He managed to sidestep Ryan’s fist, keeping his distance as they started down the sidewalk. Huge wet flakes fell lazily from the darkened sky, and as Jinx brushed them from his hair, Ryan stretched out one hand to catch a few on her mitten.
“Phoebe’s wrong about Charles,” she said again.
Jinx had a ready retort, but her troubled expression stopped him. “You’re still all hung up about what you thought he said to you. About Marissa, right?”
Ryan nodded, falling into step beside him. They walked slowly, and she turned her face up, loving the feel of snow on her cheeks.
“To tell you the truth, I’m not even sure now if he really said it or not. I keep thinking what you told me—”
“Me? What did I tell you? Something wise, I’m sure.”
Ryan nodded absently. “Well, why would he have said something so awful to me? It’s such a … cruel thing to do.” She thought a minute, glancing up at him. “He really is nice to Mom. Sweet and polite. It’s so weird … part of me wants to think he’s just a nice guy. And part of me keeps having this feeling he’s up to something.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“That’s just it, I don’t know.”
Jinx nodded amicably. “So what’s your plan?”
“What plan?”
“To get this guy out of your house.”
“I don’t have a plan.” Ryan made a face. “Mom wants him to stay, so I guess he’s staying.”
“Well, don’t blow this, McCauley. If you’re really nice to this guy, maybe you’ll end up at the dance after all.”
Ryan threw him an exasperated look. “And has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don’t even want to go to the dance?”
“Yeah.” Jinx gave a solemn nod. “Girls always say that when they haven’t been asked.”
Ryan tapped her foot impatiently as he opened her car door. “And I suppose you’ve got girls begging you to take them?”
“As a matter of fact—” Jinx began, but Ryan slid in and slammed the door. After going around to the other side, he climbed in and fixed her with a smug look. “As a matter of fact—”
“You can’t fool me,” Ryan said primly. “No girl in the whole school would be desperate enough to go out with you or your goofy friends.”
“You’re just jealous.” He stuck the key in the ignition and gave it a turn. “’Cause I’m popular, and you’re not.”
“Popular?” Ryan stared at him. “Excuse me, Jinx, I thought you said popular.”
Jinx managed to keep a straight face as he stared back at her. “Mystique, McCauley. It’s called ‘mystique,’ what I have.”
“It’s called ‘mistake,’ what you have,” Ryan corrected. “And besides, I hear little Tiffany Taylor has her eye on the junior class vice president.”
“So who cares about Tiffany Taylor anyway?” Jinx snorted.
“You do. So maybe I should talk to her, huh? And tell her what you’re really like—all the little things about you that I’ve known for years and years.…”
This time she got to him, as she knew she would.
“You know your problem, McCauley? You’re still mad ’cause I pulled your stupid doll’s head off when you were six years old.”
“And you’re still brain-damaged ’cause Phoebe and I held you down and tickled you till you cried and told your mom.” Ryan chuckled as he tried to ignore her. “I bet Tiffany would like to know about that. I bet she’d think it’s cute—”
“Cut it out, McCauley, you’re not—”
“Does she know how ticklish you still are? Maybe I should tell her that, hmmm?”
“Come on, now, quit fooling a—”
Too late Jinx tried to defend himself, but Ryan cornered him up against his door and mercilessly attacked his ribs.
“Cut it out, McCauley—I’m stronger than you—”
“Not when you’re laughing, you’re not—and—uh-oh—look at this—you’re blushing—”
“I am not! Come on, Ryan, stop it!”
“So much for mystique.” Ryan laughed as Jinx finally managed to grab her hands and shove her away. As he fumbled to put the car in gear, she settled back against the seat, enjoying his efforts to regain his dignity.
“No more favors for you,” he scowled, cool and in control again. “You’re too dangerous to ride with.”
“Your face is still red.”
“Shut up.”
