Chapter 17 Fear

A fter dinner the next night, Corky waited for Debra at Alma’s, the small coffee shop where she and Chip had talked to Sarah Beth Plummer. The restaurant was bustling now, the booths and long counter filled with college students, laughing and talking, their voices competing with the clatter of silverware and china and the saxophones of a salsa band pouring out from the jukebox.

Debra came hurrying in, ten minutes late, her cheeks flushed from the cold. She was wearing several layers of sweaters over blue corduroys. Her eyes swept over the crowded restaurant until she located Corky in the next-to-last booth.

After making her way past a white-uniformed waitress holding a tray of glasses over her head, Debra slid into the booth across from Corky and sighed. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No problem,” Corky told her, her hands encircling a white mug of hot chocolate. “Where’s Kimmy?”

“She’s sick,” Debra announced. “Her mom says she has a temperature and everything. That’s why she wasn’t in school today.”

Corky’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Sick? Will she be okay for the game tomorrow night?”

Debra shrugged. “I hope so.”

The waitress appeared, pad in hand, and stared down impatiently at Debra. “You need a menu?”

Debra shook her head. “Just a Coke, please.”

“Sarah Beth Plummer lives right across the street,” Corky said after the waitress left. “She pointed out the house to Chip and me that night—we sat over there.” She indicated the rear booth. “And she told us about Sarah Fear.”

Debra glanced at the booth Corky had pointed to. It was now occupied by four girls having hamburgers and french fries. “You think this Sarah Beth will be helpful?”

Corky sipped her hot chocolate. She made a face. It tasted powdery. It hadn’t been stirred enough. “I just had the feeling that night that Sarah Beth knew a lot more than she was telling us. There was something suspicious about her, you know. Something devious.”

Debra’s Coke arrived. She picked up the straw and blew the paper covering at Corky. “This Sarah Beth Plummer. Is she old?”

Corky shook her head. She brushed a strand of blond hair from her eyes. “No. She’s young—early twenties, I think.”

“What makes you think she’ll talk to us?” Debra asked.

“I don’t know,” Corky replied. “But I think we have to try to talk to her. I mean, I saw her dancing over Sarah Fear’s grave with Jon Daly. And now Jon has disappeared.”

“Do you think Sarah Beth knows where the evil spirit is?” Debra asked, sipping the Coke.

“I intend to ask her,” Corky replied and sighed. “This is a crazy conversation, isn’t it? If anyone overheard us, they’d think we were nuts.”

“But we’re not nuts,” Debra said quickly, gesturing with both hands, accidentally bumping her glass and spilling a small puddle of Coke onto the tabletop. “The evil is real. We know that.”

“I know,” Corky agreed quietly.

“Let’s go see what Sarah Beth Plummer knows,” Debra said.

Both girls slid out of the booth and, after paying, hurried out of the restaurant.

There was no name over the doorbell, but Corky remembered the house. It was a narrow two-story semidetached redbrick structure, part of a row of small houses, most of them occupied by students from the nearby community college.

The two girls hesitated on the small concrete front stoop, staring at the curtained window beside the door. Corky raised her finger to the doorbell, then lowered it.

“What’s the matter?” Debra asked in a loud whisper.

A car rolled by quickly, its headlights sending a wash of white light over them, fixing them in a bright spot.

“I just keep picturing Sarah Beth dancing in the cemetery,” Corky replied. “With Jon leaning over Sarah Fear’s grave.” She gripped the sleeve of Debra’s sweater. “She could be dangerous, Debra. I mean— she could be possessed by the evil.” Corky shuddered. “We could be walking in to our death.”

“We have to find out,” Debra said in a tense whisper. “We’ve got to know the truth.” Taking a deep breath, she reached forward and pressed the doorbell, leaving her finger on it for a long time.

They could hear the buzzer inside the house. A light went on. They heard soft footsteps; then the door was pulled open.

Sarah Beth Plummer poked her head out. She had a bath towel wrapped around her hair. She must have just washed it, Corky realized.

Sarah Beth’s eyes fell on Debra first. Then she recognized Corky. “Oh, hi.” Her expression was a mixture of surprise and confusion.

“Hi. Remember me?” Corky asked meekly.

“Yes. You’re … Corky,” Sarah Beth said after some hesitation.

“This is my friend, Debra Kern,” Corky said.

“Come in, come in,” Sarah Beth said, shivering. “It’s freezing out, and I just shampooed my hair.”

The two girls followed her into a small living room filled with antique furniture. Corky carefully closed the front door behind her. The room was hot and smelled of oranges. Two old oversize armchairs and a large plum-colored couch nearly filled the space. A low coffee table in front of the couch was stacked high with books, papers, and files. The walls were lined with crowded bookshelves that reached nearly to the ceiling.

Sarah Beth rewrapped the towel on her head, staring at the two girls. She was wearing an oversize man’s white shirt over black leggings and woolly white tube socks.

“Can we talk with you?” Corky asked awkwardly. “I mean, is this a bad time or anything?”

“No. I guess not,” Sarah Beth replied, her expression still confused. “I was just making some coffee. Would you care for some?”

“No, thanks,” Debra answered quickly.

“Take off your coat,” Sarah Beth told Corky. “You can just toss it over there.” She pointed to one of the armchairs.

“I thought … well … maybe you could tell us more about Sarah Fear,” Corky stammered, obediently tossing her coat onto the back of one of the big chairs.

Sarah Beth’s mouth formed an O of surprise.

“If it isn’t too much trouble,” Corky added.

“Sarah Fear?” Sarah Beth said, eyeing both girls thoughtfully. “Well …”

“It would really mean a lot to us,” Debra said. “Anything you know about her.”

“Okay,” Sarah Beth reluctantly agreed. “I mean, I don’t know that much. But sit down.” She gestured to the couch. “I’ll just go turn off the stove. Then we can talk. I’ll tell you what little I know.”

“Thanks a lot,” Corky replied gratefully. “I know we’re barging in—”

“No problem,” Sarah Beth said, waving to them to sit. She hurried to the kitchen.

“She has such an old lady’s voice,” Debra whispered.

“Yeah. I know,” Corky whispered back. “She looked surprised to see us—but not that surprised,” she added, her eyes on the doorway to the kitchen.

“She didn’t even ask us why we want to know about Sarah Fear,” Debra whispered.

Debra edged past the armchairs and sat down on the edge of couch, sinking into the plush cushion.

Corky tried to make her way to the other side of the couch. But she accidentally bumped the coffee table with her leg, sending a tall stack of files toppling to the carpet.

“Nice move, ace,” Debra joked. She tried to get up to help Corky pick up the files, but the low, soft cushion made it difficult for her to stand.

Corky dropped to her knees and began hurriedly to pile the manila files back on the table. A bunch of envelopes fell out of one of the folders.

She scooped them up and started to replace them—and then stopped. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Debra, look!” she gasped.

“What is it?” Debra asked.

“These envelopes …” Corky said, her voice trembling. “They’re all addressed to Sarah Fear!”

Дата добавления: 2015-07-20