Sara

by Greg Herren

  “What exactly were we supposed to say to Randy?” I interrupted her. “Be careful, Randy, Glenn’s mad at you, and everyone who he’s mad at has been dying lately, in case you haven’t noticed?”

  She squirmed in her chair and forced a small smile. “Well, when you put it like that, it does sound crazy.” She rubbed her eyes. “I know, I know I shouldn’t feel responsible, but Tony, we have to do something.”

  “He would have just laughed at us, Laney, you know that.” I went on, “He wouldn’t have listened to us, and whatever was going to happen would have happened anyway. Besides, we don’t know for sure anything’s happened to Randy.” I forced a smile. “Maybe he went to a fraternity party at the college. I mean, I know he usually didn’t drink, but maybe last night was the exception to the rule.”

  “I know he’s dead,” she moaned. She got up and walked over to the window. “I just know it, Tony. I can feel it, inside. I can’t explain it any better than that. He’s dead.”

  “Listen to me, Laney.” I closed my eyes. “If—if what we think is true, we should have dreamed about Randy last night. I didn’t, did you?”

  She shook her head. “No.” She didn’t seem reassured.

  “We both dreamed about Noah and Zack the nights they died, didn’t we?” I folded my arms. “So, if we’re right, and neither of us dreamed about Randy dying, we have to assume he’s okay.” It made sense, but I knew what she meant. I had a horrible feeling I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried.

  Randy wouldn’t be found alive.

  But it seemed to satisfy her, and she smiled back at me. “I guess I sounded like a lunatic.” She sat back down in the chair, crossing her legs. “But when the Froelichs called me this morning—”

  “You were just scared, that’s all.” I smiled back at her. “Which is perfectly natural, you know.”

  “I know, I know.” She chewed on a fingernail for a moment. “I know it all sounds crazy, and it doesn’t make sense. I know that. But deep down I just know I’m right, that somehow she’s behind it all, you know? And I’m scared.” She took a few deep breaths and bit her lower lip. “If she’s killing everyone who’s hurt Glenn in some way—won’t I be on that list?”

  “I don’t think so.” I shook my head. “Why would he be mad at you? That’s ancient history, and besides, I don’t see how it could possibly matter now—”

  “Now that he’s gay?” Her mouth twisted. “I hurt him over and over again, Tony. I really did like him, you know, I just didn’t like him that way. I kept thinking maybe I could, you know, but—” She cut herself off. “I sometimes wondered, if it was my fault, maybe if I’d been able to—”

  “Glenn’s being gay isn’t your fault. He was born that way, Laney. He tried not to be until this summer.” I closed my eyes. “So forget that, okay? The only thing that’d be different would be he wouldn’t have admitted the truth to himself this soon.”

  “Maybe it would have been better if he hadn’t,” she said with a toss of her head. “I mean, maybe if things could have worked between us, he wouldn’t have gotten involved with Clark Murphy, and then he wouldn’t have come out, and all the stuff with Noah and Zack and Randy wouldn’t have happened, and she wouldn’t have shown up.”

  I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. There was a water stain on the tile directly above my head. “What exactly do we know about her, anyway?” I tried to remember what Candy had said that night at Vista when she introduced her to the rest of us. “She’s living with her aunt and uncle, isn’t that what it is? She moved here from somewhere, just got here the day before the first game.” I tried to remember where she’d said she was from, but it just wasn’t there anymore.

  “I don’t know anything about her.” Laney’s voice was terse. I looked over at her. Her eyes were narrowed. “I just know she’s the one responsible for everything.”

  “You’re so sure.” I frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

  “I just know,” she replied. “Have you talked to Candy today?” She pulled her cell phone out of her purse. “Candy probably knows more about her than anyone other than Glenn, and we can’t exactly ask him.”

  “Glenn came by last night.” I frowned as I looked over at the clock on the nightstand. “He was supposed to stop by this morning, and so was Candy, for that matter.” It was almost one. That wasn’t like either of them.

