Legacy Of Terror

personal comment since he had begun to relate the tale. “It was as if she were being stabbed right then, in the hospital.”
    Dr. Carter had not been unduly disturbed by her sudden, violent reaction. He merely said, “Stop screaming, Celia.”
    And she stopped.
    He said, “No one will hurt you. No one will ever hurt you, because you are too pretty and too charming. Do you believe that anyone would ever hurt you?”
    “No,” she said. But she said it reluctantly.
    “It is now Wednesday morning.”
    “Wednesday,” she repeated.
    “Where are you?”
    “The hospital.”
    “Watch the clock. The hands are moving forward. Do you see how they're moving forward now?”
    “Yes.”
    “It is Thursday morning now, isn't it, Celia?”
    She said that it was.
    At that point, Carter had turned to Gordon. “I'll have to wake her now and try again tomorrow. Would you please leave? She might be harder to control in subsequent sessions if she knows she's being observed.”
    “And I left,” Gordon said. “I was quite shaken.”
    “I imagine so,” Elaine said as the story slowly impressed upon her how eerie the scene must have actually been.
    “At first,” Gordon said, “I considered going back to watch the other sessions, until he was finished with her. I'm sure Carter would have let me. But when I heard her scream and saw the look on her face towards the end of the session, I knew that I didn't want to be there when she finally relived the attack. That would be too much.”
    For a moment, they were both quiet, and Elaine said at last: “Gordon, do you believe this hitchhiker theory?”
    “What other theory is there?”
    “I don't want to make you angry at me,” she said.
    He leaned forward. “You couldn't do that. What is on your mind, Elaine?”
    She hesitated only a moment, then told him everything.
    He listened closely, and when she was finished, he said, “Come on. We have to let father know about this.”
    He led her into the den and had her repeat what she had told him. Lee Matherly listened, amused at first, then more and more concerned until, when she finished, he looked deeply disturbed.
    “And you never got a look at the person and haven't any idea who it was?”
    “No,” she said. She did not want to go into detail about her suspicions of nearly everyone. There would be time for that when Captain Rand was here.
    “I'll have to talk to father,” Lee said. “Will you wait here a few minutes?” He stood up, not waiting for a reply, and left the room.
    “You must have been terrified,” Gordon said. He took her hand, and she felt his strength enclose her fingers, felt that protected aura again.
    She nodded agreement.
    “Don't worry,” he said. “Father will take care of this. It looks, now, like it will all be settled this evening.” He sounded grim. He had realized, just as his father must have, that her story was a strong indication that the killer was a member of the family. “It will all be settled shortly,” he repeated. “I'm certain.”
    “I hope so,” Elaine said. The dark, paneled walls seemed terribly close, the air thick and unbreathable.
    They waited for Lee Matherly to return.

Chapter 15
    When he returned, Lee Matherly had regained some of his cheerfulness. He sat on the edge of his desk, directly before Elaine and said, “Well, Elaine, father admits having told you that story about nearly being murdered last night. But he says, when he buzzed for you, he was so terrified that he wasn't able to think clearly. He says, now, in retrospect, he knows he was dreaming. But when he woke, having an attack, he was confused about what was real and what wasn't.”
    Elaine shook her head negatively. “The bulb had been taken out of his nightlight.”
    “I'm sure there's a logical explanation for that,” Lee said. “It's just coincidentally pertinent to his nightmare. And father is certain it was only a dream.”
    “Was I dreaming too?” she asked. She was beginning to get angry. None of these people wanted to face up to reality, to truth. They were so eager to accept the theory of the hitchhiker that they would bend over backwards to misinterpret any clue that pointed to their own number.
    “It's possible,” he said. “You had gotten little sleep in the past days. And you had the frightening experience of listening to father recount his nightmare as if it were truth. You can see how-”
    “What about the cat?” she asked, figuring she had already lost that point.
    “What about it?”
    “Who stabbed it and put it in the garbage bag?”
    “I can't tell