appointment.  The doctor was amenable to another meeting-any information he could get would be helpful.  </div> <bR> <div> Quentin wanted to talk to Sheriff Burns, and the two talked together in an undertone.  Then, shaking his head, the sheriff approached us, bringing Deputy Slade along.  "This gets stranger and stranger," he remarked.  The deputy held a folded piece of paper in his hand, turning it over and over nervously.</div> <div>      "Would any of you recognize Roger Collins' handwriting?" the sheriff asked.  </div> <div>      There was silence.  Then Quentin said, "We've written back and forth a couple of times.  Maybe."</div> <div>      "Show him," said the sheriff.  Deputy Slade handed the letter to Quentin, who opened it and read it.  His face paled.  Wordlessly, he turned toward Chris and held the letter out to him; he took it him and read it, his jaw dropping with shock.</div> <div>      "Is this for real?"  Quentin asked.  It was a one page, notarized statement on legal letterhead, tersely stating that Roger was turning over the business and family home to one Adam Collins for the period of time that he and his family was away.  "Who's this?"</div> <div>      "I hoped you might know," the sheriff said in a deceptively mild tone, "which is why I showed it to you.  Not a member of the family, eh?"</div> <div>      "Not that I know of."  Quentin's brows were furrowed now, and he looked intensely annoyed.</div> <div>      "Well, maybe it's some distant relative," Chris guessed.</div> <div>      Quentin glared at him.  </div> <div>      "Well, Mr.  Collins is here with his associate," Deputy Slade cut in.  "He's checked in here. He's probably around, somewhere."</div> <div>      "You want to meet this gentleman who is about to make a claim on Collinwood?" the sheriff asked.  "Perhaps he can explain where the family is.  I know I'D like to talk to him."</div> <div>      "Maybe we can meet you inside," Quentin suggested.  "Give you a chance to look the man over and size him up a little."  </div> <div>      Sheriff Burns gave Quentin an odd look.  "Whatever you say, Mr. Haskell."  He and the deputy entered the inn.</div> <div>      Chris squared off and glared back at Quentin.  "All right--WHAT?"</div> <div>      "Chances are whoever this is knows what happened.  Chances are, he might recognize me.  I'd kind of like to stay in the background if you don't mind.  I'd like for you to go in and meet him.  See what he's got to say."</div> <div>      "Oh, right, and where are you going to be?  In harm's way, too?"</div> <div>      "No, I'll be there.  I just want to be in the background.  I want him looking at you, not me.  I want to see if I recognize him.  Look, I need you to help me here, Chris."</div> <div>      "Okay," Chris agreed reluctantly.  </div> <div>      "You know," Amy said suddenly, "Roger Collins didn't sign that paper because he wanted to.  He was forced."  She looked at Quentin.  "You knew it, too, didn't you?"</div> <div>      "I suspected it," said Quentin.  "I suspected something really terrible has happened, and I don't know what it is.  I don't know how to help. "</div> <div>      When they were ready, they all went into the inn, Quentin  and Katie lagging behind. He moved off to the side, sat down, and picked up a newspaper.  Chris, Sabrina, and Amy moved forward to meet the sheriff and the deputy.  The man standing with them was dressed in a really classy, expensive suit. He was extremely tall and broad shouldered, with very thick dark black hair, sensitive brown eyes and a beard.  From where he sat, Quentin thought the man might have been in an accident once.  There were scars on his face although they were faded as if with age or by surgery.   He looked very stern, but when he saw the little group coming he smiled broadly.  It was like looking at the dark twin of Santa Claus.</div> <div>      "Mr. Collins, these are the relatives I was telling you about."</div> <div>      "It's a real pleasure to meet you," Mr.  Collins said heartily, shaking Chris's hand.  "I am sure your family will be sorry they missed you!"</div> <div>      "Yeah, well, uh, we were hoping you could tell us where they are," Chris answered, pulling his hand back and unconsciously shaking it a little.  "They left kind of sudden like."</div> <div>      Mr. Collins laughed heartily, but it sounded a little unpleasant to me.  "Perhaps it seems that way.  But were they expecting you?  I have a feeling this was a surprise visit."</div> <div>      "As was yours," the sheriff said.</div> <div>      "I am a business associate of Roger Collins as well as a distant cousin.  I have been his silent partner and advisor for years.  He asked me a favor and I agreed," Mr. Collins said simply.</div> <div>      "Well, we were just worried because the family left so suddenly," Chris said again.</div> <div>      "Mr. Jennings, it really wasn't that suddenly.  We'd been discussing this move for months."</div> <div>      "His secretary reported Mr. Collins missing.  He missed his business appointment this morning," the sheriff said.</div> <div>      "Unfortunate we didn't think to call," Mr. Collins said easily.  "You see, Sheriff, if you ask the secretary to check the appointment book, you'll see that I was that appointment.  It so happened we chose to keep it at the airport in Bangor.  He turned the keys over to me along with a number of files."</div> <div>      "Was the whole family there at the airport?" Chris asked.</div> <div>      Mr. Collins shrugged.  "I suppose so.  There were quite a number of people milling around."</div> <div>      "Where were they going?  Did they say?"  asked the sheriff.</div> <div>      Mr. Collins again laughed that hearty, unpleasant sounding laugh.  "To a family reunion, I believe.  In Ireland."</div> <div>      "IRELAND?"</div> <div>      "Why, yes indeed, Mr. Jennings.  The family has its roots in Ireland, does it not?"</div> <div>      Chris just stuttered, dumbfounded.</div> <div>      "Well," Mr. Collins said dismissively, "you really must excuse me now.  I am very tired.  I shall retire to my room for a short period of rest before having my driver take me out to Collinwood."</div> <div>      "This stinks," said the sheriff.  "You don't know that man, obviously."</div> <div>      "Never met him before in my life,"  Chris said.</div> <div>      "We'll keep in touch," said the sheriff.  "I think we need to talk, Curt."  He stopped short.  "By the way, where is Mr. Haskell?"</div> <div>      "In the lobby with Mrs. Baumgartner," Chris said quickly. The sheriff nodded and left, Curt following behind. The Jennings family joined Quentin and Katie. "Man, that guy was SPOOKY! Just touching him gave me the heebie-jeebies!"</div> <div>      "He's very old,"  Amy said.</div> <div>      "Not THAT old," Chris objected but there was something odd about Amy's tone that everyone noticed.  There was something out of the ordinary about Mr. Collins.</div> <bR> <div>      What to do now?  Quentin convinced Chris to come with him to sneak in and explore the Old House and Collinwood from the hidden passages.  Katie wanted to help, but Quentin didn't want her involved.  "I want to know where Mama is," Katie said stubbornly.  Appeasingly, Quentin said she'd be more helpful looking after the pregnant Sabrina  and a very reluctant Amy.  Amy was staging her own rebellion, insisting she couldn't use her power and help anyone if she couldn't go with Chris and Quentin.</div> <div> Chris and Quentin walked down to the shore, planning to pick their way among the beach and rocks to the caves leading to the Old House.   They didn't speak.   Both men were preoccupied with their own thoughts and concerns about Carolyn.  Quentin couldn't get Beth out of his mind.  <I>She was here, she was here.  Where is she now? </I></div> <div> "Here," Quentin finally said tersely, finding the cave.  He started inside and stopped, so many memories filling him suddenly.  His eyes filled with tears.  This was not only the place Barnabas had hidden his coffin, it was also where he and Beth had made love one hot summer's afternoon when they need had come on them and they hadn't wanted to wait to get back inside.  It was wild and wanton, and Beth had been so ashamed of herself-ladies didn't do <B>that</B>, and he'd laughed at her for it.  He wished he could take it back.</div> <div> "Quentin?" Chris said, shaking him a little.  Quentin stirred and realized he could hear a dog barking.  It was a deep, unpleasant sound and it was coming closer.  He and Chris both entered the cave and peered out from their refuge.  Adam Collins was approaching with a mastiff.  Every once in a while, he flung a piece of meat up into the air, and the beast snapped it up easily.  To Quentin's surprise though, he didn't swallow it.  He would bring the meat to Collins, who would praise dog and then allow him to scarf it down.  "Well trained animal, isn't he?" Chris said in a low tone.  Quentin shuddered.  The mastiff reminded him of some of the animals the Nazi officers handled.</div> <div> Quentin poked Chris.  He saw someone else approaching now from the other direction.  Quentin recognized him instantly.  It was Nicholas Blair, wearing a gray coat and fedora.  He strode purposefully toward Adam Collins, who reached out to shake hands.</div> <div> "He's got gloves," Chris observed, surprised.  Quentin noticed that too, wondering why.  "That other guy looks familiar."</div> <div> "He would-it's Nicholas Blair.  Maybe you saw him with Bruno or Jeb," Quentin answered softly.</div> <div> "I thought he was dead," Chris gulped.  </div> <div> "Obviously not.  He's not a man you know-he's a demon.  They keep coming back," Quentin said.  He stared at Adam Collins' gloves.  It should have been impossible for the man to hear Quentin and Chris talking but he seemed to have heard <I>something.</I>  He looked around suspiciously.  His eyes locked on Quentin's and glittered malevolently.</div> <div> Quentin reeled back immediately, pulling Chris with him.  "Shit! Shit!"  He shoved Chris further into the cave.  "Go, Chris, RUN!" he ordered harshly.  Chris didn't argue.  