"How are you feeling?" Laura asked as she entered. Shelby just shrugged.
"So-so," she sighed. "How was your date with Buck?"
"It wasn't boring," Laura began. "That's for sure." She related the events of the evening, from Rayne and the burger-bug incident, to Buck's vow to avenge his tires, to Chester's maniacal behavior.
"I hope you enjoyed the movie, at least," Shelby deadpanned.
"Stop it!" cried Laura, giggling nonetheless. "I'm worried. On top of all this, Doug says he has to talk to me. About what, I don't know, but by the sound of it, it's important and probably not good. And I still have to put on a happy face when I go looking for work, though I have applications just about everywhere by now, so I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do next."
"I know a place at the mall that's got an opening," Shelby said with an evil little grin on her face.
"That's not funny! I already got that from Buck yesterday." Now she was angry. It wasn't like Shelby to joke in such poor taste. Shelby immediately said she was sorry, and Laura easily forgave her. "I guess it's follow-up visit day," she sighed. "Rest up," she told Shelby as she rose to leave. "And wish me luck."
* * *
This day of job hunting was no less disappointing than all the others. None of the businesses to which Laura had previously applied had any job openings. Except, of course, Fair Warning. By midday, Laura was so frustrated, she actually found herself driving to the mall to apply for the position left empty due to Allison's murder. Unfortunately the store was closed due to the murder investigation.
Standing at the glass partition that closed Fair Warning off from the mall, Laura stared into the empty store. She found the three-way mirror in front of which, according to the papers, Allison had been hanged. On the right wing of the mirror, Laura could see dark smears. Pressing her face against the partition, she could tell the smears were brown or dark red.
Dried blood.
Laura pulled herself away from Fair Warning. She did not want to see any blood, let alone the blood of a murder victim she knew. Had known, to be more precise. She felt ghoulish, knowing she had been ready to take advantage of another person's death that way.
Shame drove Laura home, where she found a note from Shelby. It read:
Laura:
Feeling lots better. Thought I'd get some air.
Phone messages: Buck called a couple times from the hospital. He said call him ASAP. Doug called once, but said you won't be able to reach him until later because he's working at the Appleby mansion. So he'll call you back. Another round of hang-ups, as well. What's up with that, I wonder?
Hope the day went well for you, and I'll see you around dinner.
Shel
Laura put down the note, glad that her sister was feeling better. The rest of the note, however, had brought her down. Way down. Buck had called. She dreaded the day when he might find out who had vandalized his car. And if he ever found out that Laura had known it was Chester to begin with, he would feel betrayed. Laura was afraid of what both boys would do — to each other, and to her — if she ever told Buck the truth.
Then there was Doug. He had something on his mind and she was certain it was bad news. She couldn't take any more bad news right now. On the other hand, maybe he could help her figure out what to do about Buck and Chester. That buoyed Laura's spirits a bit. If he could help, then it would be easier for her to deal with whatever Doug was worried about. She didn't like trading bad news for bad news, but it was better than letting the same old bad stuff just fester.
Echoing Shelby's words, Laura wondered what was up with all those answering machine hang-ups. For her money, she guessed that it was Chester calling to harass her. Laura hoped he would stop trying. She didn't want to call the police, but after last night, especially with Chester's comment about Allison deserving to die, it might soon be her only recourse.
Laura shuddered. The phone rang.
"I've been trying to reach you all day!" came Buck's frantic voice. "Where have you been?"
"I just got in," she told him. "What's wrong?"
"Got some news about your friend Chester today," he told her.
"What?" Laura's blood froze. Had he found out about Chester and the tires? She braced herself for his anger.
"You know when the police brought him in the other day?" Buck asked, sounding excited. "I found out they gave him a blood test."
"Why would they do that?"
"To see if his blood type matched that of some blood they found at the scene."
Laura remembered the dark smears on the mirror. A small tremor traveled up her spine. "Wouldn't that blood be Allison's?"
"The thing is, Allison was hanged, not stabbed or anything. She didn't bleed at all. So it must be the killer's blood."
Frightened of the answer, she asked, "So was Chester a match?"
"I don't know," he said. "But they did let him go." Buck was obviously disappointed he could not pin blame on his nemesis. "But there are two weird rumors going around.
"One is that a message was written in the blood they found. What the message was hasn't come out yet. The other isn't really a rumor, but an odd item. Remember Warner Holbert? The guy from the accident?"
"Yes. Did they ever find him?" Laura had completely forgotten about the headhunter's disappearance.
"No, he's still missing. But they've pulled records on his blood type as well."
That certainly was odd. "What could he possibly have to do with Allison?"
"Don't know that either. But the hospital is buzzing from all this, and I had to tell someone. You were the only one I could think of to call.
That reminded Laura of a question she had been meaning to ask. "What do your old friends think of all the excitement here in Springwood?"
Laura could almost hear Buck raise his walls of defense. "What old friends?" he asked warily.
"Where you used to live."
