by R. L. Stine
He followed her into her house.
“I’m so tired of winter,” she complained, rubbing her arms. “You’d better have a Valentine’s Day present for me, mister.”
“I might,” Steve teased.
She led him into the living room. Luke, in a heavy, old-fashioned-looking gray overcoat, was coming the other way. “Oh, hi, Steve.”
“Hi, Luke. How’s it going?” Steve asked, pulling off his jacket and tossing it onto the couch.
Luke shrugged. “Not great. I—uh—brought Rachel a big Valentine’s Day heart. You know. Chocolates. But she just stared at it.”
“Oh,” Steve said awkwardly.
Luke pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Rachel seems very troubled tonight,” he said, turning to Josie. “Something’s bothering her. Of course, she doesn’t say what.” He took a deep breath. “Well, I’ve got to get going.”
“Yeah. Well. See you,” Steve said.
Josie and Steve watched Luke head out the front door. When it closed behind him, Steve turned to her. He scratched his jaw. “I can’t decide about Luke,” he said.
Through the living room window, Josie watched Luke climb into his car in the driveway. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, I can’t decide if Luke is a great guy for sticking with Rachel. Or if there’s something wrong with him.”
Josie sighed impatiently. “Come on. It’s Valentine’s Day. Let’s not talk about Rachel tonight, okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed. He leaned down to kiss her, but she shoved him away.
“No present. No kiss.”
“You’re tough,” he teased, grinning. “Hey, are we going ice-skating, or not?”
“I don’t know,” Josie said reluctantly.
“You said that’s what you wanted to do,” Steve protested, disappointed. “We had so much fun the other night.”
“Yeah. Till I came home and found my dog murdered,” Josie muttered. She raised her eyes to him. “I’m kind of scared.”
“You mean—”
“I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day, the day I’m supposed to die. Here. Look.” Josie walked rapidly to the den. She reappeared a few seconds later carrying another valentine.
She jammed it into his hand. “Here. Read this—the latest one.” Her eyes locked onto his, revealing her fear.
Steve was surprised by her fear. Then, frowning, he opened the card. He read it aloud:
“Roses are black,
Violets are gray.
On Valentine’s Day,
You’ll start to decay.”
Steve stared at the handwritten message for a long while. “Do you recognize the handwriting?”
Josie shook her head. She took the card from him and folded it between her hands. “Maybe we shouldn’t go out,” she said softly.
“It’s a stupid joke,” Steve replied, frowning. “It’s just dumb. We shouldn’t let it spoil the whole night.” He took her hand, surprised to find it ice-cold. “Come on, Josie. I told Dave Metcalf and Cory Brooks and some other kids we’d meet them at the ice-skating rink.”
Josie pulled her hand from his. “I really don’t think we should go out tonight,” she insisted. “The stupid valentines are probably a joke, but what if they’re not? What if someone is really crazy enough to . . .” Her voice trailed off. She tossed the card down on the couch. “Let’s rent a video and stay here.”
“But we had such a great time the other night,” Steve protested.
He started to say more, but the intercom on the wall clicked on.
They heard crackling sounds, then someone breathing.
Then Rachel’s voice, whispery, soft, and teasing. “Someone hates you, Josie,” Rachel said. “Someone really hates you.”
Josie uttered an exasperated cry. She grabbed the sleeve of Steve’s sweater. “Let’s get out of here!” she cried and started to pull him toward the front door.
“Somebody hates you, Josie,” Rachel repeated over the intercom in a whispery, sing-song voice. “Somebody hates you.”
Steve grabbed his jacket. “We’re going ice-skating?”
“I don’t care where we go,” Josie replied, pulling her jacket from the front closet. “I just have to get out of here! Rachel gives me the creeps lately!”
Tossing her jacket over her shoulder, she started to pull open the front door. She turned to see Steve hanging back.
She followed his glance. He was staring at the folded-up valentine on the couch cushion.
