by R. L. Stine
“That wasn’t Rory?” Reva asked.
“No, it was my mother,” Grace lied. “She called while I was on the other line.”
Reva raised an eyebrow skeptically.
Grace stood up and walked to the dresser. “I made the big mistake of telling her about Traci. She got all upset and thought I should come home.” She peered into the mirror and flicked her fingers through her hair. “You know what mothers are like,” she added with a sigh.
“Not really.” Reva lowered her eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Grace cried. “Your mother is dead—I almost forgot. It was stupid of me to say that.” She peered at Reva in the mirror. “Anyway, I’m glad your father didn’t cancel the scarf show.”
Reva gave her a satisfied smile. “Not as glad as I am. I’m sorry Traci is dead, but that show is really important to me. It would have been dumb to cancel it when I can get another model just like that” She snapped her fingers. “Besides, the show must go on—right?”
“Definitely.” Grace picked up a bottle of foundation makeup and shook it. “Listen, want to go out and do something together tonight? I think this stuff will cover the bruise around my eye so I won’t look like a raccoon.”
“No. I have a date tonight.” Reva checked her watch. “That’s what I came to tell you. I have to leave in a few minutes. Daddy’s going to drop me off on his way to his dinner meeting.”
“That’s okay.” Grace set the makeup down. Her hand still trembled from Rory’s phone call. “Actually, I’m still feeling kind of beat. I think I’ll stay here and just take it easy.”
“Whatever.” Reva smoothed her hair and strode to the door. “Catch you later.”
“Sure. Have fun.”
“Oh, I will,” Reva assured her with a grin. “I definitely will.”
As Reva closed the door, Grace collapsed onto the bed again. Reva didn’t believe that call was from my mother, Grace thought. But at least she didn’t keep questioning me about Rory.
Grace eyed the bedside phone warily. It stayed silent.
But Rory will call back. I know he will. It’s only a matter of time.
Rory isn’t finished with me yet.
• • •
Reva sat in the booth at Pete’s and tapped her foot impatiently.
Grant was five minutes late.
Where is he? she wondered, annoyed. Doesn’t he know I need him? He has to know about Traci. Liza must have told him I found her body. He should have been here waiting for me, worried about me!
Reva took a sip of her soda, then glanced around the pizza place. Still no sign of Grant.
If he doesn’t show up in three more minutes, I’m out of here. I’ll go home and . . . and what? Hang out with Grace?
What fun, she thought sarcastically. We can sit around and watch her bruise turn yellow.
Too bad Grace’s mother hadn’t insisted that she come home. Actually, Reva was surprised Grace hadn’t jumped at the excuse to get out of Shadyside. With Rory stalking her and Traci murdered, wouldn’t she feel safer at home?
But no! Never mind that she walked around shaking like a leaf and jumping at shadows, Grace wanted to stay.
And I’m stuck with her, Reva thought gloomily.
“Hey, why the long face?” Grant asked, sliding into the booth next to Reva. “Sorry, that was a stupid question,” he added, slipping an arm around her shoulder. “You must still be freaked about Traci.”
“Of course I am.” Reva gave him a cool look. “Plus, you’re late, Grant.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “Hey, don’t be angry.”
Reva kissed him back, breathing deeply. His skin was cold and smelled of the outdoors. “I’m not too angry, I guess,” she murmured. “But I thought you’d understand how upset I am. About Traci, I mean. And I thought you’d be here waiting for me. I was counting on it.”
“I wanted to be here sooner, but . . .” Grant pulled away and shrugged out of his jacket.
“But what?”
“Something came up.” He smoothed his dark hair and smiled nervously. “So. Did you order yet?”
Reva shook her head. “What came up?” she asked.
Grant’s smile faded and he sighed. “Liza.”
“Liza?” Reva sat up straight and gazed at him icily. “You were with Liza? Is that why you were late?”
“No, nothing like that,” he replied. “She called me earlier to tell me about Traci. But I haven’t seen her today.”