"Oh, I don't have many old friends," he said, almost daring Laura to ask about — to pry into — his old life. But Laura dropped the challenge. After a moment of awkward silence, Buck asked, "By the way, speaking of old friends, if you knew who had let the air out of my tires, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"
Laura tensed. The jig was up. Or maybe he was just trying to trap her. Hoping she had not paused too long, she said, "No one I know would do something like that." Then, to keep it from being a complete lie, added, "None of my friends, at least."
Buck seemed to weigh her statement carefully before responding. "That's what I mean. If it was one of your friends, would you protect him?"
Him? So he did suspect someone in particular. And he suspected her of shielding that someone. She still thought her lying would save all of them a lot of grief.
"It's Doug, isn't it?" Buck said suddenly.
Laura's jaw dropped open, though Buck couldn't see it. She spoke through her shock. "No way! That is completely not the way Doug is."
"Are you sure about that? I've heard some things…" He let his voice trail off meaningfully, but Laura could only laugh indignantly.
"Right. Like what? And from whom? Chester?" She almost told Buck at that moment who had really sabotaged his car. But his wild accusation was so infuriating, she resolved that if Buck wanted to know who was responsible, he'd have to find out for himself. "Listen, Buck, Doug is one of the nicest guys I know. And one of my few real friends." She emphasized «real» hoping to bait him a little. Laura wanted Buck to know that he couldn't just waltz into town and presume to be that important to her. Buck didn't take the bait, however.
"Okay, okay," he said. "I may be new here, but I read people pretty well. This doesn't necessarily mean he was involved last night, but I don't think Doug is quite who you think."
"That's right, you are new here," she retorted.
"Okay, okay. Whatever you say. I'm just looking out for you."
Laura just rolled her eyes. Buck was totally off base now. And as far as she was concerned, it was past the ninth inning and the stan
ds were empty. The game was over.
"I have to go now," she told Buck, for once not trying to conceal her displeasure.
"I really blew it, didn't I?" he said quietly.
"You ain't just whistlin' Dixie," she said humorlessly and hung up.
As Laura expected, the phone rang again mere seconds after she had hung up. The first few times, whoever was calling — Buck, presumably — hung up as soon as the answering machine picked up. Sure enough, Buck finally left a message.
"I don't know if you're listening to this or you've gone out," he said in a humble voice. "But I'm sorry I upset you. It's difficult enough to make friends in a new place without trampling all over their feelings. I guess I'm the proverbial bull in the china shop, in that sense. But I hope you understand how I feel. Besides you and your sister, no one else has been too friendly to me. And then to be attacked like that last night…" His voice had started to become tinged with sadness. Suddenly he stopped, took a deep breath, and spoke more forcefully. "Sorry, I was starting to whine. Anyway, bottom line is, I value you as a friend. I've worked hard to get to this point, and I'll work even harder to get you back. You say jump, I'll ask how high. Until then, I'll improvise. Call me when you're not mad." He seemed about to go on, but then just said good-bye and hung up.
Laura immediately erased the message. His plea was impassioned, and even sounded sincere, but it deserved no immediate response. Buck was too mercurial, always acting or talking before thinking, then justifying his questionable actions. It would be interesting to see what he'd say after a few days of silence. How would he react if his standard line was rebuffed?
What tune would he be whistling then?
* * *
By dinnertime, Shelby had still not returned home. This worried Laura. She had no idea where her sister was, or with whom. Normally Shelby included where she was going — usually the library or the hobby shop — in her note. Laura found herself looking out the front window, watching for her.
So when the phone rang, Laura pounced on it like a leopard.
"Shelby?"
"Nope. Doug."
Laura exhaled in a low whistle. Where was Shelby?
"Is something wrong?" asked Doug.
"Oh, not really," Laura replied, feeling a little silly. "Shelby went out this afternoon and hasn't come home yet."
After a pause, Doug told her, "She's fine, I bet." But he didn't sound too convincing.
"You're no help."
"Sorry," he said quickly. Then his voice brightened measurably, if somewhat artificially. "I'm sure Shelby's all right. But I didn't call about her, I called about you. You haven't had dinner yet, have you?"
"No. I'm waiting for Shelby."
This time Doug seemed truly cheered. "Great. Come out to dinner with me tonight. So we can talk."
"I can't just up and leave." Laura glanced out the window once more. The street was still empty.
"Sure you can. Shelby did. And if she did, she's saying she can take care of herself, which means she can worry about dinner herself tonight."
"I don't know…"
"Unless you have other plans," Doug said, trying to sound nonchalant — and utterly failing. Laura knew what he meant. Other plans with Buck. Well, that sure wasn't the case.
"You're right. Shelby can deal."
Doug was elated at her decision, and nearly hung up on her in his excitement to pick her up.
"I'll be right over!"
"No you won't," Laura told him promptly. "You have to give me an hour to get ready." Doug readily agreed and they hung up. Shelby would be proud of me, she thought. I'm making a boy wait. Of course, it's not like he's a potential beau or anything — it was Doug, after all — but it was always good to get in a little practice.
Still, Laura took only a half hour to get ready, and was glad when Doug showed up fifteen minutes early. In all that time, there had been no word from Shelby, but by then, Laura had accepted that her sister was capable of taking care of herself. And besides, she was probably just at the hobby shop and had simply neglected to mention that in her note. So Laura just added a small note of her own at the end of Shelby's.