He ran headlong into the darkness of the cave, Quentin on his heels. </div> <div>  They'd only gone a few yards when the light totally disappeared, and Chris slowed to a halt.  "Quentin, who is he?  He knows you, doesn't he?"</div> <div> "Yes, yes, he does, but I don't know <I>how</I> because I don't know <I>him</I>," Quentin answered, distressed.</div> <div> "Oh, man, this just gets worse and worse.  What if the two of them go into town?  What if they find the women alone?" Chris fretted.</div> <div> "Calm down-I think they might know we're here.  I don't think they'll go to town," Quentin tried to reassure Chris but he didn't feel quite so sure.  "Look, this cave goes to the Old House.  We'll go there-get out, and then we'll go back to the Inn."  </div> <div> "Are you sure this goes to the Old House?" Chris asked doubtfully.</div> <div> "Yeah," Quentin answered, taking the lead.  A little further on, they came to a narrower passageway. "Listen, it's really small in there.  You're going to have to crawl now."</div> <div> "Quentin, are you sure-"</div> <div> "Yes, I'm sure!"  Quentin snapped.  "I've been here before, Chris, don't you get it?  When I was a kid-and another time.  Now just follow me."  There was a ledge and he boosted himself up and then turned to take Chris' hand.  "Remember-you have to crawl."</div> <div> "Jeez," Chris complained.  They crawled down a narrow passageway, barely wide enough to fit an adult.  Quentin found the brick wall and pushed on it.  Part of an inner wall swung in.  "Far out!" Chris exclaimed as he followed Quentin into a cold, damp room.  There was a moldy bed with an old leg iron lying on the floor.  "This is a cell?"  There was a little more light in here-from old casement windows.</div> <div> "Let's just get out of here," Quentin urged, unnerved by Adam Collins' eyes.  He pulled at Chris insistently.</div> <div> "Where is this anyway, Quentin?"  Chris asked.</div> <div>      "This is the basement of the Old House," Quentin explained.  He'd gotten the door open.  Edward had held Barnabas in here back in 1897.  Before that, as boys, Quentin and his brother Carl played around in here.  <I>How did we stand it down here?  It's awful-it's creepy,</I> he thought.  There was a slight noise nearby.  He put his arm out to stop Chris, listening.  He heard it again-it sounded like a whimper.  "Who's there?" he called.</div> <div>      The whimper came again.  "<I>Hilfe werde ich erschrocken</I>!"  The voice was low and hoarse, but Quentin's heart began to skip and bound.  The frightened woman was asking for help.</div> <div>      "What's she say?" Chris asked.</div> <div>      "<I>Wo bist du</I>?" Quentin called back, ignoring Chris.</div> <div>      There was a pause, and Quentin imagined the woman hearing his voice, recognizing him, and reacting with the same shock he felt now.  Finally:  "Ich verstecke mich im folgenden Raum!"  She was hiding in the room next door.  </div> <div> Quentin was barely aware of Chris' presence.  He went to the next door and gently eased it open.  "Beth?" he called softly.</div> <div> "Oh!"  The voice came from the corner, followed by soft weeping.</div> <div> "Beth?" Chris repeated stupidly.  "Is it her, Quentin?"</div> <div> "Beth," Quentin said again.  "Wo bist du?" he asked again.  He couldn't see her; she was still hiding.</div> <div> "Quentin?" the quavering voice came from the corner again.  Quentin made his way there and crouched down.  He reached out and touched her.  Tears were streaming down her face.  "Mein Gott, glaube ich es nicht!"  <I>My God, I can't believe it!</I>  Suddenly, he felt her arms go around his neck.</div> <div> "Oh, my God!" he breathed, gathering her to him.  "Beth, is it you?"  He couldn't believe how light she was.  She was thin and bony, he could feel her cheekbones against his face; her ribs beneath his fingers. He felt adrenaline coursing through his body, causing his heart to pound wildly.  He nearly toppled over; the room felt like it was spinning, even here in the dark.  His heart was pounding so hard now he could hear it in his ears-it was like the night he'd faced Petofi in the airless barn.  This was different, though-it wasn't evil he was afraid of.  Suddenly, he was afraid of her, afraid to touch her and even to hear her now.   He began to cry with her, unashamed.  "How did you get here?" he asked finally, hoarsely.</div> <div> "Quentin," she answered softly, touching his face. "Oh- meine Liebe, wird es so lang gewesen! Ich glaubte, daß wir nie zusammen wieder sein würden!" Oh my love, she called him, he understood that clearly, and the fact that she'd thought they'd never be together again. Then the words began to tumble out.  Quentin tried to follow what she was saying and wondered why she was speaking in German.  "Julia und Barnabas baten mich, sich hier zu verstecken. Sie sagten, daß ich in der Gefahr -- von Petofi war. Ich kann nicht mich erinnern, an wie lang ich hier gewesen bin. Eine lange Zeit, denke ich. Ich hörte laute Stimmen, eine Frau. Ich bin also erschrocken! "</div> <div> "Beth, auf Englisch bitte!"  Quentin asked her to speak in English.  He understood that Barnabas and Julia had hidden her here-something about Petofi, arguing, and a woman screaming.</div> <div> Beth clutched at his hands.  "Is hard for me,  you see? I have not thought with English for so long-"  She burst into tears.</div> <div> "Oh, God!"  Quentin had forgotten how long she'd been lost.  He pressed his lips to her hair and her neck.  "Thank God I've got you back!  Are you really all right?"</div> <div> Beth didn't answer.  She continued to cry silently, running her hands through his hair.  </div> <div> "Uh-" Chris finally said, uncomfortably.  "We should split, Quentin."</div> <div> "Yes, yes," Quentin agreed.  "Beth, can you walk?"  When she didn't answer, he told her "<I>Wir müssen jetzt gehen</I>!"</div> <div> Beth nodded and let Quentin help her stand up.  He put his arm around her.  Her shoulders felt bony and frail.  They left the room and started up the stairs.  They were about half way up when the front door opened and slammed shut.  Beth froze immediately, and Quentin felt the hairs on his neck prickle and stand up on end.  "No," Beth whimpered.</div> <div> "Back, back!" Quentin exclaimed, turning on the stairs.  Chris took the lead, running back the way they'd come, with Quentin following closely behind, pulling Beth along with him.  They went back into the small cell, and Chris hoisted himself up into the small crawlspace.  Beth stopped short, but Quentin said urgently, "Go, go, go, Beth!"  He lifted her up, feeling Chris grab her by the arms and pull.  Beth gasped just once but disappeared into the crawlspace.  Quentin felt the stones scraping his hands and knees as he crawled through.  Finally they were in the main corridor, jumping down from the narrow passageway.</div> <div>      At the mouth of the cave, they exited cautiously, keeping down, looking around. They couldn't hear anyone behind them. Quentin raised his head up cautiously.  Then he motioned to Chris. "Come on, come on, " he urged. He still hadn't gotten a good look at Beth, but they had to get out of there-fast.  They started up the path and found it blocked by Mr. Collins.</div> <div> He grinned broadly and unpleasantly, like a shark.   "Guests," he said softly.  "But why didn't you come to the front door-like a normal guest would?"</div> <div> Beth ducked behind Quentin, burying her face into his shoulder.  He could feel her fists against his back.  She began trembling violently.  "We're family," Quentin finally managed to say hoarsely.  "We were just out for a walk."  Beside him, he saw Chris' head going up and down in agreement.</div> <div> The other man's smile didn't waver.  "Family?  I thought you all went to Ireland."  He noticed Chris.  "I remember you-with the sheriff."  His eyes went back to Quentin's.  "Just who are you?"</div> <div> "We're cousins-from New York," Quentin answered cautiously.  "We didn't know the family was going out of the country."</div> <div> "Some surprise, eh?"  The man was huge, a good three or four inches taller than Quentin was.  "Adam Collins.  And you are--?"  He stuck his hand out.</div> <div> Quentin took it, tentatively.  "Joe Haskell."  There was no change in Collins' expression as they shook hands; however, Adam Collins continued to hold Quentin's hand a moment too long.  Quentin pulled away gently and indicated Chris.  "My cousin, Chris Jennings."</div> <div> Adam Collins turned and shook hands with Chris politely and briefly.  He made as if to peer behind Quentin.</div> <div> "My wife, Beth," Quentin said.  "She isn't feeling well."</div> <div> "So I see," Adam Collins answered.  He almost seemed amused, although he had an expression of concern on his face.  "Would you like to come back to the house with me?  Call a doctor, perhaps?"</div> <div> "No, thank you," Quentin answered quickly.  "Our car is parked nearby.  We'll just go back to the Inn."</div> <div> "Ah.  You're staying in town?  But if you are relatives, you should come to Collinwood," Adam Collins said, grinning again.  This time, Quentin thought he looked like a wolf and felt chilled.  He began to protest but the strange new cousin cut him off.  "Please.  I insist.  At least come for dinner. "  His eyes hardened a little.  "You will, won't you?"</div> <div> <I>We'll never find out what happened to everyone otherwise</I>, Quentin thought.  He glanced over at Chris, who nodded slightly.  "All right," Quentin agreed.  "Tonight isn't good, though, we have plans," he added hastily, thinking that finding Beth was a shock everyone would have to absorb.</div> <div> "When then, if not tonight?" Adam Collins asked, his eyes boring into Quentin's with a burning intensity that scared him.</div> <div> "Tomorrow," Quentin answered impulsively and could have kicked himself.  He had a feeling this was a very bad idea, very bad.  <I>I'll deal with it later-the important thing now is to get away with Beth. . </I>He excused himself hurriedly, putting his arm around Beth and leading her away quickly. Chris was right on his heels. He could feel the eyes of Adam Collins boring into his back every step of the way and found that he was soaked with sweat by the time they got back to the van.