“Josie, somebody hates you a lot!” Rachel’s voice came over the intercom.
“Steve, I have to get out of here!” Josie cried. “I can’t take this. I really can’t.” She motioned for him to hurry.
As Steve made his way to the door, a new voice came on the small speaker on the wall. It was Erica’s, and she sounded upset. “Josie, are you going out? The nurse had to leave early and I’m here alone.”
“Yes, I am going out. See you later!” Josie called impatiently into the box.
“But how can you?” Erica demanded unhappily.
“What difference is it to you? You don’t have a date tonight,” Josie said cruelly. Then she added, “I’ll take care of Rachel tomorrow. Promise.”
“I don’t believe you,” Erica said angrily, her voice making the small speaker vibrate. “Listen, Josie—”
“Bye, I’m gone,” Josie said brusquely and stepped out the front door. Steve followed, a troubled expression on his face, and pulled the front door shut behind him.
It was a cold, clear night. Most of the snow had melted. Small patches stood up on the front lawn like icebergs in a dark ocean.
The bare trees were still as if frozen in place. A pale half moon was high in the charcoal sky. Josie gazed up but couldn’t see any stars. Somewhere down the block a dog howled mournfully.
Their sneakers squished on the wet ground as they made their way down the lawn to Steve’s car at the curb. Holding on to Steve’s arm, Josie glanced at Melissa’s house across the street. All the lights were on. She could see someone’s shadow behind the drawn shade in an upstairs room.
At the curb she pulled open the car door, started to lower herself to the seat, then stopped. “Steve, look,” she said, motioning back to the driveway.
Steve turned to follow her gaze.
“It’s Luke,” Josie said, lowering her voice to a whisper.
Luke’s car was still in the driveway up near the house. In the yellow light from the porch, Josie could see Luke sitting behind the wheel. He seemed to be staring straight ahead, not moving.
“What’s his problem?” Steve asked, leaning against the car door as he stared at Luke’s car.
“I don’t know,” Josie replied, bewildered. “Why is he just sitting there?”
“Think I should go talk to him or something?” Steve suggested.
Josie shook her head. “No. I don’t know. I mean, he’s okay, I think. Maybe he just wants to be alone or something.”
“Weird,” Steve said, shaking his head. He lowered himself into the car.
As they drove down Fear Street, heading toward town, Josie was surprised to find herself becoming more and more frightened.
She tried to force them away, but the upsetting images of the past week invaded her mind. Muggy dead. The dark puddle of blood. Rachel’s giggling response. Rachel so gleeful as she announced that somebody hated Josie. The valentines. The horrible valentines with their scrawled, ugly threats.
She stared out into the passing night, dark yards and houses whirring by, and felt the waves of fear roll over her body. “Steve,” she said softly, touching his arm as if making sure he was real and not just another image. “Steve, maybe we should turn back.”
“You’ll be okay,” he said soothingly. “Really.”
“But those valentines. They all said I’d die today.”
“A stupid joke, Josie,” he replied calmly. “A horrible, stupid joke. Don’t worry.”
“But I am worried,” Josie admitted in a tre
mbling voice. “I’m very worried. . . .”
Chapter 14
ERICA IS WORRIED
Erica squinted through the darkness to the clock on her bedroom wall: 2:03.
She pulled herself up in bed and lowered her feet to the floor.
Staring at the clock, she stretched and listened to the silence.
The house was dark and still.
I’m the only one awake, Erica told herself unhappily.
Her father was still away on his business trip. Her mother had returned from a party at the neighbors’ house at about eleven-thirty and had gone right to bed.
Mom is sleeping peacefully, Erica thought. She’s such a sound sleeper, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know that it’s after two in the morning and Josie isn’t home.
I’m the only one who’s awake.
With a groan, she stood up and untwisted her nightshirt. Then she made her way across the dark room to her desk, the floorboards creaking under the thin carpet.
She clicked on the desk lamp, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the bright white light. Leaning on the edge of the desk, she reached for the phone directory.
