Something Wicked by Lisa Jackson Read Free Book Online Page B

She would have to see them after her visit with Catherine.
    Keeping her Escape aimed toward the access road that turned off Highway 101 and led to the long Siren Song drive, Savannah stared through the rhythmically slapping window wipers to the darkness beyond. By the time she had angled the Ford onto the rutted lane that led to the lodge, the bumpy drive was filled with overflowing mud puddles and it was almost seven thirty. She parked in front of the wrought-iron gate, letting her headlights wash the enormous shingled building. A few minutes later she cut the engine.
    She didn’t have to wait long. Catherine herself appeared in a dark, hooded cloak, walking carefully toward the gate that secured the property, carrying a flashlight and a sturdy black umbrella, apparently in case the hood failed. She unlocked the gate as Savannah climbed from her car. “Park over there,” Catherine ordered, motioning to a wet grassy section, so Savannah got back behind the wheel, nosed the SUV around, and parked where Catherine had indicated. She gingerly skirted the puddles; and once inside the gate, which Catherine pulled shut with a high, keening wail of protest from its rusted hinges, she waited while Catherine relocked it; and they walked together beneath her umbrella to the front door.
    Inside the lodge, Savannah let her eyes sweep over the heavy, overstuffed furniture and the Tiffany lamps with their soft light. To her surprise, there was an old, bubble-eyed console television in one corner of the room. Old technology at best, but still unexpected, given Catherine’s obsession with keeping the current world outside of her gates.
    Inside the large stone fireplace the fire had burned down to glowing embers, the red logs about to break apart. Heavy shades were drawn across the windows, and two young women were in the room, one standing by the hearth and staring at Savannah through sharp eyes, her blond hair several shades darker than that of the one in the wheelchair, whose hands were folded in her lap, her expression eager and expectant.
    â€œRavinia, Lillibeth.” Catherine waved them away.
    â€œWho are you?” the standing girl asked Savannah.
    â€œI told you both to wait in your rooms,” Catherine said crisply. “Lillibeth?”
    Sighing, the girl in the wheelchair turned her chair around and headed toward a back door.
    The dark blond girl stood her ground and repeated, “Who are you?”
    â€œI’m Detective—”
    â€œRavinia.” Catherine’s tone was fierce.
    â€œYou never have people here this late,” she retorted, flipping her long hair over her shoulder with one hand in a gesture of disdain. “Tell me why. I have a right to know. We all have a right to know.”
    â€œI’ll tell you about this later. For now, I need to speak to Detective Dunbar alone.”
    There was a moment when Savannah thought Ravinia was going to challenge Catherine some more. Her lips tightened rebelliously. Seeing it, Catherine added, “Isadora, Cassandra, and Ophelia are upstairs, and Lillibeth’s gone to her room. Go on now.”
    Ravinia’s eyes, a dark blue, flashed fire, but she turned and headed to the stairs. She hesitated on the bottom step, her hand on the heavy oak newel post, and said through tight teeth, “I’m not like them.” Then she gathered her long skirts and bolted up the stairway to a second-floor gallery. From where she stood, Savannah could see Ravinia run along the hallway, until she finally turned a corner and disappeared.
    Catherine sighed. “Ravinia’s the youngest.”
    â€œThe youngest of how many?” Savannah asked.
    Catherine acted like she didn’t hear her as she said, “Let’s go to the kitchen.”
    Savannah followed after her to the east side of the lodge and a large room with an impressive oak plank trestle table big enough to seat twelve. Catherine indicated for her to take a chair at the