</div> <div>  "Let's get outta here!" Quentin exclaimed, climbing into the back of the van, leading Beth by the hand.</div> <div> "You know it, man," Chris agreed. He started the van and floored it.</div> <div> Even now, Quentin thought he could feel Collins' eyes on him. He shuddered--and then remembered Beth. He turned toward her. Back in the basement of the Old House, everything had happened so fast. Now he turned toward her, feeling overwhelmed. He reached for her--and she backed away and whimpered in fear. Of all the possible reunions he'd acted out in his head, this had never occurred to him. He sat back, stunned, as Beth began to cry. He reached out for her again, tentatively. "It's all right, Beth," he said soothingly, but it wasn't all right at all.</div> <div>       </div> <div> They stopped near Boston for one of Sabrina's frequent rest stops.  Quentin had no idea that pregnant women had to go so much, and he was beside himself with impatience and the strain of trying not to show it.  If they drove through without another stop (which he doubted), they'd be in Collinsport in about four hours.  An arrival in time for brunch now was looking more like lunchtime.  It was a decent hour to call, so Quentin took the opportunity to call Collinwood again and asked for Barnabas.</div> <div> "Oh, heavens!" Mrs. Johnson exclaimed.  "Didn't I give you Mr. Barnabas' phone number?"</div> <div> Phone number?  "Barnabas has a phone?" Quentin couldn't believe what he'd just heard.  He began to remember something about major renovations at the Old House-something Roger had said during the summer.  "Does he have electricity too?"</div> <div> "Why, yes," Mrs. Johnson answered.  "And isn't it about time?  Here, do you have a pencil?"</div> <div> "Yes, go ahead."  Still stunned, Quentin copied the number onto the palm of his hand with a pen.  He looked at his hand thoughtfully.  What made him do it after all these years?  Julia-it had to be.  Julia wouldn't live in that drafty old house without a phone and electricity.  Quickly he dialed the other number.  It rang and rang, and Quentin hopped from foot to foot. <I>Come on, come on!</I></div> <div> "Hello?"  The familiar deep voice sounded hesitant and faint over the line.</div> <div> "Barnabas?"  Quentin was positive it was his cousin, but it sounded so totally unlike him.</div> <div> Almost at once, though, the voice changed.  It became stronger and warmer.  "Quentin!  Where are you?"</div> <div> "Boston.  We're on our way-we'll be there for lunch."  The words began tumbling out.  "Beth-where is she?  Is she there, Barnabas?  Where did you find her?  Is she all right?"</div> <div> "Quentin, Quentin!"  The voice finally penetrated and he stopped talking.  "I'm sorry, Beth is not here right now.  She and Julia went for a walk on the beach."  Quentin kicked the phone booth in frustration.  "What was that?"</div> <div> "Nothing!" Quentin grit his teeth, hopping, and grabbing for his injured foot.  Katie had emerged from the ladies' room first and immediately came to the phone booth, looking visibly disappointed when Quentin shook his head, no.</div> <div> "We'll explain everything to you when you get here, Quentin.  Let me assure you, though, that Beth is fine and is most anxious to see you again," Barnabas said kindly.  </div> <div> Quentin's throat ached.  "Barnabas, thank you."  His eyes began to fill with tears.  He was happy, he was disappointed and frustrated, and he was frightened.  </div> <div> "It's all right," Barnabas soothed.  "Quentin, the last time we saw each other, I-I  behaved cruelly toward you.  That has been bothering me all these months."</div> <div>      "Don't worry about it," Quentin cut in, his voice thick.  He couldn't take this, too.</div> <div> "But I do," Barnabas objected.</div> <div> "Barnabas, listen, this is important," Quentin interrupted again.  "Petofi is back.  He may be in Collinsport already."</div> <div> "Quentin, we've been through this," Barnabas said patiently.  "Petofi is dead."</div> <div> "No!" Quentin shouted, immediately alarmed.  "Don't you remember?  I told you, Barnabas-I told you he didn't die in the fire!"</div> <div> "I know that," Barnabas' voice continued to be soothing, as if he was talking to a child.  "He died in Romania.  I know that for a fact."</div> <div> "No! He didn't!  He's just been to Hunter, Barnabas-he's taken CaraLinda Romano away!"</div> <div> "Quentin, I don't understand what you're talking about.  Meet us all at Collinwood when you arrive.  We'll be waiting for you there, and you can tell us about it then."</div> <div> "Barnabas-"</div> <div> "I'll see you soon, Quentin." At that point, the operator told Quentin to deposit more coins to continue the conversation.  "That's not necessary.  We'll see you very soon, Quentin."  And Barnabas hung up.  Quentin stared at the receiver in disbelief.  He tried to call back immediately, ignoring Katie's questions.  This time, there was no answer.</div> <div> By now Sabrina and Amy had come out of the ladies' room.  "Something's wrong," Amy said immediately.  "He's there."</div> <div> "I don't know," Quentin fretted.  He looked at Sabrina.  "Can you make it to Collinsport without stopping again?  Please?"</div> <div> Sabrina looked pale and Chris put his arm around her.  "I'll try," she whispered apologetically.</div> <div> Quentin looked at Chris.  "We've really got to move, Chris."</div> <div> "Let's go," Chris said, and they all got back into the van.  "What's up, Quentin?"</div> <div> Quentin shook his head.  "It's Barnabas.  Something's wrong-we've just got to get there, man."</div> <div> Chris sped out of the parking lot.</div> <bR> <div> By noon, the van was pulling into the driveway at Collinwood.  The windows were all rolled down in spite of the cool autumn air.  So many people in the van created a lot of heat.  "It's so still," Amy noticed, setting Quentin's nerves jangling.  She added:  "The door is open!"  Chris stopped and they all gawked at the main door of Collinwood.</div> <div>      "Maybe they've seen us!"  Sabrina suggested tentatively.</div> <div>      "No, it's BEEN open for a while," Amy disagreed.</div> <div>      The front door WAS standing open. "That's weird."  Quentin popped the door open on his side of the van and hopped out.</div> <div>      "That door's been open the whole time we've been driving up here," Amy said now.  "I saw it as soon as we turned up the driveway.  The door was already opened up.  I didn't see anybody standing in it.  I kept waiting to see if someone would come.  I kept waiting for Mrs. Johnson--" She broke off, clearly distressed.</div> <div>      Chris got out from behind the steering wheel.  "You think something happened in there, Quentin?  This is, like, really spooky."</div> <div>      Quentin shuddered.  "Good God, I hope not!  We'd better look, though."</div> <div>      "Chris, be careful!"  Sabrina cried.</div> <div>      "Yeah, don't worry.  You stay here with Katie and Amy."</div> <div>      Katie, however, was already climbing out of the van.     "No," she protested.  "I want to go with you."  She reached out for and clutched Quentin's hand.  "It's so big," she whispered in awe.  "I've seen pictures before, but I never realized…"</div> <div>      "Katie, just get ready to run fast if you have to," Quentin warned her, very seriously.  Everything about the house screamed that something was wrong, and he was frightened.  "I'm not kidding, okay?  Some really strange things have happened in this house."  He led the way into the house.</div> <div>      There was an eerie stillness within the house too.  Chris and Quentin looked around uneasily, checking out the drawing room.  Katie seemed too in awe of everything to be frightened.  Wide-eyed, she looked around at the heavy pieces of furniture, the full-length antique grandfather clock-which was making the only sound in the place-and the portrait of the "original" Barnabas Collins.</div> <div>      "Hello!"  Quentin called out, moving through the foyer and down the hall to the study. There was a fire blazing in there, but it was empty.  "Elizabeth! Roger!  Carolyn!" he called, trying to control his feelings of panic.</div> <div>      Chris examined the desk.  There were papers scattered there, and an open date book.  It was leather bound. Chris picked it up and looked at it.  It was embossed on the spine of the book: RC.  Quentin spun on his heel and strode out of the room, back into the foyer.</div> <div>      Chris and Katie followed him through a doorway and down the hall. They entered the formal dining room. The table was set for eight places--and it looked like something or someone had interrupted breakfast.  Six of the chairs had been pulled far out; in fact, one was over on its side. Breakfast was still sitting on the table ready to be served: scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes. Eight juice glasses were filled and had been left untouched.  The half-melted butter was losing its log shape.   <I>Oh god, what happened here?</I>    Quentin thought.</div> <div>      He went into the kitchen.  There, too, a meal had been interrupted.  There was a single setting on the round table.  A closed book sat near the plate.  Quentin picked up the book and looked at the title.  He smiled sardonically.  "Why, Mrs. Johnson, I'm SHOCKED," he said mockingly.  His eyes betrayed how he really felt, though.  They were filled with worry and scanned the room, searching.</div> <div>      "This is really giving me bad vibes," said Chris.  "Whatever happened, it was really fast."</div> <div>      "Yes," Quentin agreed, "but what was it?  And where are they? Let's go look upstairs."</div> <div>      There seemed to be hundreds of rooms up there, but fortunately, Quentin knew who lived where.  All the rooms we were empty.  Quentin went to Julia's old room and found a doctor's bag on the bed, and several medical textbooks opened on the desk. Quentin opened several of the drawers in the desk, finding nothing.  