The Lost Girl

by R. L. Stine

  My whole body shuddered. A cry escaped my throat. I couldn’t help myself. I was totally losing it.

  “Don’t you see?” I cried. “It was supposed to be me. I was supposed to die when the car went over the cliff. But it was Gabe instead. He … he wasn’t supposed to be there. It was supposed to be me. Do you know how horrible I feel?”

  Tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop my body from shaking. I saw that Pepper had turned away. She was crying, too.

  Dad turned on the couch and put his arms around me. He hugged me tightly, whispering, “Take it easy. Just take a breath. You’re okay.”

  Sure, I was okay. But I’d lost my best friend. And it was all my fault. If only we had gotten help for Angel and not run away.…

  It took a few minutes to get myself together. Pepper had her hands over her face. Her cap slipped and I saw an ugly red scab on the side of her scalp.

  “I don’t think I have anything more to say,” I told the two officers. “I’ve told you everything I know.”

  “Let’s talk about this guy Angel,” Gonzalez said. “First of all, what’s his last name?”

  Pepper and I stared at each other. “I don’t know,” we said in unison.

  “We don’t know anything about him,” Pepper said. “This girl who was with us that Saturday … She told us his name was Angel. She said he used to go to her old school, but he got kicked out for beating up some people or something.”

  “So he probably has a record,” Nova said. “We need his last name.”

  “Lizzy probably knows it,” I said.

  Gonzalez raised her eyes to me. “Lizzy?”

  I nodded. “Lizzy Walker. She was the one who recognized him in the snow that afternoon. And she was the first one he attacked.”

  “Lizzy Walker,” Nova murmured, typing. “We need to talk to her right away.”

  “Do you have a phone number for her?” Gonzalez asked.

  I swallowed. I thought hard. “No. No, I don’t. She … never called me. She said she didn’t have a phone. Couldn’t afford one.”

  Pepper squinted at me. “And she never called you on any phone or texted you?” Again, I heard the bitterness in her voice.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a phone number. She’s new. She just moved here. We’ve only known her for a couple of weeks.”

  “Email?” Nova asked.

  “No,” I said. “She never emailed me. I … I don’t have it.”

  Pepper stared at me suspiciously. Did she think I was lying? Covering up for Lizzy for some reason? “I’m telling the truth,” I said to her.

  “So you don’t have her phone or email,” Nova said. “Do you know where she lives?”

  “S-she said it was near here,” I stammered. “But … no. I don’t know her address.”

  They turned to Pepper. “Don’t look at me,” she said. “I was never invited to her house. Believe me. We weren’t friends.”

  Nova rubbed his goatee and studied Pepper. “Were you two enemies?”

  “No way,” Pepper answered quickly. She glanced at her father, who stood at the window watching in silence this whole time. “Michael and I … we were going out. Then Lizzy appeared and … started coming on to him. And … we broke up.”

  Nova nodded. “And she identified this guy Angel when he was lying there in the snow?”

  Pepper nodded. “She said he was a psycho. That he beat up a teacher at her old school. Shoved his head through a glass door.”

  Nova turned to Gonzalez. “We have to talk to this girl…” He glanced at his iPad. “… Lizzy Walker. Right away.”

  “We’ll get her contact information from the high school,” Gonzalez said.

  They both climbed to their feet. “We’ll find this Angel guy,” Gonzalez said.

  Mr. Davis stepped away from the window. He gestured to Pepper and me. “What should they do in the meantime? I mean, are they safe? Should we—?”

  “You can go back to school,” Gonzalez said. “We are going to set up a regular patrol there. But don’t stay out late. Don’t go out by yourselves. Try to stay in a group.”

  “Be careful,” Nova said. “be very careful.”

  32.

  It snowed nearly a foot on Friday night, the kind of snow that’s crusty and hard on top and makes great cracking sounds when you walk on it. When the sun came out, the snow made the whole town sparkle.