By the time they reached the house, Jinx still wasn’t speaking to her, but Ryan finally coaxed a grudging wave from him as she ran up to the door. The house stood dark and silent against the wintry sky, and as Ryan let herself inside, she wondered where everyone had gone. Marissa’s room seemed even spookier as she paused in the doorway, as if every personal possession were waiting for its owner’s return. Ryan crossed to the window and looked out, resting her forehead on the cold, smooth glass. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
From somewhere outside came the honking of a car horn—not intermittently, but constant—as if someone was leaning on it and not letting up.
Jinx? Has he forgotten something and come back? Puzzled, Ryan scanned the yard below and the drive along the house. There were no cars that she could see, yet the honking continued, setting her nerves on edge. Irritated, she hurried downstairs and out onto the front porch, halting in dismay.
The front yard was deserted. There were no cars near the house or in the driveway leading to the road.
Ryan rubbed a chill from her arms and went back to the kitchen. Maybe I just missed it, maybe it was driving around back when I looked from upstairs—
After grabbing a flashlight, she stood nervously out on the back stoop and put shaking hands to her ears. She could still hear the monotonous honking—on and on—but there’s nobody here, I can hear it, but there’s absolutely nobody here—Slowly she followed the driveway behind the house, and as she quickened her pace, she suddenly knew where the sound was coming from.
The garage. And it’s coming from Marissa’s car.
With numb fingers Ryan scrabbled at the latch, then heaved the heavy door upward. In the darkness she could just barely see Marissa’s car along the far wall, and as she groped for the light cord which hung from the ceiling, she felt her heart turn to ice.
Is that someone bent over in the front seat? Leaning facedown on the steering wheel …
Ryan found the cord at last and gave it a jerk.
Nothing happened.
She yanked it again—again—but still the garage lay in darkness.
Like a statue, she stood rooted to the spot, her heart pounding, the sound of the horn going on and on, shrieking through her, every nerve ready to explode. She found the switch on the flashlight … felt her feet stumbling forward … saw the car getting closer … Her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom, and she tried to make out the shape on the front seat of Marissa’s car.…
The beam of her flashlight skittered over the windshield, casting pale, eerie shadows into the black interior.…
She saw the stiff upholstery … the dust on the dashboard … and it looks like a coffin, Ryan thought wildly, a gray-lined coffin all musty and stale and sealed tightly away.…
And then she saw the body.
Through a haze of disbelief, Ryan aimed the flash-light onto the driver’s side and saw the human figure slumped forward … the head propped on the steering wheel, its face hidden …
The long blond hair streaming over its back …
Wet hair—
And the red, red ribbons tangled in the matted curls—
Ryan tried to scream, but no sound came out. The weak beam of the flashlight began to tremble violently, crazy shadows in a macabre dance over the slumped body in Marissa’s car—
The body began to move.
Horrified, Ryan saw the shoulders pull slowly back … the head begin to lift sluggishly from the wheel—
“No!”
Springing back, Ryan heard the flashlight hit the floor, saw the crazy spin of li
ght and shadow as it rolled under the car. As she whirled around, the garage door crashed to the ground, leaving her in total darkness. Sobbing, she stumbled forward, running her hands frantically over the door, mindless of the splinters and cuts as she searched desperately for the latch. As her fingers closed over it at last, she gave a shove but nothing happened. Slamming her shoulder against it, she moaned and staggered sideways.
The car door squeaked slowly … slowly open.
Oh, no … God, no … help me—
In absolute terror Ryan flattened herself against the garage door. She could hear the footsteps now … dragging toward her across the floor … like something heavy … dead …
Like something inhuman.
“Marissa,” Ryan whispered, and she began inching along the door, praying the thing couldn’t hear her, wouldn’t find her, the relentless blare of the horn filling her head, disorienting her in the terrible darkness—
“Marissa,” she whispered again, “I didn’t mean it … I tried to hang on—I—”
From the other side of the garage Marissa’s car started up.