He picked up a few notebooks, flipping through them.  He returned most of them to the desk; one he kept.</div> <div>      "What's that, Quentin?"  Katie asked.</div> <div>      "My friend Julia kept her notes in books like this.  This one's the last one she started," Quentin said absently.  Carrying the notebook, he went on to the next room.  It was very elegant and very feminine, done in soft shades of blue.  A lady's room.  "My cousin, Elizabeth," Quentin explained.  The next room obviously belonged to a man.  "Roger."</div> <div>      "Roger Collins," Chris repeated.  " Quentin, is this your cousin's?"  He held out the leather bound date book he still carried.</div> <div>      Quentin looked at it.  "Yes, it's Roger's."  He took the book from Chris and opened the book, flipping through the pages.  "They were having guests this morning-besides us."  Quentin pointed to the date.  Written there was "9: TES, EF."</div> <div>      "You know those names?" Chris asked.</div> <div>      "Well, TES--I think that's Eliot Stokes.  He's a family friend.  I don't know any EF."</div> <div>      "So something happened right around 9 this morning," Chris said.  "Like less than 3 hours ago."  The unspoken thought lay between them all:  <I>Petofi</I>.</div> <div>      Quentin didn't answer.  "Maybe they went to the Old House."</div> <div>      "What's the Old House?" Katie asked, her face pale and frightened.</div> <div>      "Where my cousin Barnabas lives," Quentin answered.  "I was just talking to him-in Boston."  He looked at Chris.  "You have to stay here-with Sabrina and Amy and Katie."</div> <div>      Katie clutched his arm.  "No!  I want to go with you!" she exclaimed.  As Quentin opened his mouth to protest, she went on:  "This is Mama we're talking about.  I have to know!"  He nodded reluctantly.</div> <div>      Turning to Chris, he said, "Stay with Sabrina and Amy until we get back.  Don't come looking for us.  If we don't come back in, oh, say, a half hour-go into town and get the sheriff."</div> <div>      "I don't think you're going to find anyone, Quentin," Chris worried.</div> <div>      Quentin hesitated. He suspected that Chris was right and he was trying very hard not to panic.  "We'll see," he said finally.  "Come on, Katie."</div> <div> The walk through the woods to the Old House would have been beautiful were it not for the sinister air about the place.  "Do you think Mama might be at that house, Dad?" Katie asked, finally breaking the silence as they arrived at the Old House.  </div> <div> "I hope," Quentin answered.  The Old House had an empty feel to it, though, he realized, his heart sinking.  "The family was driven from Collinwood before, and they came here."</div> <div> "Really?" Katie asked.  "Why?"</div> <div> Quentin didn't want to answer that.  He'd climbed the steps to the portico and was banging on the door.  "Barnabas!" he called.  "Julia!"  And then:  "Beth!"  He turned the knob and pushed the door open.  It was cold in here.  "I thought they put heat in," he muttered.</div> <div> "This place wasn't heated?" Katie asked incredulously.</div> <div> "No electricity, either," Quentin said.  He found the new switchplate just inside the door.  He flipped the switch.  "Still no lights."  Was it just that they weren't hooked up yet-or had something else happened?</div> <div> They went to the drawing room and Katie looked up at Barnabas' portrait over the fireplace.  "Who is that?" she asked.</div> <div> "Barnabas," Quentin answered in a distracted way.  No one was here.  Why?</div> <div> "It's the same man."</div> <div> Quentin realized what she'd said.  She was aware of a lot of strange things, but Quentin didn't think she could handle the idea of an almost two-hundred-year-old vampire.  "No, honey, he's a direct descendant."  He turned and went toward the stairs.  "Barnabas!  Julia!" He called again, loudly.  <I>They would have answered if they were here</I>, he thought despairingly.</div> <div> "No one is here," Katie said flatly.</div> <div> "Let's look anyway," he suggested without much hope.  They went up the stairs.  He bypassed Josette's room and went to Barnabas' room.  "They <I>were</I> here," he said.  The bed was rumpled.  Julia's cosmetics were spilled across one dresser.  Barnabas' bathrobe was laid neatly on the bed.  "Damn."</div> <div> "Mama," Katie said softly, and Quentin realized she'd gone into the next room.  He ran into the next room and stopped short.  He could smell her scent, and tears stung his eyes.  The bed was unmade in here, too.  There was a closed suitcase on the floor.  Katie held a framed picture in her hands, tears streaming down her face.  She turned and showed it to Quentin.  </div> <div> "She's really here," he said thickly, looking at the picture taken in Vienna just before Christmas in 1937.  They all looked happy-none of them knew what was ahead of them.  He felt tears roll down his face too as he looked at the picture.  Beth and Quentin, surrounded by Nora, Mary Jane, Peter, and Katie.  "Where is she?"  He put his arm around Katie.  No one was here-that was very apparent.</div> <div> As they went to the stairs, Quentin decided to check Josette's room.  "Oh!" Katie gasped.  The shutters were closed in here, but in the dimness they could both see that someone was lying on the bed.  "Mama?"  She started into the room, but Quentin reached out and grabbed her arm.  He wanted to go first.  Slowly they approached the bed.  From far away, Quentin heard Katie begin to scream.</div> <div> He felt as if he was on the other end of a telescope, far away, looking down at the body of CaraLinda.  Her throat had been cut from ear to ear, and her features were frozen in a grin of pain and terror.  Above the bed were the words: <I>You're getting warmer, my dear.</I>  Too frightened to use the phone, Quentin and Katie ran out of the Old House and almost the entire way back to Chris' van.  Quentin was afraid Katie would have a heart attack; she was wheezing and out of breath and her face looked gray.  "Are you okay?" Quentin asked as the reached the van.</div> <div> "Where's Mama?" Katie wept, even as she nodded.</div> <div> "What the hell happened?" Chris asked, jumping out of the van.</div> <div> "No, no, man, we've got to get out of here-call the sheriff," Quentin said.</div> <div> "What about the phone?"</div> <div> "Just get in and drive, man!"</div> <bR> <div>      They drove in silence to Collinsport. As they neared the sheriff's office, Quentin suddenly grabbed Chris's arm.  "Pull over a minute."  He was thinking rapidly. "We'll tell the sheriff about Collinwood-not about the Old House."</div> <div>      "Daddy!" Katie exclaimed, shocked.</div> <div>      Quentin looked back at her.  "Listen, I want them to check out Collinwood first-then go to the Old House themselves.  Technically, we were breaking and entering over there.  They'll find CaraLinda and their prime suspects will be us!"</div> <div>      "That's right-I don't know this new sheriff, do you?" Chris asked.</div> <div>      "No.  Listen, humor me-would you mind doing the talking?"</div> <div>      Chris looked at him, puzzled.  "I don't mind-but why?"</div> <div>      "I have a feeling," Quentin began.  "I don't want it known that any Collinses are back."  He thought; he needed an alias.  He didn't want to be Grant Douglas, either.  </div> <div>      "You can be Joe Baumgartner," Katie suggested.</div> <div>      "Not Baumgartner," Quentin objected.  </div> <div>      "Haskell," Chris suggested quietly as Katie and Quentin exchanged frightened looks.  Yes, it was possible Petofi knew all about the Baumgartners.</div> <div>      "Okay, sounds good," Quentin agreed immediately.</div> <div>      They pulled up in front on the sheriff's office.  Everyone got out.  Chris led the way inside.  The sheriff, a lean rangy man with a thick bristling moustache,  looked up with surprise.  "Morning.  I'm Sheriff Burns.  What can I do for your folks?"</div> <div>      "Sheriff, my name's Chris Jennings.  My family and I drove up from New York to visit some distant relatives."  Chris paused significantly.  "The Collinses."  He had the sheriff's attention.  "We drove straight there, see, and when we pulled into the driveway, we saw the door was open.  There wasn't anybody there, nor at the other house neither.  And what's really odd is that the dishes are all set out for breakfast."</div> <div>      The sheriff got up abruptly.  "Did you touch anything?" he asked.  </div> <div>      "Not much," Chris answered truthfully.</div> <div>      "Was anything else missing or disturbed?"</div> <div>      "There was a chair knocked over," Katie answered.</div> <div>      The sheriff looked at each one of them. "You didn't think to phone from there?"</div> <div>      "Hey, man, it was just so weird.  We didn't know whether the phone was working or not," said Chris.  </div> <div>      The sheriff picked up the phone and dialed out quickly.  "It's ringing," he said.  After a few moments, he hung up.  "No answer," he said.  "I'm going to take a deputy and go out and have a look.  Where will you all be?"</div> <div>      "You got an inn?" Quentin asked, finally speaking.</div> <div>      "Yes, we do.  Nicest one is two blocks from here.  Okay, I'll go have a look and then I'll come and find you at the inn, Mr.--Jennings?"</div> <div>      "Haskell," Quentin corrected.  "Another cousin."</div> <div>      "All right, Mr. Haskell.  I'll come and look for you at the inn.  Please don't take it into your head to leave town.  I'll find you."</div> <div>      "Man, what're you thinking?  We're worried about our family, is all!"  Chris protested.</div> <div>      "Funny, I've never heard anyone speak of any family out of New York," the sheriff retorted.  "Just stay at the inn and make yourselves comfortable."</div> <bR> <div>      "That guy is new," Chris said as they checked themselves into the Collinsport Inn.  "He's not from around here at all, is he?  I don't know any family named Burns.  The thing is, Quentin, someone else is bound to recognize you and me, Sabrina and Amy.  Are you sure this was such a good idea?"</div> <div>      "I just think it's better to play it this way.  