  “Straight to voice mail.” Laney tossed her phone back into her purse. “I wonder if Candy dreamed about Randy last night.” Laney got up and started pacing. “Her dreams seemed more detailed and intense than ours. Maybe we’re out of touch now with whatever it is that’s doing this. Maybe something’s changed for us. Maybe you didn’t dream about Randy because”—she gestured to my cast—“there’s no more danger for you. And maybe I didn’t…” Her voice trailed off for a bit. “I don’t know, maybe the three of us actually comparing notes changed something. But no—that doesn’t make any sense either.” She sighed. “There’s so much we don’t know.” She sat back down, but almost immediately started fidgeting. “What did Glenn have to say for himself?”

  “He apologized for the accident.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe Glenn has anything to do with this stuff, Laney. You didn’t see him last night, how bad he felt, how guilty.”

  “So you think I’m imagining all this?” She didn’t seem either angry or offended. She laughed. “You have no idea how much I want that to be true, Tony. No idea.” She scooted the chair closer to the side of my bed. “When I left here yesterday, I felt so much better, you know, having told you guys what I’ve been thinking. I sometimes wonder if I’m going crazy. But the dreams, Tony—that’s the thing I can’t explain away. If it was just me, but both you and Candy had them, too.” She made a face. “I don’t believe it’s some kind of collective delusion or whatever Candy said. But when I’m alone, it’s too much to believe. And now Randy—”

  “But we didn’t dream about Randy,” I pointed out. “So if your theory is right—”

  She cut me off. “I hate to break it to you, Tony, but neither of us dreamed about your accident either.”

  That jolted me. She was right, and it hadn’t even occurred to me. While in some ways I liked the idea we wouldn’t be having the dreams anymore, she was right about one thing: If something really was going on, and it wasn’t just our imaginations making something out of nothing, the dreams were a part of it. They connected us to what was going on—and I didn’t know if I liked the idea of not having them anymore.

  “Didn’t think of that, did you? We’ve got to do something, Tony. We can’t keep just sitting around waiting to see what’s going to happen next, who’s going to be hurt or killed next, you know. One of us may piss Glenn off…and then what?” She shivered. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not real big on dying.”

  Her words echoed through my head. One of us may piss Glenn off…

  I dry swallowed. Maybe I already had. “So what do you think we should do, Nancy Drew?” I asked sarcastically.

  She made a face at me and made a farting noise with her lips. She pulled out her cell phone and started typing on it. “Someone needs to talk to Glenn’s dad, and the obvious choice is you,” Laney said. “You know him better than I do, and he might open up to you. Maybe something like this happened before, when he lived in Chicago. And someone should go over to Sara’s and talk to her aunt and uncle. There’s something not quite right about that whole set-up.” She put her phone down. “Do you remember the name of the suburb in Chicago where Glenn lived?”

  “Farmington,” I replied.

  “I’ll see if the town newspaper is online…see if there’s any weird deaths at the high school while Glenn was there.” She finished typing and put the phone back in her purse. She smiled. “I feel better already.”

  “And just what am I supposed to say to Glenn’s dad?” I asked. “I think your son is involved somehow in all the deaths of our friends? Did something like this happen in Chicago, too? Is there someth
ing we can do to make him stop?”

  Before Laney could answer me, the door to my room opened. Candy stood there in the doorway, hesitating. She was crying, and her hair was a mess. “Oh my God, you guys,” she managed to get out between sobs. “Randy Froelich’s dead.” She wiped at her face.

  “No, honey, he’s just missing,” I replied gently. “I’m sure he’s going to turn up.”

  She shook her head and tried to get hold of herself. “They found him floating face down in Lake Kahola.” Her voice broke. “In his underwear. Drowned.” She covered her face in her hands and started sobbing.