  Saturday afternoon I went to help out at Dad’s store. We rode there in near silence. The River Road had been plowed, but our car still slid as we curved uphill. Dad had his country music station on, and he turned it up loud, I guess so he wouldn’t have to talk to me.

  He didn’t even tell me that he got two awesome new Polaris Switchbacks in the store. I was dying to try one out. I mean, these beauties will go anywhere. They dominate.

  But I knew better than to even ask him. It was going to take a long time before he would ever trust me again. He’d been very quiet all week. He didn’t act angry or give me any long lecture or sit me down and have a man-to-man talk. He just said he was disappointed.

  Mom said he was more frightened than angry. Sure, he was upset that I didn’t confide in Mom or him, even when I was in major trouble. But Dad was grateful I was alive and okay. Both my parents realized how close I’d come to dying … and that the guy who deliberately caused the accident was still somewhere out there.

  The store was busy, mainly because everyone wanted to take advantage of the fresh snow. I worked the cash register in front for a while. Then I helped some new customers understand the difference between the sleds.

  I kept checking my phone. I thought maybe I’d hear from Lizzy. I hadn’t seen her or heard a word from her since that night at my house when she stole my mother’s ring.

  Should I have mentioned that to the police?

  It didn’t seem relevant. I mean, it didn’t have anything to do with finding Angel and capturing him. And, I guess I still had some kind of weird hope that she’d have an explanation for me. I couldn’t get that long kiss out of my mind … the way she held the back of my head and pressed herself against me so desperately …

  I didn’t want her to be a thief. I didn’t want to get her in trouble. I’m not the kind of guy who gets lost in all kinds of crazy daydreams. Ask anyone. They’ll tell you I’m totally down-to-earth, a no-nonsense type, I guess. But I had daydreams about Lizzy.

  In fact, I couldn’t get her out of my mind.

  So why wasn’t she getting in touch? Why hadn’t she come around? She must have heard about the accident? She must have heard about Gabe.

  A middle-aged couple, bundled up in matching blue down parkas and hoods as if we were in Alaska, rented a couple of the Arctic Cats. I took their credit card and swiped it through the machine. The man said something about this being their first time.

  I nodded but I barely heard him. I told myself to concentrate on the store. But that wasn’t easy.

  I returned home around five and found Diego and Kathryn waiting for me in the living room. Mom had given them hot chocolate with marshmallows on top, and they were seated side by side, white mugs between their hands, on the green couch.

  I tossed my coat on a chair and walked into the room. “Hey, what’s up?”

  Kathryn’s hair fell around her face, as if it hadn’t been brushed. She wore a blue-and-red ski sweater over a short blue skirt over black leggings. Diego was in a typical outfit for him, a huge maroon-and-gray Shadyside High sweatshirt and faded cargo jeans.

  “Your mom said you were at the store,” Kathryn said. “Everything okay?”

  I think Kathryn took Gabe’s death harder than any of us. I didn’t think they’d been that close. But it was the idea that someone we were close to, someone we saw every day, could suddenly be gone. Gone forever.

  Kathryn looked on the verge of tears. Diego had a hot chocolate mustache on his upper lip. He made no attempt to wipe it off.

  I dropped down in the armchair across from them. “The sto
re was crazy. You know. Fresh snow. Everyone wants to ride on it.”

  “The last time we were on snowmobiles was the last time we were happy,” Kathryn said, lowering her eyes to the hot chocolate mug in her lap.

  Diego slid his arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort her. “Did you hear any more about that creep?” he asked me. “Did the police find him? Have you heard anything at all?”

  I shook my head. “Not a word.”

  “What are we supposed to do while we wait?” Kathryn asked, her voice cracking. “I mean, are we supposed to pretend everything is okay? Are we supposed to act normal, as if a crazed lunatic isn’t out there, trying to kill us all?”

  I didn’t have a chance to reply. A loud knock on the front door made us all turn. I jumped up and hurried to the door. I gazed out the living room window but it was pretty much frosted over, so I couldn’t see who it was.