Out to dinner with Doug. Be home later.
Laura
Laura didn't notice how nervous Doug was acting until they began rumbling down the street in his car. She also did not notice that they were being followed.
"Where to?" she asked. "Jaguar?" Then a horrible image of last evening's six-legged snack popped into her head. "Please let's not go to Big Game Burger." She didn't want to tell Doug what had happened. It might just sound like sour grapes to him.
"Nope. I got a surprise for you tonight." He then turned and gave her a perplexing smile.
She wondered silently what Doug was up to. He obviously wanted her to ask, but she felt too tired to play an active role in a guessing game.
Doug turned back to the road — which quickly led them through town.
After a few turns, they reached an almost rural section of town, where larger, older houses were separated by vast lawns and wooded areas. More and more often, the driveways were actually long dirt roads. It was down one of these dusty paths that Doug drove. Trees formed a thick canopy overhead, blocking out the sky. Dusk was approaching, and Laura suddenly felt as if they had driven into a cave.
"Uh, Doug," Laura gulped, "where are we going?"
With the same mysterious grin as before, Doug said, "We'll be there soon. It's a surprise."
The dirt and gravel path wove among the trees for what seemed like miles. Laura could not tell where they were. But she knew they were far from any restaurants. Or people, for that matter. Why was Doug acting so strangely? For no particular reason, Laura's paranoia returned.
Buck had said that Doug wasn't who she thought. What could Buck know? He was the stranger, not Doug.
The voices seemed to fight for space in her head. Why are you so nervous? they asked. You've been nervous since the accident. Allison's murder upset you even more. You remember there was a message written in blood, and it was written with the killer's blood.
And you noticed that Doug has a cut on his hand.
Laura gasped, and for the first time realized what she had seen when Doug came to pick her up. There was a bandage on his index finger.
The message had been written in the killer's blood.
They had kept driving out of town. They were miles away from civilization now.
"What's wrong?" Doug asked, noticing her silence.
"I have to get back home," was all she could think of in reply.
Doug frowned, then smiled. "You kidder. Like you'd let me bring you out all this way and then make me turn around." He chuckled, evidently amused by Laura's presumed joke. "Don't worry, we're almost there."
Laura could say nothing more. She stared at the gauze bandage wrapped around his finger. A spot of blood had soaked through.
The message had been written in the killer's blood.
Chapter 10
"What happened to your finger?" Laura asked timidly.
Doug lifted his hand into the air long enough to make a face at it. "Paper cut," he said simply, and gripped the steering wheel once more. Then a bright smile bloomed on his face. "Ah, here we are." Lifting his hand once more, he used the bandaged finger to point ahead of them. Laura had to tear her eyes away from the blood spot to see what he was pointing at.
Distracted by the bandage, Laura hadn't noticed that the road had become paved. The drive was now smooth. Suddenly the trees gave way to a giant field of grass containing many gentle hills. But this wasn't just a field. It was a lawn — the front lawn to the biggest house Laura had ever seen.
"The Appleby mansion," Doug announced proudly.
Laura gasped, this time in awe rather than fear. The Appleby mansion was huge and magnificent, a smalltown Versaille. And as they approached, the mansion seemed impossibly to grow larger still. Only the scaffolding lent reality to what otherwise seemed to be a grand movie facade.
&nbs
p; Doug was beside himself with pride that his surprise seemed to be working.
"Thought you'd like it." He beamed. "It's being renovated, as you can see. But it's still magnificent, isn't it?"
"Wow," was all that Laura could come up with. "I've seen pictures, and you've told me about it, but…"
"Yeah, I know. I work here three days a week painting, and I'm still pretty impressed by it." He pulled the car into an area of muddy, trampled grass that seemed to serve as a makeshift work-crew parking lot during the day.
"How's the work going?" Laura asked as she pushed opened her door and got out. Her eyes never left the incredible building before her.
"We should be done very soon. It's supposed to be occupied by October." Doug was leading her to a bank of scaffolding on the north end of the house.
"Why are they waiting so long to move in if you'll be done so much earlier?"
Doug shook his head and shrugged. "Apparently there will be major renovations to the inside, too. Not regular stuff, but I dunno." They arrived at the scaffolding. Doug looked up a ladder that stretched high into the air. "I got to go up there and check something. Can you hold on a sec?"
Laura said she'd wait, so Doug quickly climbed the ladder to the third level of scaffolding. He was pretty high up. Then he was gone, off the ladder and onto the platform above. Fluttering tarps hid him from view. Laura stepped back and strained to look, but could not see him. She thought she caught a glimpse of flickering light against the bottom of the fourth-level platform, but wasn't sure. Just then, Doug poked his face out from the scaffolding.
"Can you climb up here?" he called down. "I have to show you something."
Instead of shouting back, Laura just gave him a thumbs-up and started climbing. Heights did not bother her. But she climbed slowly. About halfway up, something inside reminded her that only minutes ago she had been afraid Doug was luring her to her doom. She paused during the climb.
Nah. This is Doug, she reminded herself, and resumed climbing.
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