“I don’t get it,” Reva told him. “You weren’t with Liza, but she’s the reason you’re late?”
“Yeah. I just can’t help feeling guilty about sneaking around behind her back,” Grant admitted. “When she called, she asked if we could get together tonight. I made up some excuse, and she bought it. Didn’t even suspect I was lying.”
“So? What are you worried about?”
“I’m worried she’ll find out.” Grant sighed again. “I’m worried about lying. I’m just . . . I don’t know—feeling guilty.”
Oh, this is fun, Reva thought. A guy who’s going to cry on my shoulder because he feels guilty about cheating on his girlfriend. This is almost as much fun as staying home with Grace!
Still, Grant is awfully cute. And I really do need him now, with everything I’m going through.
I deserve Grant.
And I know how to get him.
Smiling sweetly, Reva put her hand on Grant’s arm. “Listen, if you feel that way about Liza, maybe we should just forget the whole thing,” she told him.
“No!” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I don’t want that, Reva. I really don’t.”
Reva smiled. “Good. I need you much more than Liza does. So forget about her, okay?” She leaned close and kissed him.
Grant kissed her back, softly at first. Then harder. “I’ll try,” he whispered.
“Don’t try,” Reva whispered back in a throaty voice. “Do it!”
• • •
As Grant drove Reva home a little while later, Reva leaned her head back and gazed out the car window.
Shadyside looked like a Christmas-card town. Snow on the ground. Wreaths on the telephone poles. Snowmen in the yards and colored lights strung on every tree and bush.
I wish I could get into the spirit, Reva thought. Maybe when the scarf show is a hit, I’ll feel more in the mood.
At home on the porch, she gave Grant a long kiss. “I can’t wait to see you again,” she murmured, her lips against his cheek. “Let’s meet again tomorrow, after I’m finished working.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Of course.” Reva glanced at him. “Why? You don’t have other plans, do you?”
Grant hesitated for just a second, then shook his head. “I’m all yours, Reva.”
“Good. That’s the way I like it.” She kissed him again, then slipped into the house. It was only eight-thirty. Not wanting to spend any time with Grace, she ran quietly up the stairs and tiptoed past Grace’s room to her own.
As she opened her door, the phone rang.
Grant? she wondered hopefully.
No, he just left. And his car didn’t have a phone.
It’s probably Pam, she decided. Pam the Pest. Honestly, doesn’t she realize that I have more important things to think about than a business contract with her? Doesn’t she know that without me, the only way she and Willow can sell those scarves is to peddle them on the street?
For a second, Reva was tempted not to answer the phone. But she changed her mind. Before the phone could ring a third time, Reva hurried across the room and snatched it up. “Yes?” she answered impatiently.
“Reva.”
The voice was low and raspy. It didn’t belong to Pam. It didn’t belong to anyone Reva knew. “Yes?” she repeated. “Who is this?”
“That doesn’t matter,” the caller rasped.
“What are you—”
“Shut up, Reva! Just listen to what I say. Are you listening?”
&nb
sp; Reva gripped the phone and nodded.
“Are you?” the voice demanded angrily.
“Yes! I’m listening!” Reva replied.
“You deserve what Traci got.”
Traci! A chill of fear ran down Reva’s spine.
“Did you hear me, Reva?” the caller rasped. “I’ll tell you again just in case you missed it. You deserve what Traci got!”
Chapter 16
THE MURDERED
“Who is this?” Reva demanded again.
“Traci is dead, the caller whispered, ignoring Reva’s question. “Remember how she died?”
The image of Traci flashed into Reva’s mind. Hanging from the pole, her eyes bulging lifelessly.
Blood snaking down her jacket.
The caller gave a short, vicious laugh. “Come on, Reva, you know exactly what I mean!”
Murder! That’s what the caller meant. That Reva should be murdered, just like Traci.
Reva gripped the phone, almost frozen with fear. She was actually talking with Traci’s killer—and now the killer was after her!
