Dave is guilty again

“Rachel? Rachel?”

Leaning against the banister, Erica bounded down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

What is Rachel’s problem? she thought angrily as she pushed the storm door open with both hands and raced outside.

She knows she isn’t allowed out without someone to watch her. Why is she so odd today?

“Rachel? Rachel?”

Swirling winds made the fat brown leaves dance across the front yard. The sky was nearly as dark as night.

“Rachel? Are you out here?”

Across the street, Erica could see Luke’s car parked in Melissa’s driveway. She felt the pain in her side again and shivered, chilled by the cold, swirling winds.

“Rachel? It’s going to storm!”

Where is she? Am I going to have to call the police?

No.

Rachel poked her head out from behind the gnarled trunk of a wide, old maple tree. “Hi, Erica.” She stepped away from the tree, a pleased smile on her face.

“Rachel!” Erica shrieked angrily, her heart pounding in her chest. “What are you doing out here?”

Rachel came toward Erica, walking slowly, steadily, her long hair fluttering in the wind behind her like a copper-colored sail. “Did I scare you, Erica?” she asked, her grin widening.

“Huh?” Erica stared at her sister, startled.

“Did I scare you?” Rachel repeated, her green eyes sparkling with gleeful excitement. “Did I really scare you?”

Erica stared back at her sister, dread forming in the pit of her stomach. She shivered. From the cold? Or from the evil glee on Rachel’s face?

“Did I scare you, Erica?”

What goes on in that mind of yours, Rachel, Erica wondered.

Erica put her arm around her sister’s shoulders and gently guided her back into the house. As they entered the hallway, Rachel started to laugh. A dark, chilling laugh.

What do you know, Rachel? Erica wondered, staring intently at her sister. Do you know a lot more than you let on?

♦ ♦ ♦

“Here, look at this,” Melissa said. “Just read it.” She pushed the card at Luke with a trembling hand.

It was Monday afternoon after school. Melissa had been home only long enough to open the new valentine and read it before Luke pulled into the drive.

Now, his coat still on, his red and white wool muffler still wrapped around his neck, he gazed at the card she had given him, waiting for his eyes to focus on the handwritten message.

Flowers mean funerals

Flowers mean death.

On Valentine’s Day

You’ll take your last breath.

He stared at the card, crinkling his eyes thoughtfully as if studying each word. Then he handed it back to Melissa, his expression one of concern. “You’re upset?”

“I’m scared,” she said flatly.

He started to unwrap the muffler. “It’s probably a joke.”

“It wasn’t a joke for Josie,” Melissa shot back.

He tossed the coat and muffler onto the banister and tugged at the bottom of his sweater. She led him into the kitchen. “Want some hot chocolate?” she asked, biting her lower lip. She reached for the tea kettle.

“Maybe you should call the police,” he suggested, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black jeans.

“Maybe,” Melissa replied, filling the kettle.

“Did you show the cards to your parents?” Luke asked, stepping up to the sink beside her.

Melissa nodded. “They think it’s just a joke. A really sick joke. Mom reminded me to keep the doors locked at all times, and to call the police at the slightest sound.”

She put the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner. Then she turned to him, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him. “Happy Birthday,” she said when the kiss had ended. She licked her lips.

“It isn’t my birthday,” Luke replied.

She chuckled. “So?”

He suddenly became very serious. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Hey, I just got an idea.”

The kettle started to rumble quietly.

“What kind of idea?” Melissa demanded.

“About the valentines,” Luke said, carefully replacing his glasses. “Dave sent the ones last year, right? The ones to Josie.”

“Yeah. Of course,” Melissa replied impatiently.

“Well, do you think he’s sending these cards to you?”

“Huh?” Melissa’s mouth dropped open. She pulled at a strand of black hair. “Dave? Why?”

“I don’t know why,” Luke said patiently. “I just wonder if he’s the one sending the cards. They sound just like the ones Josie got last year.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Melissa said. The kettle started to whistle. She grabbed the handle and lifted the kettle off the burner. “So what’s your idea?” She pulled two white mugs down from the cabinet.

“You said you got a letter from Dave this week. Do you still have it?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Melissa said, trying to remember where she put it. Her eyes lit up and she turned her gaze on him. “I get it! We compare the handwriting in Dave’s letter to the handwriting on the valentines.”

“Yeah, you’ve got it,” Luke said.

“I think I left his letter on my desk,” she said. She tossed two hot chocolate packets onto the counter. “Here, you make the drinks. I’ll go get the letter and the cards.”

She hurried out of the room.

It can’t be Dave, she thought. No way.

Why would Dave send such hateful cards to me?

It can’t be Dave.

She had begun scrambling through the papers on her desk, searching for Dave’s letter, when the phone rang. Annoyed by the interruption, she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hello, Melissa?”

A woman’s voice. Familiar, but Melissa didn’t recognize it.

“Melissa, it’s Marsha Kinley. Up in Portstown.” Dave’s mom?

Why was Dave’s mom calling Melissa? And why did she sound so upset?

“How are you, Mrs. Kinley?”

“Okay, Melissa. Have you seen Dave?” Mrs. Kinley asked, speaking breathlessly.

“Dave? Huh? No.” Melissa’s voice revealed her confusion. “Isn’t Dave—?”

“He ran away,” Mrs. Kinley interrupted. “From his boarding school. Last night. You haven’t seen him?”

“No,” Melissa told her. “Why would he come here?”

There was a short pause. The line crackled with static. “He’s been talking about you lately, Melissa. A lot. I’m really worried. I don’t know why he’s run away. I hope he isn’t going to get himself in more trouble.”

Melissa suddenly realized she was gripping the receiver so hard that her hand ached. She forced herself to loosen her hold.

“And you really think he’s coming to Shadyside?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Kinley replied, her voice tight with worry. “But please, call me if you see him, okay? Or if you hear from him. Or anything. Call me right away. Okay, Melissa?”

Melissa agreed and hung up.

She tugged at a strand of her hair, winding it and unwinding it around her finger. Mrs. Kinley’s frightened voice remained in her ears.

“I hope he isn’t going to get himself in more trouble,” she had said, sounding so worried, so upset.

I hope so too, Melissa thought.

Remembering why she was up in her room, she began searching her desk again. She found Dave’s letter in the top drawer and hurried downstairs with it.

“That was Dave’s mom. On the phone,” she told a startled Luke. “She said Dave ran away from school and he might be coming here. She didn’t know. She sounded really freaked.”

Luke shoved the hot chocolate mugs out of the way. Melissa plopped the two valentines down on the counter. Huddled together, the two of them studied the handwriting, moving from the cards to the letter, then back again.

“No doubt about it,” Melissa said, gazing at Luke, her eyes widening in horror. “The handwriting is the same. Dave sent the valentines.”

Luke stared down at the ugly messages on the cards. “It’s the same handwriting okay,” he muttered thoughtfully.

“And now Dave is coming here,” Melissa said in a voice choked with horror. “He sent these cards to me. And now he’s coming here. To make his threats come true.”

Дата добавления: 2015-07-20