  Mom and I reached the door at the same time. I pulled it open and stared at a police officer. The sky had darkened to evening, and the porch light wasn’t on. It took me a few seconds to recognize Officer Gonzalez standing in the dark blue haze.

  She had her police cap on with earmuffs down, covering part of her face. “May I come in?”

  Mom and I stepped aside so she could enter. She stamped her snowy boots on the WELCOME mat. She pulled off her black gloves and stuffed them into the pockets of her coat.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she said.

  “Do you have news for us?” Mom asked.

  “Not really,” Gonzalez said. She saw Kathryn and Diego, standing tensely in the living room. “Oh, good. More of your friends are here.” She started toward them, and Mom and I followed.

  “Maybe one of you can give me some more information about this girl Lizzy Walker,” Gonzalez said.

  “Why?” I asked. “You said you were going to contact the school and—”

  Officer Gonzalez locked her eyes on mine. “The school has no record of a Lizzy Walker,” she said. “No record at all.”

  PART FOUR

  PRESENT DAY

  33.

  I woke up the next morning with Lizzy on my mind. My dream lingered with me. In the dream, I was talking to Lizzy on the phone. That was the whole dream. I could see both of us at the same time. It was like we were in the same room, but we were having this long phone conversation.

  As I blinked the sleep from my eyes, I couldn’t remember what we talked about. The dream began to fade away, and I sat staring at the flapping window curtains. My room was freezing cold. I didn’t remember leaving the window open.

  I glimpsed my phone, plugged into the charger on my desk across the room. Why hadn’t I ever talked to Lizzy on the phone? Why hadn’t we texted one another?

  She doesn’t have a phone, I remembered. She said she couldn’t afford one. I pictured her shoplifting food in the supermarket that day. “Maybe she’s poor,” I murmured to myself.

  But if she was poor, how could she live here in North Hills, the most expensive neighborhood in Shadyside?

  Or … maybe she doesn’t.

  I remembered how she refused to let me drive her home the other night. The first night she showed up at my house, she said she was lost. She lived only a couple of blocks away.

  She could have been lying. But … why? “Maybe she’s a runaway,” I told myself.

  Or maybe she’s crazy.

  She stole my mother’s ring and showed it off in school. That’s insane behavior. I pictured her pricking my finger with that pin that day in school. “We’re bloods now,” she said.

  We’re bloods—but I don’t know a single thing about her.

  I took a quick shower, still thinking about Lizzy. I pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and a sweater. I could smell coffee from the kitchen downstairs. And eggs. Mom liked to make scrambled eggs in the morning. I was pulling on my snow boots, thinking about the walk to school, when my phone dinged.

  A message. I picked it up and read the screen:

  Maybe you need driving lessons. Help prevent accidents.

  My mouth dropped open. Angel.

  I stared at the screen, gripping the phone close to my face. Was he going to write more?

  No. That was the only message.

  I jumped up with only one boot on. “Hey, Mom! Dad!” I shouted. I hobbled to the stairway. “Hey—look at this.”

  I made my way down to the kitchen. Dad was at the table, a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him, coffee mug nearly empty. Mom turned from the stove, a metal spatula in one hand. “Michael? What is it?”

  I showed them the text from Angel. They stared at it open-mouthed.

  “Maybe it can be traced,” Dad said. He tugged his phone from his pants pocket. “I have that cop Gonzalez’s direct number in my phone.”

  He punched in her number and waited. Shaking her head, Mom turned back to the eggs on the stove. Dad began telling Gonzalez about the text from Angel. I think she was giving him instructions on how to see if it could be traced to a phone number. Dad kept moving to different screens, but they all came up with one word: Blocked.

  Scowling, he handed me back my phone. “Yes, we’re all scared, Officer,” he said. “That psycho is still out there. Still threatening my son. Of course we’re scared.” He listened to her for a while. “You’re not reassuring me,” he said. “He’s still taunting. He’s still texting. He isn’t afraid of you. And you’ve made no progress at all.”