  Goose bumps rose on my arms. I didn’t like Randy Froelich, and never had. But this? Drowned in Lake Kahola? I glanced over at Laney. She was crying, but I knew exactly what she was thinking as our eyes locked. I told you he wouldn’t be alive. He pissed off Glenn and now he’s dead. Who’s going to be next?

  We sat there in silence for a few minutes before Laney stood up and said, “Do you still think we should just sit around and wait for what happens next, Tony?”

  Candy looked from me to Laney and back again. “What’s going on? What are you two planning?”

  She didn’t say a word until we finished filling her in. She just stood there, with no expression on her face, as we talked. Explaining it to her made it sound even crazier than I’d thought. There was no way we could tell anyone else. I’m sure people would think I’d injured my head in the accident, and both Laney and Candy would wind up in straitjackets.

  But as crazy as it sounded, I felt we were on the right track. We didn’t have all the answers and explanations yet, but we were a lot closer than anyone else.

  “You know, I’m still not completely convinced,” she said finally, sitting down on the edge of my bed and taking my hand. “But I’ll go talk to the Sterlings. They go to my church, and my mom is friends with Mrs. Sterling.” She frowned. “Come to think of it, they weren’t in church this morning. That’s weird—the Sterlings never miss church, at least not that I can remember.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t go over there, Candy.” I squeezed her hand. “It might be dangerous.”

  “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. She looked me in the eyes and winked at me, and in that instant I knew I was in love with her.

  “I love you, Candy.” I heard myself saying the words.

  She gave me a brilliant smile. “I love you, too. That’s why I’ll be careful.” She stood up and walked over to the door. “You two be careful, too.” And she walked out.

  “You’re going to call Mr. Lockhart?” Laney asked as she stood up.

  “Yeah.” I swallowed. “I just hope we know what we’re doing.”

  Laney shrugged. “All we can do is pray, Tony.” She paused at the door and looked back at me. “I hope we’re wrong, but—” Her voice trailed off, and the door shut behind her.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling I would never see either of them again.

  I took a deep breath and picked up the phone off the nightstand, and started dialing.

  Chapter Twelve

  The temperature had dropped while Laney was in the hospital, and she shivered as she clicked her car door unlocked. The sky was cloudy and the wind was damp and cold. It’s going to rain, she thought as she slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door. She sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel.

  Tony doesn’t believe me, she thought, and the frustration almost overwhelmed her. She’d seen it in his eyes while they’d been talking. He wasn’t as willing to believe as he had been the day before. She needed to get proof, something concrete to convince him once and for all.

  But then the helpless feeling came back.

  What’s the point? What can HE do? None of us can stop her.

  She swallowed and started her car. It would take her half an hour at least to get home. As she headed for the parking lot exit, she remembered the town library was only about two blocks away. She turned right at the exit instead of left. The library has computers and Internet access. I can look everything up there, print it all out, and come right back to the hospital and convince him.

  She pulled into the almost empty parking lot of the Kahola County Free Library. It was a modest two-story red brick building with big windows and a wraparound porch. For about two years when she was a little girl, her mother would bring her to Story Hour every Saturday afternoon. And I don’t think I’ve been in here since, she thought with a pang as she climbed the steps from the parking lot. I don’t even have a library card.

  She shivered as the wind picked up again, and she pulled the door open. She stepped inside and smiled. The library hadn’t changed much since she was a little girl. There was a row of computers just off the main lobby, set up in study carrels. She took a deep breath and walked over to one. Before she sat down, she glanced around. Other than the woman at the check-out desk, who was putting books onto a cart, there was no one else she could see on the first floor. She sat down at the carrel farthest from the front door and pressed the spacebar on the keyboard. The computer asked for her library card number—so with an irritated sigh she went through the process of signing up for one. Once she had the number, she plugged it in and the computer came to life. She clicked on the browser icon.

  When it finished loading, she pulled up a search engine and typed in “Farmington, Illinois.” A few moments later a bunch of links came up, starting with a map of the town, which appeared to be about thirty miles southwest of Chicago. The third link was the Farmington Gazette. She clicked on it.