I don't know how many people remember me anyway.  I wasn't here all that long.  As for you guys, maybe we ought to just stay out of sight so that the locals don't see us-at least until we figure out what's happened."</div> <div>      Quentin and Katie got a suite with two bedrooms, and the Jennings family got a room with two double beds.  Quentin suspected there was only one suite and when he saw it, his heart sank.  It was the one he'd shared with Amanda.  He didn't say anything, however.  Restlessly, he paced in the outer living area.  Once they were settled, Chris, Sabrina and Amy knocked at the door.  When she came in, Amy got an odd look on her face.  "It's revenge.  What was done was for revenge.  He hates the whole family."</div> <div>      Petofi, Quentin thought, going cold.  "Can you see him, Amy?"</div> <div>      She shook her head, shutting her eyes tightly.  "I can only hear someone thinking-mind snatcher, he's the mind snatcher!"</div> <div>      "Who's thinking, Amy?" Chris asked.</div> <div>      "I don't know who she is, but she's scared," Amy replied, crying.  As her vision abated, Quentin chewed his nails.  He wanted very badly to press Amy but he couldn't make her see something that wasn't there or know something that was beyond her understanding.  <I>It must be Beth,</I> he thought. <I>Amy knows everyone else at Collinwood.</I>  "I don't like it here," Amy whispered.</div> <div>      "Let's go get lunch," Quentin suggested.  He didn't want to, but he felt he had to get out of this room.</div> <div>       The little group went into the Inn's small dining room and sat at a table.  They were finishing their meal when Quentin looked out the window and saw Sheriff Burns's car pull up outside.  The tall sheriff and his deputy entered the lobby first and then came into the dining room and approached the table..</div> <div>      "This is my deputy, Curt Slade," Sheriff Burns said to us.  "Folks, I have to tell you that this may be a little hick town to you, but we really don't appreciate practical jokes on police around here."</div> <div>      "Sir?" Chris said, startled.</div> <div>      "I mean, I went to Collinwood because I thought maybe something had happened.  Do you know that I can charge you with making a false report?"</div> <div>      Everyone was reacting now.  "False report?" Quentin repeated, getting up.</div> <div>      "Sit down, Mr. Haskell.  You all sit still and listen to me.  We drove out to Collinwood, and there were no open doors.  That front door was shut as tight as a drum."  As the sheriff spoke, Quentin felt as if his jaw hit the floor.  "We knocked, but there was no answer."</div> <div>      "Did you try the door?  Was it locked?"  Quentin demanded.  <I>What the hell is going on?</I></div> <div>      "Now, Mr. Haskell, you calm down.  Yes, the door was locked.  No, we didn't try it.  There's such a thing as breaking and entering, did you know that, Mr. Haskell?"</div> <div>      "But--but--" Quentin was sputtering.</div> <div>      "We did have a little look-see because we were concerned there might be some OTHER signs of foul play you all might've neglected to mention.  I have to tell you, we didn't see any.  It was deserted, yes.  Nothing else was out of the ordinary."  He looked hard at first Chris and then Quentin.  "I mean NOTHING.  There are big windows there at Collinwood, as you know.  As we were walking the grounds, we could see in.  There were no dishes set out on the dining room table, nor in the kitchen.  There was no food set out." Everyone stared at each other, wide-eyed.</div> <div>      "How do you explain the fact that no one answered the door?"  Quentin asked finally, when he could speak.</div> <div>      "Well, young man, even out here in the country we do like to go out on shopping jaunts."</div> <div>      "Look, it's not like that," Quentin protested.  "We really are concerned about the family.  We're telling you the truth.  We really are worried."</div> <div>      The sheriff looked at him mildly.  "All right, young man, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.  You folks don't seem like the kind to cause trouble and you seem a little old for pulling kid pranks.  Tell me, were the Collinses expecting you?"</div> <div>      "Yes, they knew we were coming in time for lunch," Chris answered.</div> <div>      "Well, maybe they just went out shopping and got sidetracked for awhile. I'm sure someone will be back shortly."  The sheriff smiled thinly.  "Some of them DO work after all," he added dryly.  "Fact is, I can't do much of anything right now.  I have no evidence that anything is wrong beyond what you reported and we just didn't see it."  He got up.  "You plan on staying?"</div> <div>      "As of right now, we do," Chris said.</div> <div>      "Okay, if I hear of anything different, I'll let you know," said the sheriff, and then he left.  Nobody could say a word.</div> <div>      After Sheriff Burns left, Chris asked, "Well, what now?"</div> <div>      "We'll call the plant," Quentin said thoughtfully.  "Let's see if Roger is there."</div> <div>      In fact, Roger was not at the plant, a fact that had the office in a tizzy.  It was unlike him not to show up at the cannery lately, and especially not when he had appointments waiting.  His secretary tried calling Collinwood, but there was no answer.  She had no idea where he could be-he hadn't said a word about any out-of-town trips.  Quentin hung up, feeling queasy..  </div> <div>      Sabrina was exhausted and wanted to lie down.  She excused herself and went back to the room she was sharing with Chris and Amy.  The others retreated to the suite to talk about what to do next. There was still CaraLinda-Quentin didn't feel right about just leaving her where she was "Do you want to come back with me to the Old House," he said to Chris quietly.</div> <div>      "You don't have to," Amy said suddenly.  "She's gone."</div> <div>      "Where did she go?"</div> <div>      "He took her away so that the sheriff wouldn't see," Amy replied tiredly.  </div> <div>      Quentin hated to press the child; her face looked pinched and pale.  If she knew anything that could help them, though, he had to do it.  The phone rang, startling them all.  At the same time, someone knocked at the door.  Could this get any screwier?  Quentin wondered.  He went for the phone as Katie went to answer the door.  It was Sabrina, waken out of her sleep by a call from the sheriff.</div> <div>      "Hello?" Quentin said into the phone.</div> <div>      "Hello, Mr. Haskell?" Sheriff Burns said.  "I tried calling the Jennings room-"</div> <div>      "He's here, Sheriff, what's up?" Quentin asked.</div> <div>      "Do any of you know a Timothy Eliot Stokes?"</div> <div>      Quentin's mouth went dry.  He looked at Chris.  "Yes, we know him.  He's a friend of the family."  </div> <div>      Amy stood up, her face draining of all color.  "Is he dead?" she asked faintly.</div> <div>      "What about Professor Stokes?" Quentin asked now.</div> <div>      "I'll come over and explain it if that's all right," the sheriff replied.  It sounded ominous.</div> <bR> <div>      Sheriff Burns and Deputy Slade drove them in two cars to the modernized hospital in Rockport.  Quentin and Katie rode in the squad car with the officers; Chris, Sabrina, and Amy followed in the van.  No one felt safe being separated from the others.  This hospital  had the most modern trauma center in the region, Sheriff Burns explained.  That was why Professor Stokes had been brought here.  </div> <div>      "Trauma," Quentin repeated.  "What happened?  Was it a car accident?"</div> <div>      The sheriff looked stunned, as if he couldn't believe what he was about to say.  "It appears the attacker attempted to smash the Professor's head in with a hammer."</div> <div>      Katie looked horrified, and Quentin asked, "Why?  Did he say?"</div> <div>      "She, Mr. Haskell.  No-she hasn't said anything.  We had her taken to Windcliff for observation.  She was very violent and had to be restrained."</div> <div>      "Do you know who she is?" Quentin asked, with a feeling of dread.</div> <div>      The sheriff looked troubled.  "Carolyn Stoddard."</div> <div>      "Carolyn!" Quentin exclaimed, shocked.  "Carolyn wouldn't hurt anyone!"</div> <div>      "I know, Mr. Haskell-that's why I'm beginning to put a lot more stock into your story."</div> <div>      When they got to the hospital, Quentin asked for a moment alone with the Jennings' family.  He took Chris aside and told him what happened to Professor Stokes.  "Look, I think you all should stay in the waiting room," he advised and Chris agreed.</div> <div>      Quentin was not ready for what he saw in the intensive care unit.  Professor Stokes was still alive, barely, after having hours of surgery to repair the damage done to his skull and brain.  A doctor was there, talking at them, explaining, describing.  Quentin couldn't understand how Stokes could still be alive.  His skull had been cracked open, his brain exposed, bone chips driven into his brain....it was sickening, horrifying.  Everyone believed that Carolyn had committed the act.  The whole thing was unreal.</div> <div>      "From what you're saying, then, I probably won't be able to get anything out of him," the sheriff said.  "Can he understand anything that is said to him?"</div> <div>      "I can't answer that one for you, Sheriff.  I can tell you that he couldn't speak if he wanted to.  There is a tube down his throat to help him breathe right now.  As for what he might understand, I really don't know.  We're still learning about brain injuries.  I can't tell you how much damage he's suffered.  I can only tell you that he won't ever be the same person you once knew."</div> <div>      The sheriff shook his mind.  "You mind if I see him, speak to him?"</div> <div>      The doctor looked at the three of them.  "Just you, though, sheriff."  He looked at Quentin.  "Unless you're family?"</div> <div>      Quentin cleared his throat, started to speak and then stopped, thinking of how much the professor had meant to him-and he'd never realized it.  "I'm a friend, " he finally managed to answer.</div> <div>      The doctor nodded.  "He seems to have no immediate family.  There's a niece--she lives at Collinwood?"</div> <div>      "There were plans for the two children to go to Boston to prep school, " the sheriff answered.  "I don't know if Hallie Stokes and David Collins ever went.  Something seems to have happened to the family at Collinwood.  We're proceeding with an investigation on the suspicion of foul play, especially in view of what's happened here with Professor Stokes."</div> <div>      The doctor nodded.  "Come along with me."  He looked at Deputy Slade and Quentin. "I'd appreciate it if the rest of you would wait outside the room."  He took them past cubicles filled with people who lay as still as death, hooked up to machines that whistled and hissed.  "Those are the ventilators," the doctor explained.</div> <div>      The doctor took the sheriff into the cubicle which held the barely living body of Professor Stokes.  Quentin looked in and then had to look away.  He leaned against the wall, feeling sick. The Professor's eyes were swollen shut, enormous and purple.  His head seemed misshapen and there were tapes and tubes running from his nose and arms.  The big blue ventilator tube was taped to his mouth, and his hands were tied to the sides of the bed.  The machine made a whooshing and sucking noise.  </div> <div>      "Why is he tied like that?"  he asked, feeling his eyes filling with tears.  He remembered how the professor had saved him from madness and now-he was helpless.  He couldn't save Stokes now.</div> <div>      "So he doesn't try to pull the tube out if he wakes up," the doctor explained.  "It's involuntary.  The patients can't help it."</div> <div>      We could hear the sheriff speaking softly to Professor Stokes.  "Elliot?  It's Mike, Elliot.  You had yourself some surgery, but you'll be all right.  When you're feeling better, we can talk about what happened.  Do you know me, Eliot?  You helped my son with his history.  Eliot?  You rest and take care of yourself.  I'll be back."  The sheriff came out of the cubicle and brushed past us.  "Sometimes it's damn hard working in this small towns!"  He said gruffly.</div> <div>      "Would we be able to see Carolyn Stoddard?" Quentin asked.</div> <div>      Sheriff Burns looked at him.  "What for?"</div> <div>      "I don't know," Quentin answered, feeling helpless and desperate.  "Maybe she'll recognize us."</div> <div>      The sheriff studied him a moment and then said, "All right."</div> <div>      </div> <div>      Windcliff looked like a hospital for the emotionally disturbed.  It was big and imposing and very grim looking.  Amy trembled as they approached the entrance to the hospital.  "I don't think we should've brought her," Chris whispered to Quentin under his breath.  "This brings back bad memories."     </div> <div> Amy  heard.  "Maybe I can help, though, Chris, please!"</div> <div>      They went into the hospital and down into one of the wards.  A doctor came forward to greet them.  He said his name was Martin Baughmann and that he was a colleague of Dr. Hoffman's.   "We're here to see Carolyn Stoddard Hawkes."</div> <div>      "Oh?" The doctor looked at the five visitors.  "Are you family?"     "Cousins," Quentin answered uneasily.</div> <div>      "Has her condition changed?" the sheriff asked.</div> <div>      Dr. Baughmann indicated a lounge and ushered them inside. Everyone sat down.  "I wish I could understand this enough to explain it to you," he began.  "The woman is not--rational.  In fact, I would have to say that at this point, she should be considered--psychotic.  Dangerously so."</div> <div>      "Is she mentally disturbed?  Or maybe it's from drugs?"</div> <div>      "I have no idea.  We haven't been able to make any sense out of anything she's said."</div> <div>      "Would she be capable of attacking Professor Stokes?" the sheriff asked.</div> <div>      "It's difficult to say," the doctor said.  "I wouldn't have thought her  strong enough to hit the professor that hard, but I just can't be sure without further evaluation and testing."</div> <div>      Quentin cleared his throat and spoke up.  "Can I talk to her?"</div> <div>      "I don't think that would be a very good idea."  The doctor stood up.  "She is restrained.  It isn't very pleasant, but I can take you to her.  You can see her through a two-way mirror.  She won't know that you're there."</div> <div>      The doctor led them down a short hallway to a barred, locked door.  He took a ring of keys out, selected one, and opened the lock.  After they passed through the door, he placed the lock back on the door and snapped the hasp.  There was a guard and several orderlies in this area.  All the doors and windows were barred.  It was totally scary.  </div> <div>      The doctor unlocked what appeared to be a closet door  and they went into what turned out to be some kind of observation room.  A nurse was seated before a large picture window.  "Any change?" Dr. Baughmann asked.  The nurse shook her head, no.  "She's there," the doctor pointed.  It seemed as if he couldn't bring himself to go and look for himself.  His voice sounded pained.  "She can't see you," he went on.  "She won't know you're here.  You'll be able to see her and hear anything she says."</div> <div>      Quentin walked toward the window, clutching Katie's hand tightly. He hated this place even though he didn't remember much of his stay here.  He remembered how ill Carolyn had been.  He put his hand on the window and stared, shocked, speechless.  <I>My God, no!</I>  He heard Katie gasp.  The sheriff also seemed unable to say anything.     The woman in the room barely looked human anymore.  She was straightjacketed, and her face was covered with blood. "Why is she bleeding?"  Chris asked, horrified.</div> <div>      "Watch," said the nurse.  "We're going to have to tie her to the bed, Marty," she added turning toward the doctor. Suddenly, the woman in the room raced at the door.  The whole room was padded, but she hit the door with great force--head on.  "You see?  She's been using her face as a target."</div> <div>      "My God," Quentin said, his face contracting with pain.  "Carolyn!"</div> <div> "Let's do it," Dr. Baughmann said.  The nurse left the room, and suddenly there was a flurry of activity.</div> <div>      "What's happening?" Sheriff Burns asked.</div> <div>      "We're going to wrap her in wet, cold sheets and restrain her to a bed," the doctor explained.  People filled the room next door; the woman fought and screamed.</div> <div>      "How can you do that?"  Sabrina asked, appalled.</div> <div>      "Sometimes it helps to calm a person having a psychotic episode," the doctor explained.</div> <div>      The woman continued to scream and flail.</div> <div>      Sheriff Burns looked at Quentin. Quentin couldn't speak.  He was in shock, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing.  "Do you know what is she saying?  I can't understand her."</div> <div>      "No one's been able to understand her."</div> <div>      "That's because she isn't speaking English," Amy explained, moving toward the window as if in a trance.  She put her hand on the window.</div> <div>      "How do you know it's not English?" asked the sheriff sharply.</div> <div>      "You can tell-listen to her.  It's some kind of Roma language."  Everyone stared at Amy, thunderstruck.</div> <div>      "Roma?" the sheriff repeated blankly.  "What the hell is that?  And how do YOU know what it is?"</div> <div>      "It's the same language that CaraLinda knows," Amy insisted.</div> <div>      Quentin looked at Carolyn wildly.  <I>What happened to her?</I>  "Can I go in there and talk to her?  Please?  Maybe she'll know me."  He remembered the last time-he'd held Carolyn and soothed her and eventually her sanity came back.</div> <div>      "I'm sorry-we can't allow that.  Not until she's calmed down considerably."</div> <div>      Quentin hit the window with his fist, frustrated.  He hated the thought of these people wrapping Carolyn in ice cold sheets to calm her down.  <I>If they'd just let me see her</I>  <I>maybe I could help her somehow.</I>  "Where's Dr. Longworth?" he asked abruptly.</div> <div>      "He's on a temporary leave of absence."</div> <div>      Shit, Quentin thought, bitterly disappointed.  We need his help, especially with Stokes incapacitated like he is.  He closed his eyes, trying not to see that kind man lying helplessly in the hospital bed.  <I>He's dead, and Carolyn killed him…and where is everyone else?  Where is Beth?</I></div> <div>      Quentin insisted on coming back to Windcliff later to talk to Dr. Baughmann, who made an appointment.  The doctor was amenable to another meeting-any information he could get would be helpful.  </div> <bR> <div> Quentin wanted to talk to Sheriff Burns, and the two talked together in an undertone.  Then, shaking his head, the sheriff approached us, bringing Deputy Slade along.  "This gets stranger and stranger," he remarked.  The deputy held a folded piece of paper in his hand, turning it over and over nervously.</div> <div>      "Would any of you recognize Roger Collins' handwriting?" the sheriff asked.  </div> <div>      There was silence.  Then Quentin said, "We've written back and forth a couple of times.  Maybe."</div> <div>      "Show him," said the sheriff.  Deputy Slade handed the letter to Quentin, who opened it and read it.  His face paled.  Wordlessly, he turned toward Chris and held the letter out to him; he took it him and read it, his jaw dropping with shock.</div> <div>      "Is this for real?"  Quentin asked.  It was a one page, notarized statement on legal letterhead, tersely stating that Roger was turning over the business and family home to one Adam Collins for the period of time that he and his family was away.  "Who's this?"</div> <div>      "I hoped you might know," the sheriff said in a deceptively mild tone, "which is why I showed it to you.  Not a member of the family, eh?"</div> <div>      "Not that I know of."  