“I wish I could see you right now, Reva,” the caller whispered. “You’re probably shaking, wondering where to hide.”
Without meaning to, Reva glanced at her reflection in the mirror across the room. The caller was right—she looked terrified. Pale and big-eyed and helpless.
Get a grip, she thought, scowling at herself. You’re not in danger. Not at the moment anyway.
And you’re not helpless, either.
Quickly, Reva stared down at the phone. Thank goodness for caller I.D. She yanked open the nightstand drawer, grabbed a pencil and her telephone book, and copied the caller’s number from the caller I.D. screen.
“Remember what I said, Reva,” the voice rasped. “I’ll be in touch.”
The caller hung up.
You’re not going to be in touch with anybody, Reva thought.
Smiling grimly, she punched in the number of the Shadyside Police Department.
“This is Reva Dalby,” she announced to the officer who answered. “I want to talk to Detective Blake.”
“What’s this about?” the officer asked in a bored tone.
“It’s about Traci Meecham,” Reva said. “Tell Detective Blake that I just got a call from her murderer. A threatening call.” She paused dramatically. “I also have the number the call was made from.”
Sounding more interested, the officer took the number and told Reva to wait for a call back.
Twenty minutes later, the phone rang. “Miss Dalby, this is Detective Blake. We picked up your caller. We’d like you to come down to the station and make an identification.”
“Who is it?” Reva cried. But Blake had already hung up.
Reva grabbed her coat and hurried out to her car.
A cold wind blew icy snowflakes against the windshield as she drove through the streets. Reva turned the heater up full-blast, but she couldn’t stop shivering.
She was actually going to see the murderer face to face.
Who was it?
Who?
Who wants to do the same thing to me?
Still shivering, Reva parked her car and ran into the station.
Detective Blake met her inside the door. “Thanks for coming. This way,” he told her, striding off down a brightly lit hallway, the floor covered in mud-colored linoleum.
“Who is it?” Reva asked, hurrying after him. “Where did you find him? Or her? I didn’t recognize the phone number. Was it a phone booth?”
Without answering, Blake stopped in front of a door, turned the handle, and pushed it open.
Reva felt nervous, but angry, too. Angry at having been threatened. Eager to point the finger at her caller, she took a deep breath and strode inside.
A police officer stood against one wall, sipping from a Styrofoam cup. He looked relaxed, almost bored. But his eyes never left the beat-up wooden table in the center of the room.
Reva’s eyes snapped to the person sitting at the table.
She stopped, stunned.
“You?” she gasped in surprise.
Chapter 17
LOST IN THE SNOW
Daniel Powell sat in the chair, his eyes wide with panic as he stared back at Reva.
“You?” she repeated. “You killed Traci?”
“No!” Daniel leaped up, toppling his chair.
In a flash, the uniformed officer pushed away from the wall. He clapped one big hand on Daniel’s shoulder and used the other to pick up the chair. “Sit!” he ordered in a gravelly voice.
Daniel slowly sat down. His breath came hard and fast, as if he’d been running.
Detective Blake glanced at Reva. “I take it you know him?”
Reva nodded. “Yeah. From college.” She turned back to Daniel. “Why would you kill Traci? You didn’t even know her!”
“You’re right. I didn’t know her! And I didn’t kill her!” Daniel insisted. “Reva, you have to believe me!”
“Why should I?” she asked suspiciously. “I mean, you called me up and threatened me. You told me I deserve the same thing! Why should I believe anything you say?”
“Because I’m telling the truth!” Daniel raked his fingers through his sandy hair. “Look. I admit I called Reva tonight,” he said to Detective Blake. “And I told you why.”
“Why don’t you tell me?” Reva suggested coldly. “What did I ever do to deserve such a horrible call?”
“I already told you,” Daniel declared. “I came down to Shadyside as a surprise, and you pretended you didn’t even know me. I was so steamed, Reva. I still am. So I made that call tonight to scare you. To pay you back for treating me like dirt!”