Stunned, Ryan realized she’d reached a corner, and she squeezed herself into it, trying to be invisible. She sank to the floor and felt a tiny breath of cold air seeping in under the door.
“Help me,” she murmured, and in that split instant she realized that something was near her—beside her in the dark—she could feel it—the darkness pulsating with its presence, its danger—
“Oh, God …” She put out her hand and felt heavy, wet fabric … damp human skin … icy cold …
Something slimy coiled around her neck …
Shrieking, Ryan’s head snapped back and hit the wall, and through the insane darkness, she saw a soft explosion of stars.
Chapter 6
Ryan? Can you hear me? Come on, open your eyes!”
As Ryan gasped and began to cough, she recognized Charles Eastman’s face bending over her. She was lying in the driveway, and as another fit of coughing seized her, Charles began thumping her back and rubbing her face with snow.
“Stop it!” Ryan could hardly speak for choking. “Stop doing that! Let me go!”
“Of course I’m not going to let you go,” Charles said patiently. “You’ll probably just fall down again.”
“What happened? What am I doing out here?”
“Why don’t you tell me? I opened the garage door, and you fell out. What’d you do—lock yourself in?”
“The car! Did you turn off the car?”
“What car? My car?”
“No—Marissa’s car! The motor—” Ryan struggled to sit up, and Charles obligingly slipped an arm beneath her back. “Someone was in there! Marissa! And she started the motor and I couldn’t breathe and she came after me—”
“Whoa, hold on a minute. You’re saying someone was in the garage with you?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Ryan shook her head desperately. “There was a body in the front seat, but it was her! I saw her hair and her ribbons—Oh, God!”
“What’s the matter?”
“She came after me—her clothes were wet—she put her ribbon around my neck—”
“There’s nothing around your neck.”
“But I felt it! Did you look for it? Did you look around?”
“Well, no.” Charles looked baffled. “Come on, Ryan, let’s get you inside. Lucky for you I started to put my car in here—”
“Lucky for me?” Ryan stared at him. “Lucky for me?” She struggled to push him away, then got clumsily to her feet, falling immediately into his outstretched arms. “Leave me alone!”
“Don’t be stupid. If you don’t let me help, then I’ll have to carry you.”
Ryan had no choice. She leaned heavily on Charles as he guided her back to the house, then she collapsed on the couch as he stood back to appraise the situation.
“You stay right here,” he ordered. “I’m going to fix you some good strong coffee.”
Ryan nodded vacantly, looking past him to one corner of the living room. “You got a tree,” she mumbled.
Charles shrugged, brushing it off. “I thought the place needed brightening up. I thought you needed brightening up.”
Ryan stared at him. “I didn’t imagine what happened out there.”
“I’ll get the coffee,” Charles said. “Then we’ll talk.”
Ryan must have dozed. When she opened her eyes again, Charles was standing over her with two steaming mugs, and she wondered how long he’d been watching her.
“Feel better?” he asked politely.
She gave a halfhearted nod, then ran her fingers cautiously back over her hair. “I hit my head against the door, I think. I was so scared—”
“What happened, did you lock yourself in? When I got there, the door was closed, and when I opened it, you fell right out.” Charles gave a grim smile. “Surprised me, I’ll tell you that.”
“Then you must have turned off the horn.” Ryan sighed, trying hard to think back, to remember every detail of what had happened.
“What horn?”
“The horn on Marissa’s car. It was stuck—that’s why I went out there. It was stuck, and when I looked in her car, I saw …” She hesitated, swallowing fear. It sounded so preposterous now, she could hardly bring herself to say it. “I saw … Marissa.”
“Marissa?” Charles’s glance was skeptical.
“Yes … I mean … it looked like her … her hair—her ribbons—”
“You saw her face?”
“No … the door fell and everything was so black—but she started to get up—I saw her! She started to raise her head and—and—”
“Take it easy.” Charles regarded her thoughtfully. “She started to, but you never actually saw anything.”