Quentin's brows were furrowed now, and he looked intensely annoyed.</div> <div>      "Well, maybe it's some distant relative," Chris guessed.</div> <div>      Quentin glared at him.  </div> <div>      "Well, Mr.  Collins is here with his associate," Deputy Slade cut in.  "He's checked in here. He's probably around, somewhere."</div> <div>      "You want to meet this gentleman who is about to make a claim on Collinwood?" the sheriff asked.  "Perhaps he can explain where the family is.  I know I'D like to talk to him."</div> <div>      "Maybe we can meet you inside," Quentin suggested.  "Give you a chance to look the man over and size him up a little."  </div> <div>      Sheriff Burns gave Quentin an odd look.  "Whatever you say, Mr. Haskell."  He and the deputy entered the inn.</div> <div>      Chris squared off and glared back at Quentin.  "All right--WHAT?"</div> <div>      "Chances are whoever this is knows what happened.  Chances are, he might recognize me.  I'd kind of like to stay in the background if you don't mind.  I'd like for you to go in and meet him.  See what he's got to say."</div> <div>      "Oh, right, and where are you going to be?  In harm's way, too?"</div> <div>      "No, I'll be there.  I just want to be in the background.  I want him looking at you, not me.  I want to see if I recognize him.  Look, I need you to help me here, Chris."</div> <div>      "Okay," Chris agreed reluctantly.  </div> <div>      "You know," Amy said suddenly, "Roger Collins didn't sign that paper because he wanted to.  He was forced."  She looked at Quentin.  "You knew it, too, didn't you?"</div> <div>      "I suspected it," said Quentin.  "I suspected something really terrible has happened, and I don't know what it is.  I don't know how to help. "</div> <div>      When they were ready, they all went into the inn, Quentin  and Katie lagging behind. He moved off to the side, sat down, and picked up a newspaper.  Chris, Sabrina, and Amy moved forward to meet the sheriff and the deputy.  The man standing with them was dressed in a really classy, expensive suit. He was extremely tall and broad shouldered, with very thick dark black hair, sensitive brown eyes and a beard.  From where he sat, Quentin thought the man might have been in an accident once.  There were scars on his face although they were faded as if with age or by surgery.   He looked very stern, but when he saw the little group coming he smiled broadly.  It was like looking at the dark twin of Santa Claus.</div> <div>      "Mr. Collins, these are the relatives I was telling you about."</div> <div>      "It's a real pleasure to meet you," Mr.  Collins said heartily, shaking Chris's hand.  "I am sure your family will be sorry they missed you!"</div> <div>      "Yeah, well, uh, we were hoping you could tell us where they are," Chris answered, pulling his hand back and unconsciously shaking it a little.  "They left kind of sudden like."</div> <div>      Mr. Collins laughed heartily, but it sounded a little unpleasant to me.  "Perhaps it seems that way.  But were they expecting you?  I have a feeling this was a surprise visit."</div> <div>      "As was yours," the sheriff said.</div> <div>      "I am a business associate of Roger Collins as well as a distant cousin.  I have been his silent partner and advisor for years.  He asked me a favor and I agreed," Mr. Collins said simply.</div> <div>      "Well, we were just worried because the family left so suddenly," Chris said again.</div> <div>      "Mr. Jennings, it really wasn't that suddenly.  We'd been discussing this move for months."</div> <div>      "His secretary reported Mr. Collins missing.  He missed his business appointment this morning," the sheriff said.</div> <div>      "Unfortunate we didn't think to call," Mr. Collins said easily.  "You see, Sheriff, if you ask the secretary to check the appointment book, you'll see that I was that appointment.  It so happened we chose to keep it at the airport in Bangor.  He turned the keys over to me along with a number of files."</div> <div>      "Was the whole family there at the airport?" Chris asked.</div> <div>      Mr. Collins shrugged.  "I suppose so.  There were quite a number of people milling around."</div> <div>      "Where were they going?  Did they say?"  asked the sheriff.</div> <div>      Mr. Collins again laughed that hearty, unpleasant sounding laugh.  "To a family reunion, I believe.  In Ireland."</div> <div>      "IRELAND?"</div> <div>      "Why, yes indeed, Mr. Jennings.  The family has its roots in Ireland, does it not?"</div> <div>      Chris just stuttered, dumbfounded.</div> <div>      "Well," Mr. Collins said dismissively, "you really must excuse me now.  I am very tired.  I shall retire to my room for a short period of rest before having my driver take me out to Collinwood."</div> <div>      "This stinks," said the sheriff.  "You don't know that man, obviously."</div> <div>      "Never met him before in my life,"  Chris said.</div> <div>      "We'll keep in touch," said the sheriff.  "I think we need to talk, Curt."  He stopped short.  "By the way, where is Mr. Haskell?"</div> <div>      "In the lobby with Mrs. Baumgartner," Chris said quickly. The sheriff nodded and left, Curt following behind. The Jennings family joined Quentin and Katie. "Man, that guy was SPOOKY! Just touching him gave me the heebie-jeebies!"</div> <div>      "He's very old,"  Amy said.</div> <div>      "Not THAT old," Chris objected but there was something odd about Amy's tone that everyone noticed.  There was something out of the ordinary about Mr. Collins.</div> <bR> <div>      What to do now?  Quentin convinced Chris to come with him to sneak in and explore the Old House and Collinwood from the hidden passages.  Katie wanted to help, but Quentin didn't want her involved.  "I want to know where Mama is," Katie said stubbornly.  Appeasingly, Quentin said she'd be more helpful looking after the pregnant Sabrina  and a very reluctant Amy.  Amy was staging her own rebellion, insisting she couldn't use her power and help anyone if she couldn't go with Chris and Quentin.</div> <div> Chris and Quentin walked down to the shore, planning to pick their way among the beach and rocks to the caves leading to the Old House.   They didn't speak.   Both men were preoccupied with their own thoughts and concerns about Carolyn.  Quentin couldn't get Beth out of his mind.  <I>She was here, she was here.  Where is she now? </I></div> <div> "Here," Quentin finally said tersely, finding the cave.  He started inside and stopped, so many memories filling him suddenly.  His eyes filled with tears.  This was not only the place Barnabas had hidden his coffin, it was also where he and Beth had made love one hot summer's afternoon when they need had come on them and they hadn't wanted to wait to get back inside.  It was wild and wanton, and Beth had been so ashamed of herself-ladies didn't do <B>that</B>, and he'd laughed at her for it.  He wished he could take it back.</div> <div> "Quentin?" Chris said, shaking him a little.  Quentin stirred and realized he could hear a dog barking.  It was a deep, unpleasant sound and it was coming closer.  He and Chris both entered the cave and peered out from their refuge.  Adam Collins was approaching with a mastiff.  Every once in a while, he flung a piece of meat up into the air, and the beast snapped it up easily.  To Quentin's surprise though, he didn't swallow it.  He would bring the meat to Collins, who would praise dog and then allow him to scarf it down.  "Well trained animal, isn't he?" Chris said in a low tone.  Quentin shuddered.  The mastiff reminded him of some of the animals the Nazi officers handled.</div> <div> Quentin poked Chris.  He saw someone else approaching now from the other direction.  Quentin recognized him instantly.  It was Nicholas Blair, wearing a gray coat and fedora.  He strode purposefully toward Adam Collins, who reached out to shake hands.</div> <div> "He's got gloves," Chris observed, surprised.  Quentin noticed that too, wondering why.  "That other guy looks familiar."</div> <div> "He would-it's Nicholas Blair.  Maybe you saw him with Bruno or Jeb," Quentin answered softly.</div> <div> "I thought he was dead," Chris gulped.  </div> <div> "Obviously not.  He's not a man you know-he's a demon.  They keep coming back," Quentin said.  He stared at Adam Collins' gloves.  It should have been impossible for the man to hear Quentin and Chris talking but he seemed to have heard <I>something.</I>  He looked around suspiciously.  His eyes locked on Quentin's and glittered malevolently.</div> <div> Quentin reeled back immediately, pulling Chris with him.  "Shit! Shit!"  He shoved Chris further into the cave.  "Go, Chris, RUN!" he ordered harshly.  Chris didn't argue.  He ran headlong into the darkness of the cave, Quentin on his heels. </div> <div>  They'd only gone a few yards when the light totally disappeared, and Chris slowed to a halt.  "Quentin, who is he?  He knows you, doesn't he?"</div> <div> "Yes, yes, he does, but I don't know <I>how</I> because I don't know <I>him</I>," Quentin answered, distressed.</div> <div> "Oh, man, this just gets worse and worse.  What if the two of them go into town?  What if they find the women alone?" Chris fretted.</div> <div> "Calm down-I think they might know we're here.  I don't think they'll go to town," Quentin tried to reassure Chris but he didn't feel quite so sure.  "Look, this cave goes to the Old House.  We'll go there-get out, and then we'll go back to the Inn."  </div> <div> "Are you sure this goes to the Old House?" Chris asked doubtfully.</div> <div> "Yeah," Quentin answered, taking the lead.  A little further on, they came to a narrower passageway. "Listen, it's really small in there.  You're going to have to crawl now."</div> <div> "Quentin, are you sure-"</div> <div> "Yes, I'm sure!"  Quentin snapped.  "I've been here before, Chris, don't you get it?  When I was a kid-and another time.  Now just follow me."  There was a ledge and he boosted himself up and then turned to take Chris' hand.  "Remember-you have to crawl."</div> <div> "Jeez," Chris complained.  