  She said something and then I heard her click off. Dad sat there, staring angrily at his phone.

  “Your eggs are getting cold,” Mom told him. “There’s nothing more you can do right now.”

  Dad muttered some words under his breath. Mom lowered a plate of eggs in my place at the table. I didn’t feel much like eating, but I didn’t want to start an argument about it. She takes her eggs seriously. So I sat there with one boot on and forced myself to eat as much as I could.

  Homeroom is at eight thirty, so I left the house a little before eight fifteen. It had started to snow again. There was already a fresh layer on top of the crusty snow that had already fallen. I crunched my way down the driveway and turned toward school. Across the street, Mr. Northrup’s SUV had about a foot of snow on its roof. Two young men were shoveling the driveway of the Millers’s house on the corner. The scrape of their shovels was the only sound except for the crunch of my boots as I made my way through the snow.

  Mission Street hadn’t been plowed yet. A single set of tire tracks dented the snow in the middle of the street. I didn’t see any cars moving up or down the street.

  Leaning into the blowing snow, I tugged my parka hood lower and trudged onto Park Drive. The wind howled through the wooded lot on the corner. I had my head down and didn’t see the person step out of the trees until I nearly walked right into her.

  Lifting my eyes, I saw a red parka. Then large snowflakes falling on black hair, loose about her face.

  “Lizzy!” I cried.

  34.

  I had this sudden weird feeling that she wasn’t real. That this was part of my lingering dream. She was a blur of red in the shimmering curtain of falling snow. Her head was uncovered, her hair flowing down the back of her parka, and her dark eyes seemed too large, too dark and too deep, peering so hard at me through the tumbling snowflakes.

  “Lizzy?”

  She grabbed my sleeve with a gloved hand. She was real. “Michael,” she whispered. “Michael.” She brushed snow from her hair with her free hand.

  “Lizzy, what are you doing here? Are you coming to school?” My voice was muffled by the heavy frigid air.

  She held onto my sleeve. Her breath steamed against my face. “Michael, you have to help me.” Those amazing eyes pleaded with me.

  “Help you? Lizzy, the police—they’re looking for you.”

  She didn’t react to my words. “It’s Angel, Michael. You have to help me. He’s not through killing. He says you have more friends. He cannot let them live. He—he’s so sick. He says that he’s going to kill me.�
�� She pressed her cold cheek against mine. “Help me. Please.”

  “I can’t help you,” I said. “I’m frightened, too.” I put my hands on the shoulders of her parka and pushed her back a few inches. “Lizzy, listen to me. You have to go to the police.”

  “I-I can’t,” she stammered. She wiped snow from her forehead.

  “You have to,” I insisted. “They’re looking for you. They’ll help protect you and everyone else.”

  She shook her head violently. Her expression became angry. “Don’t be stupid, Michael. If I talk to the police, Angel will kill me. I know he will.”

  “But what can I do?” I said. “You have to help the police find him.”

  “No!” she cried. She grabbed my arm again and squeezed it hard. “We’re bloods, remember? We’re bloods. You gave me your ring, Michael.”

  “Whoa. Wait a minute,” I said. “That ring—”

  I couldn’t finish. She grabbed the back of my head and pulled me to her. She pushed her lips against mine and kissed me, a desperate kiss that seemed like an attack. Her lips were surprisingly warm.

  I tried to push back, but I came under her spell again. I couldn’t resist her. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to kiss her and kiss her. When she held me like that, I couldn’t think straight. Like I lost my mind. Like I lost all sense. Like my brain was hijacked and I was floating off the ground and had left the real world behind.

  She held me tighter and pressed her body against mine. I raised my hands and buried my fingers in her silky, dark hair.

  When the kiss finally ended, we were both shivering, breathing hard, our breath puffing together into small clouds.

  I swallowed. I could still taste her lips on mine.

  “What do you want me to do, Lizzy?” The words burst out of me as if I wasn’t saying them. “What do you want? I’ll do anything for you.”