The Legend of Darklore Manor and Other Tales of Terror Read Online Free Page B

with diabetes, her father's lawn care business isn't doing so well… now this." Denise glanced worriedly back into the house. She cleared her throat. She looked strained and tired. "Detective, do you think a person is responsible for what happened? I mean, what kind of person could do something like this to another human being?"
     "A very sick person," he answered solemnly.
     "Beth is afraid to go to sleep. She's afraid that her nightmares will come to life."
     "Mrs. Davis, Mr. Stitch is just a story. He's not real."
     "Well, my daughter's injuries are very real." She tried to keep the anger from her voice. She shook her head. "You know, as bad as I feel for what happened to Beth, I feel even worse for poor Angela. She's had a terrible year. First that terrible uncle of hers dies, now this."
     "Did you know her uncle?" Vaughn asked.
     "I knew that I didn't care for him."
     "Why?"
     "It wasn't just the drugs. He just seemed… evil. He would get a little too friendly with Beth when she went over there. It made her uncomfortable. And sometimes he would look at Angela like…." She lowered her eyes as if embarrassed. "I don't know if he ever touched her. But he seemed like the type."
     Vaughn said nothing.
     Denise looked off at the swaying trees as the sun slipped behind a cloud. "I know it sounds silly, I know he's dead, but I get the feeling that he's responsible for this."
     The following evening, as Vaughn sat and blankly stared at the mess of files on his desk, the medical reports, the stacks of crime scene photos, and the coroner's report on Angela's uncle, he came to agree with Mrs. Davis.
     Angela was still in the hospital, but the bandages had been removed from her eyes. Her scarred and torn eyelids looked pitiful, and her eyes were bloodshot, with angry scratches on her corneas and irises. She sat by the window contemplating the night.
     "Angela," Vaughn said. "How are you feeling?"
     "Okay. They'll let me go home tomorrow." She tried to smile. "It's hard for me to see, but I'm getting bored just lying in bed. I don't want to fall asleep. I don't want the nightmares to return."
     Vaughn sat on the edge of her bed. He said nothing for a while. "Beth isn't very good at keeping secrets, is she?" he finally said. "The secret about Carrie and Kevin, for instance. That probably had you worried. Worried that her tongue would get even looser and she'd start to reveal other secrets."
     "What are you talking about?"
     "Your uncle. His death. It was ruled an accidental overdose, but even the coroner wondered in his notes why there were traces of insulin in the needle. The insulin sent him into shock, then into cardiac arrest. Your uncle had such a colorful drug history that the strange mixture was written off as just another example of his reckless experimentation. But we know what it really was, don't we?"
     Angela stared at him. Her expression was unreadable.
     "How long had he been molesting you, Angela?"
     "I don't want to talk about my uncle."
     "Beth's younger brother has diabetes. You got her to steal some of his insulin. You mixed it with your uncle's morphine. And when he died, you swore her to secrecy."
     "I don't know what you're talking about."
     Vaughn removed the police evidence bag from his overcoat pocket and set it down on the bed beside him. Angela's injured eyes welled with tears when she saw the sewing needle and thread inside.
     "Angela," Vaughn said, "we have to talk about what really happened that night."
     "I told you what happened. It was Mr. Stitch."
     "No it wasn't," Vaughn said softly, "He's not real. He's just a story that you made up to keep Beth quiet. He doesn't exist."
     "Yes he does," Angela insisted, "I saw him!"
     "Where did you see him?"
     "In Carrie's house. He