Ryan shook her head. “No. But she walked toward me. I felt her wet clothes … and her skin—”
“She touched you?”
“Well … not exactly. I sort of … touched her. Accidentally.”
“I see.”
“But the motor was running by then, and I was all confused—” Ryan was talking fast and Charles was just staring at her, saying nothing. “The horn wouldn’t stop, and I hit my head—” She broke off as he got up from his chair and walked slowly over to the tree. “You don’t believe me.”
He reached put and slowly stroked a branch. “When I got here, I brought the tree inside. Then I went to the garage. There wasn’t any horn honking … there wasn’t any car running. There wasn’t anyone—or anything—in there. Except you.”
Ryan stared at the cup in her hand. “It was real,” she whispered. “I couldn’t imagine something that horrible … could I?”
“Well …” Charles hesitated, his fingers caressing another branch. “It seems to be all tied up with Marissa somehow, doesn’t it? Maybe … if you talked about her, you’d feel better.”
Ryan’s voice grew defensive. “Talk about her how?”
“You know.” Charles sounded deliberately casual. “Your relationship, for example. Or … what you remember most about her. Or … what you remember about the time you spent with her before she died.”
Ryan’s throat closed up and she looked away. “There’s nothing to tell. We were … you know … just sisters.”
There was a long silence. Charles sat down on the floor beside the tree and looked at her. “So what’s it like, being just sisters? I’m an only child, so it’s always seemed special to me. You share a lot? Private jokes? Secrets?”
Ryan nodded. “Yes. Both. Sometimes.”
“And she probably confided in you a lot, I bet. Told you stuff she probably wouldn’t tell anyone else.…”
A flash of memory hit Ryan—that last day in the woods—the secret she’d sworn to keep but never knew—and her eyes brimmed. “Sometimes,” she murmured.
“She told me stuff, too,” Charles said, and Ryan glanced at him in surprise as he nodded. “Yes, she really did. We were really close friends. She told me lots o
f things about you.”
Ryan glanced away again, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. She didn’t want Charles to know anything about her. It made her feel violated somehow.
“She told me about your mom’s favoritism.” Charles leaned back against the wall and shook his head sadly as Ryan stared at him in disbelief. “I think she really knew you were always being overlooked, that she always got her way, while you just—”
“That’s not true!” Ryan said hotly. “Marissa was just the oldest, that’s all, she—”
“Ryan,” Charles said smoothly, his smile sympathetic, “you don’t have to pretend with me, Marissa told me everything. She thought you were really special, you know.”
Ryan felt trapped. She shifted on the couch and spilled coffee on her sweater. She dabbed at it with her sleeve.
“Your turn,” Charles said from his corner.
“My turn what?” Ryan said jumpily.
“I’ve told you things Marissa told me—now why don’t you tell me something she told you? We’ll trade.”
“I don’t want to trade.” Ryan set her mug down on the floor. “I want to go upstairs.”
“It might help, you know,” Charles said softly. When Ryan didn’t answer, he tried again. “Whatever happened out there tonight—maybe if you talked about her, all the ghosts would go away.”
“I don’t want to.” Ryan shook her head fiercely. “I don’t need to.”
She was almost to the door when his voice stopped her.
“But I need to.”
Surprised, Ryan faced him. He was gazing down into his cup, and his lips were pressed in a troubled frown.
“I need to, Ryan,” he said again, avoiding her eyes. “I need to know what her last day was like … her last hours. What she did … what she talked about …” His eyes raised at last as his voice lowered. “If she was happy.”
Again the memory came back—Marissa’s voice, her odd behavior. “I think I’m in trouble … serious trouble—”
“But it doesn’t matter now,” Ryan mumbled. “It doesn’t matter because she’s gone, and I’ll never know what she was talking about—”
Fatal Secrets Page 6