  While the newspaper’s website loaded, she leaned back in the chair.

  She didn’t want to think Glenn had anything to do with the three deaths, but she couldn’t help but wonder.

  Why can’t Tony see it? She crossed her arms and fidgeted. The website was taking forever to load. Does he not want to see it? I don’t want to think it, either. Glenn is a great guy. I wish—

  I wish I could have loved him.

  She remembered the first time she’d seen Glenn, with his endearing crooked smile. When Glenn smiled it was hard not to smile with him. He was so cute, with his round face and brown hair, the big wide brown eyes with thick lashes she envied, the dimples when he smiled, and his personality. He always could make her laugh, no matter her mood. They’d always had fun on their dates, but when he kissed her or touched her, she didn’t feel anything. Oh, her body reacted like it always did, but there wasn’t a spark, no electricity. He didn’t make her fingertips tingle.

  Then again, neither had Noah.

  No one ever had, besides Tony.

  She pushed that thought out of her mind.

  The website had finished loading. She examined the home page and found what she was looking for—the search option.

  She glanced over her shoulder before typing in “teenager deaths.”

  Now that the website had loaded, it now operated rapidly. A series of links showed up on the screen. The very first one was dated only three months ago—a student at Farmington High had been killed in a car accident. She looked at the next one. It was dated March of her sophomore year—when Glenn was still living in Farmington.

  She clicked on it. A few seconds later she saw herself looking at what was obviously the class picture of a blond girl who was beaming at the camera. She was kind of cute, with braces on her teeth and her head tilted slightly to one side.

  The headline read ANOTHER TEEN SUICIDE.

  She felt her blood run cold.

  She started reading.

  March 25. Stacy Bolton, 15, a sophomore at Farmington High School, is the latest in the string of suicides and accidents plaguing the town in the last month. According to Police Chief Chastain, Stacy hanged herself with a belt in her bedroom. Her older brother Jason found her when he came home from baseball practice.

  Stacy was a solid B student at FHS, and a member of the junior varsity cheerleading squad. She also belonged to the chorus, Swing Choir, and was recently voted into
the National Honor Society. She was a member of the Homecoming court last fall, and according to her friends was well-liked and cheerful.

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” said Lori Domenico, her teammate on the cheerleading squad. “I talked to her right before she went home. She was going to work on a paper for her European history class. She wasn’t depressed or anything. She was laughing and joking. I don’t know what could have happened between when I said good-bye to her when she got on her bus and…It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  Bolton is the third suicide and seventh death of a Farmington High student since March 1.

  After the first suicide earlier this month, the school board brought in grief counselors to help students deal with their shock and grief, as well as to try to head off copycat suicides. “There’s always a danger that other students will follow suit when one of their classmates commits suicide,” remarked Mark Drake, MPSW, one of the grief counselors working with the FHS student body. “But this is a very strange situation. Suicide followed by accidental death followed by suicide.”

  Services for Stacy Bolton will be at St. Timothy’s Church on Saturday at 1 p.m.

  She printed the page and returned to her original search.

  Suicide followed by accidental death followed by suicide, she thought as she clicked on the next article. Here it’s accident-suicide-accident. She chewed on a fingernail. Does Randy count as an accident or a suicide?

  She closed her eyes as they welled up with tears.

  She’d known Randy as long as she could remember—well, Zack and Noah, too. They’d all grown up together, going to Carterville Grade School and then South Kahola County Middle School before Southern Heights High. She wiped at her eyes but left them closed as memories of the dead boys flashed through her mind. She’d always liked Randy—she used to have a crush on his older brother when she was in middle school, the tall, handsome senior athlete. She’d never gone with Randy or Zack—Zack she’d never liked that much. His parents were so creepy—his dad always talking about God and sin and hell, his mother always wearing those dresses Laney’s mother called “Little House on the Prairie-style” and no makeup, never really talking much or saying anything, always deferring to her husband with downcast eyes.