They crawled down a narrow passageway, barely wide enough to fit an adult.  Quentin found the brick wall and pushed on it.  Part of an inner wall swung in.  "Far out!" Chris exclaimed as he followed Quentin into a cold, damp room.  There was a moldy bed with an old leg iron lying on the floor.  "This is a cell?"  There was a little more light in here-from old casement windows.</div> <div> "Let's just get out of here," Quentin urged, unnerved by Adam Collins' eyes.  He pulled at Chris insistently.</div> <div> "Where is this anyway, Quentin?"  Chris asked.</div> <div>      "This is the basement of the Old House," Quentin explained.  He'd gotten the door open.  Edward had held Barnabas in here back in 1897.  Before that, as boys, Quentin and his brother Carl played around in here.  <I>How did we stand it down here?  It's awful-it's creepy,</I> he thought.  There was a slight noise nearby.  He put his arm out to stop Chris, listening.  He heard it again-it sounded like a whimper.  "Who's there?" he called.</div> <div>      The whimper came again.  "<I>Hilfe werde ich erschrocken</I>!"  The voice was low and hoarse, but Quentin's heart began to skip and bound.  The frightened woman was asking for help.</div> <div>      "What's she say?" Chris asked.</div> <div>      "<I>Wo bist du</I>?" Quentin called back, ignoring Chris.</div> <div>      There was a pause, and Quentin imagined the woman hearing his voice, recognizing him, and reacting with the same shock he felt now.  Finally:  "Ich verstecke mich im folgenden Raum!"  She was hiding in the room next door.  </div> <div> Quentin was barely aware of Chris' presence.  He went to the next door and gently eased it open.  "Beth?" he called softly.</div> <div> "Oh!"  The voice came from the corner, followed by soft weeping.</div> <div> "Beth?" Chris repeated stupidly.  "Is it her, Quentin?"</div> <div> "Beth," Quentin said again.  "Wo bist du?" he asked again.  He couldn't see her; she was still hiding.</div> <div> "Quentin?" the quavering voice came from the corner again.  Quentin made his way there and crouched down.  He reached out and touched her.  Tears were streaming down her face.  "Mein Gott, glaube ich es nicht!"  <I>My God, I can't believe it!</I>  Suddenly, he felt her arms go around his neck.</div> <div> "Oh, my God!" he breathed, gathering her to him.  "Beth, is it you?"  He couldn't believe how light she was.  She was thin and bony, he could feel her cheekbones against his face; her ribs beneath his fingers. He felt adrenaline coursing through his body, causing his heart to pound wildly.  He nearly toppled over; the room felt like it was spinning, even here in the dark.  His heart was pounding so hard now he could hear it in his ears-it was like the night he'd faced Petofi in the airless barn.  This was different, though-it wasn't evil he was afraid of.  Suddenly, he was afraid of her, afraid to touch her and even to hear her now.   He began to cry with her, unashamed.  "How did you get here?" he asked finally, hoarsely.</div> <div> "Quentin," she answered softly, touching his face. "Oh- meine Liebe, wird es so lang gewesen! Ich glaubte, daß wir nie zusammen wieder sein würden!" Oh my love, she called him, he understood that clearly, and the fact that she'd thought they'd never be together again. Then the words began to tumble out.  Quentin tried to follow what she was saying and wondered why she was speaking in German.  "Julia und Barnabas baten mich, sich hier zu verstecken. Sie sagten, daß ich in der Gefahr -- von Petofi war. Ich kann nicht mich erinnern, an wie lang ich hier gewesen bin. Eine lange Zeit, denke ich. Ich hörte laute Stimmen, eine Frau. Ich bin also erschrocken! "</div> <div> "Beth, auf Englisch bitte!"  Quentin asked her to speak in English.  He understood that Barnabas and Julia had hidden her here-something about Petofi, arguing, and a woman screaming.</div> <div> Beth clutched at his hands.  "Is hard for me,  you see? I have not thought with English for so long-"  She burst into tears.</div> <div> "Oh, God!"  Quentin had forgotten how long she'd been lost.  He pressed his lips to her hair and her neck.  "Thank God I've got you back!  Are you really all right?"</div> <div> Beth didn't answer.  She continued to cry silently, running her hands through his hair.  </div> <div> "Uh-" Chris finally said, uncomfortably.  "We should split, Quentin."</div> <div> "Yes, yes," Quentin agreed.  "Beth, can you walk?"  When she didn't answer, he told her "<I>Wir müssen jetzt gehen</I>!"</div> <div> Beth nodded and let Quentin help her stand up.  He put his arm around her.  Her shoulders felt bony and frail.  They left the room and started up the stairs.  They were about half way up when the front door opened and slammed shut.  Beth froze immediately, and Quentin felt the hairs on his neck prickle and stand up on end.  "No," Beth whimpered.</div> <div> "Back, back!" Quentin exclaimed, turning on the stairs.  Chris took the lead, running back the way they'd come, with Quentin following closely behind, pulling Beth along with him.  They went back into the small cell, and Chris hoisted himself up into the small crawlspace.  Beth stopped short, but Quentin said urgently, "Go, go, go, Beth!"  He lifted her up, feeling Chris grab her by the arms and pull.  Beth gasped just once but disappeared into the crawlspace.  Quentin felt the stones scraping his hands and knees as he crawled through.  Finally they were in the main corridor, jumping down from the narrow passageway.</div> <div>      At the mouth of the cave, they exited cautiously, keeping down, looking around. They couldn't hear anyone behind them. Quentin raised his head up cautiously.  Then he motioned to Chris. "Come on, come on, " he urged. He still hadn't gotten a good look at Beth, but they had to get out of there-fast.  They started up the path and found it blocked by Mr. Collins.</div> <div> He grinned broadly and unpleasantly, like a shark.   "Guests," he said softly.  "But why didn't you come to the front door-like a normal guest would?"</div> <div> Beth ducked behind Quentin, burying her face into his shoulder.  He could feel her fists against his back.  She began trembling violently.  "We're family," Quentin finally managed to say hoarsely.  "We were just out for a walk."  Beside him, he saw Chris' head going up and down in agreement.</div> <div> The other man's smile didn't waver.  "Family?  I thought you all went to Ireland."  He noticed Chris.  "I remember you-with the sheriff."  His eyes went back to Quentin's.  "Just who are you?"</div> <div> "We're cousins-from New York," Quentin answered cautiously.  "We didn't know the family was going out of the country."</div> <div> "Some surprise, eh?"  The man was huge, a good three or four inches taller than Quentin was.  "Adam Collins.  And you are--?"  He stuck his hand out.</div> <div> Quentin took it, tentatively.  "Joe Haskell."  There was no change in Collins' expression as they shook hands; however, Adam Collins continued to hold Quentin's hand a moment too long.  Quentin pulled away gently and indicated Chris.  "My cousin, Chris Jennings."</div> <div> Adam Collins turned and shook hands with Chris politely and briefly.  He made as if to peer behind Quentin.</div> <div> "My wife, Beth," Quentin said.  "She isn't feeling well."</div> <div> "So I see," Adam Collins answered.  He almost seemed amused, although he had an expression of concern on his face.  "Would you like to come back to the house with me?  Call a doctor, perhaps?"</div> <div> "No, thank you," Quentin answered quickly.  "Our car is parked nearby.  We'll just go back to the Inn."</div> <div> "Ah.  You're staying in town?  But if you are relatives, you should come to Collinwood," Adam Collins said, grinning again.  This time, Quentin thought he looked like a wolf and felt chilled.  He began to protest but the strange new cousin cut him off.  "Please.  I insist.  At least come for dinner. "  His eyes hardened a little.  "You will, won't you?"</div> <div> <I>We'll never find out what happened to everyone otherwise</I>, Quentin thought.  He glanced over at Chris, who nodded slightly.  "All right," Quentin agreed.  "Tonight isn't good, though, we have plans," he added hastily, thinking that finding Beth was a shock everyone would have to absorb.</div> <div> "When then, if not tonight?" Adam Collins asked, his eyes boring into Quentin's with a burning intensity that scared him.</div> <div> "Tomorrow," Quentin answered impulsively and could have kicked himself.  He had a feeling this was a very bad idea, very bad.  <I>I'll deal with it later-the important thing now is to get away with Beth. . </I>He excused himself hurriedly, putting his arm around Beth and leading her away quickly. Chris was right on his heels. He could feel the eyes of Adam Collins boring into his back every step of the way and found that he was soaked with sweat by the time they got back to the van.</div> <div>  "Let's get outta here!" Quentin exclaimed, climbing into the back of the van, leading Beth by the hand.</div> <div> "You know it, man," Chris agreed. He started the van and floored it.</div> <div> Even now, Quentin thought he could feel Collins' eyes on him. He shuddered--and then remembered Beth. He turned toward her. Back in the basement of the Old House, everything had happened so fast. Now he turned toward her, feeling overwhelmed. He reached for her--and she backed away and whimpered in fear. Of all the possible reunions he'd acted out in his head, this had never occurred to him. He sat back, stunned, as Beth began to cry. He reached out for her again, tentatively. "It's all right, Beth," he said soothingly, but it wasn't all right at all.</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div>       <A HREF="id130.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="21: The Approaching Storm"><U>21:  The Approaching Storm</U></A>    <A HREF="id132.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="23: Reunion in Hell"><U>23:  Reunion in Hell</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <I>.</I></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <I>.</I></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>