“And is that why you killed Traci?” Reva demanded. “To pay me back for a harmless little joke?”
“I didn’t kill her!” Daniel shouted. “How many times do I have to say it? I didn’t kill Traci!”
Daniel started to rise again. The officer shot him a warning glance. Daniel dropped back down, shaking his head, his gaze lowered to the floor.
“You’ve got quite a temper, don’t you, son?” Blake asked him. “Is that what happened last year in high school—you lost your temper?”
Daniel didn’t respond.
“What do you mean?” Reva asked Blake. “What did he do last year in high school?”
“Beat up a buddy,” Blake told her. “Got arrested for assault.”
Reva stared at Daniel, horrified. She had actually gone out with this guy!
“He wasn’t a buddy,” Daniel declared. “He ripped off some stuff from the school and then pointed the finger at me. Got me in major trouble. When I found out, I let him have it. He deserved it.”
“The way Traci deserved to die?” Blake asked.
Daniel’s face flushed and he clenched his fists. “I did not kill her,” he insisted, almost spitting the words out. “I called Reva to scare her. But that’s it, you hear me? You can’t prove I did anything else!”
“We’ll see.” Blake nodded at Reva. “Let’s go to my desk so you can give your statement. Then you can go home.”
Reva glanced coldly at Daniel, then turned and followed Blake out of the room.
“What did you do to get him so steamed?” Blake asked as they walked down the dark hall.
“He showed up at my house late at night, and I told the security guard I didn’t know him,” Reva explained. “I don’t know what the big deal was. I told Daniel the next day that I was only kidding.”
Blake raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t think it was very funny either.
Reva shrugged. Some people just couldn’t take a joke.
Blake stopped at a metal desk and gestured for Reva to sit in the chair across from it. As he pulled a form from one of the drawers, Reva glanced around.
Mustard-yellow walls, chipped brown linoleum, and grimy windows. It’s worse than tacky, she thought. How can he work in this dump?
Brushing dust from the chair, Reva sat down and sighed. The whole place
smelled of burned coffee. Her stomach felt queasy. Her head started to pound. She wanted to go home. Hadn’t she done enough by coming down to identify Daniel?
Blake fed the form into a typewriter and began punching keys with two fingers.
Hello! Reva thought. Welcome to the twentieth century. Hadn’t the Shadyside police heard of computers?
“Spell your name, please,” Blake requested. “Last one first.”
Reva sighed again. “D, A—”
The desk phone rang.
Blake answered quickly.
Maybe he’ll have to leave, Reva thought hopefully. She tapped her burgundy-colored nails on the chair arm and watched Blake’s face for signs that he’d been called out on another case.
The detective listened for a few seconds, frowning. “You’re sure?” he asked. “No doubt?”
Another pause. Blake’s frown deepened.
Reva glanced at her watch and swung her foot impatiently.
“Okay. Thanks.” Blake hung up and puffed out a big breath of air. “Well. Looks like Daniel was telling the truth.”
“What do you mean?” Reva asked. “You mean he didn’t kill Traci?”
The detective shook his head. “He has an alibi for the night of the murder. He wasn’t anywhere near the store.”
“Are you sure?”
“My officers just confirmed it,” Blake told her. “The alibi is rock-solid. We’ll have to let him go.”
Reva’s headache suddenly throbbed harder.
Blake turned back to the typewriter. “We might as well take down your statement, though, so you can press charges on that phone call.”
Reva stood up. “I’ll have to think about that,” she told him.
“He threatened you, Miss Dalby,” Blake reminded her. “But we can’t do anything about it unless you tell us to.”
“Right now I just want to go home. It’s been a horrible night, and I’m exhausted,” Reva declared. “I’ll be in touch.”
As she hurried down the hall toward the exit, Reva fumbled in her pocket for the car keys. One of the keys caught on the lining. She bent her head to untangle it.
And crashed into Daniel.
Daniel reached out to steady her.
