Legacy Of Terror

could offer and with all the fringe benefits that befell their employees, the Matherlys could find another nurse in a day or two, three at the most. But Elaine could not bring herself to abandon a patient for even that short a period of time. She believed Jacob needed her and that the height of selfishness would be to leave him alone when his angina might bother him again at any moment. She must also consider, she knew, what quitting the job would mean in terms of her self-respect. She had never run away from anything. She had never allowed herself to be consumed with fear of anything. If she did not hold on now, if she ran, she would never again be able to think of herself as the sensible, intelligent, sober young woman she had always liked to believe she was.
    And there was Gordon.
    In high school and later in nurses training, no one had ever shown much interest in her. Oh, now and then, boys would talk to her and ask her for a date. But none of them ever dated her twice. And word always seemed to get around that she was “too serious” or “cold.” She had never liked to do the things that most young people liked to do. Games bored her. All but the best and most thought-provoking films seemed a waste of time to her. She did not like to drink, not even a cocktail now and then, and she found no particular interest in dancing. She could understand why so many young people were frivolous, of course. They had been raised by loving parents, and they had never had a glimpse of how cold the world could be. She had gotten that glimpse-and many others-early in life, and she knew that one had to be sober, had to be serious, had to work to keep oneself from sliding to disaster in a world where pitfalls were everywhere prevalent. Educate yourself, spend your time wisely, always be prepared to do battle with life: that had been her code since she was a child. And because of it, there had been no romantic interest in her life to date.
    Until Gordon.
    Gordon was so much like she was, so aware of the cruelty of life and so anxious to work to avoid it, that she could not help being attracted to him. She thought that he was, likewise, attracted to her. She hoped so. Oh, God please let him be!
    The rest of her reasons for having to remain on the job were sound, logical ones. This one was emotional. And having never been possessed of such an emotion before, she let this one carry her away more completely than she would ever have admitted was possible. She would not yet say she loved him. It was too soon for that. She did not know him well enough. But strong, very strong affection, yes…
    So, if she were to stay, if she were to start to build her life at this time and place, she would have to give some thought to the identity of the killer who prowled the Matherly house. When she told Captain Rand of her experience this past night, she would want to be able to clearly answer any questions he might ask and give him her own projections if he should want them.
    Ghosts?
    That was silly. Perhaps the knife had disappeared. And perhaps the voice of a child had cried out at night, all over the house, in a ghostly fashion. There would be rational reasons for these two events.
    Her visit with Jerry and Bess had not been a total loss, however. She had learned that the police had once suspected old Jacob Matherly of the Christmas Eve murders, no matter how briefly, and she knew that she would now have to include him in any list of suspects she might devise-no matter how ludicrous his inclusion might seem.
    Jacob Matherly. Though she was sure that the old man was not capable of any such outrage as the attack on Celia Tamlin, and certainly incapable of the atrocities that had occurred in this house fifteen years earlier, she had to admit that he had the opportunity, perhaps a better opportunity than anyone else. After her evening checkup, he was not bothered until the morning, unless one of the family spent time with him. The night of Celia's misfortunes, he had remained in his room until she, Elaine, had come to check on him. Or so he said. He might easily have been outside the house and could have returned, with little trouble, while the rest of them were running to see what had happened. He was protected by his semi-invalid status, and the police showed little or no interest in him.
    Dennis Matherly. Supposedly, he had been in the kitchen, drinking a glass of milk, alone, when he heard Celia scream. That would explain, of course, why he had come