She dropped the directory on the desk, then flipped quickly through the B’s until she found Barron. Steve’s phone number had been underlined in red ink, probably by Josie.
Keeping her finger on the number, Erica glanced up at the clock. She sighed and punched Steve’s number, leaning against the old oak desk as she waited for the ring.
“Hello?” Steve answered halfway through the third ring, his voice hoarse with sleep.
“Steve?” Erica whispered.
“Uh-huh. Who’s this?”
Erica started to reply, then heard a loud clunk.
“Sorry,” Steve said after a few seconds. “Dropped the phone.”
“Were you asleep? It’s Erica.”
“Huh? Erica?” Steve said the name as if he’d never heard it before. “Yeah. I was asleep. I . . . uh . . .”
“Steve, I’m so worried,” Erica told him, her voice revealing her fear. “Josie isn’t home.”
The line was silent for a long moment. “Not home?” Steve finally replied, sounding alert. “What time is it?”
“It’s after two,” Erica told him.
“It is?” He sounded very surprised. “But Josie should’ve been home hours ago.”
“I don’t understand,” Erica said, starting to sound more than a little frantic. “Wasn’t she with you? Didn’t you bring her home?”
“We had a fight,” Steve replied, speaking rapidly in a low, steady voice.
“You what?”
“We had a stupid argument,” Steve repeated. “It was really dumb. About skates or something. I don’t even remember what started it.”
“And what happened?” Erica asked, lowering herself into her desk chair. Her hand gripped the receiver so tightly, it began to ache.
“Well, Josie left,” he told her reluctantly.
“By herself?” Erica cried in alarm.
“No, huh-uh,” Steve answered quickly, sounding very defensive. “She left with a whole bunch of kids.”
He cleared his throat loudly, then continued. “We were all at the rink together. After we had that dumb argument, Josie left with them. With the others.” He cleared his throat again. “But—but she should have been home hours ago, Erica.”
“I know,” Erica said unhappily.
“Do you think—?” Steve started.
“Oh. Wait!” Erica interrupted. “That’s the front doorbell. That must be Josie. Bye.”
Erica hung up the receiver without waiting for Steve’s reply. Then she hurriedly padded down the front stairs in the darkness, her bare feet making the stairway groan and creak.
Eagerly, she turned the lock and, using both hands, pulled open the front door.
“Josie?” she cried.
Chapter 15
TERRIBLE TROUBLE
Erica uttered a silent gasp.
She blinked, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the harsh yellow porch light.
It wasn’t Josie.
Standing grim faced on the other side of the glass storm door were two dark-uniformed police officers.
Erica recognized them immediately. They were the same men, the young-looking redhead and the older one, bald in front with a wide salt-and-pepper mustache, who had come to their house after Muggy had been killed.
They gazed in at her, their features set, their eyes narrowed.
Erica pushed open the storm door with a trembling hand. “Is—everything okay?” she asked haltingly.
She could tell by their expressions that everything wasn’t okay.
“Are your mother and father home?” the older one asked somberly.
“My dad is away,” Erica told him, her voice trembling. “But I can call my mom.”
Suddenly chilled, she held the glass door open for them. The two police officers stepped inside quickly, silently. They seemed to bring the cold in with them. To Erica the room temperature dived to below zero.
The older one pulled the storm door shut. His partner removed his cap and nervously scratched his curly red hair.
Erica turned and was startled to see her mother already behind her in the hall. Mrs. McClain was struggling to tie the belt of her robe with trembling hands.
“Erica?” she asked, her voice still choked with sleep. “What’s going on?”
“I’m afraid I have some very bad news,” the older police officer said softly.
Mrs. McClain gasped and reached out to grab the banister with her right hand to steady herself. “About Josie? Where is she? She isn’t home?”
Erica shook her head no and shut her eyes.
“There’s no other way to say this but to say it,” the officer said in a low steady voice. He took a deep breath. “Mrs. McClain, your daughter has been murdered.”
Mrs. McClain uttered a shrill shriek. Her knees buckled and she collapsed onto the floor of the hall.
“Nooooooooo!” As she landed, she let out a piercing wail that sounded more animal than human.
The two officers lunged forward to help her. She landed hard, straight down on her knees, still wailing. “Not Josie. Please—not Josie.”
“How did it happen? How do you know? How do you know it’s Josie?” The questions poured out of Erica in a desperate voice she didn’t recognize. “Who did it? How do you know? What if—”
The red-haired officer helped the sobbing Mrs. McClain to her feet. “Not Josie. Please, not Josie!” she kept repeating, enormous tears running down her quivering cheeks.
“We found your sister in the alley behind the ice rink,” the older police officer told Erica, speaking in a low, professional voice. “We identified her by her wallet. She hadn’t been robbed. She was dead when we arrived. She had been stabbed in the back. With the blade of an ice skate. The skate was still in her back.”
“Ohhhhh.” Erica moaned. She stared wide-eyed at the grim-faced man for a long while. Then her eyes rolled up in her head. Her knees bent, and she crumpled in a heap to the floor.
The older officer bent quickly to help her.
“No! No! Please—no!” Mrs. McClain was still screaming.
“Ma’am, do you have a family doctor?” the red-haired officer asked, holding on to her shoulder. “Perhaps the doctor could come out and—”
He stopped in midsentence, startled as another figure floated down the stairway. Rachel emerged from the shadows, wearing a long, flowing white nightgown, her hair down over her shoulders.
“Somebody hates Josie,” Rachel declared in a bright sing-song voice. She had an eerie smile on her face. “Somebody really hates you, Josie.”
Still leaning over the unconscious Erica, the older policeman’s expression darkened. “What? What did you say?” he called suspiciously up to Rachel.
“Somebody hates Josie,” Rachel repeated, smiling, her green eyes sparkling in the hall light.
“Huh?” The two officers glanced quizzically a
t each other.
“Ignore poor Rachel,” Mrs. McClain told them through her tears, shaking her head sadly. “Just ignore her. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The next morning, Sunday morning, Melissa had planned to sleep late. But she was startled awake by her mother’s voice, calling from downstairs.
“Melissa, phone!”
“Huh?” Melissa muttered, slowly raising her head from the warmth of her pillow. “Phone, Melissa!”
Melissa pulled herself up and rubbed her eyes. She struggled to focus on the clock radio. Only eight-thirty.
“Hey, Mom, why’d you wake me?” she shouted irritably. “Why didn’t you tell them to call back?”
“It’s Dave,” Mrs. Davis shouted patiently. “I wouldn’t have awakened you, but he said it was important.”
Dave?
What could Dave possibly want at eight-thirty on a Sunday morning?
This better be good, Melissa thought, yawning.
She picked up the phone extension on her bedside table. “Hello? Dave?”
“Hi, Melissa. I . . . uh . . .”
“Dave, what’s the matter?” Melissa asked with concern. “You don’t sound good.”
“Melissa, I’ve got to talk to you. Right away,” Dave said breathlessly. “I-I’m in terrible trouble.”
Chapter 16
A STUPID THING
Melissa pulled on jeans and a sweater and hurried to The Corner, the small coffee shop near Shadyside High.
Dave was already in a booth in the back when she arrived. He was wearing a faded, blue-denim work shirt with the collar turned up. He was tapping the tabletop nervously with a blade from his Swiss army knife.
He looked up as Melissa slid in across from him, but didn’t smile. His small, dark eyes were red rimmed and tired looking, Melissa noticed. His long, black hair was unbrushed.
“Hi,” she said tentatively. “You look terrible! Did you hear about Josie?”
He folded up the knife and set it down on the white Formica tabletop. He nodded. “Yeah, I just heard it on the news.”
“I can’t believe it!” Melissa exclaimed. “I mean, I just saw Josie on Friday. And now, this morning . . .”
