“This guy we saw yesterday,” Scotty explained, continuing before she could interrupt him again. “It’s all over the news. A neighbor found his wife and two little girls shot to death in their beds,” he wheezed, looking as if he may faint dead away. “This morning!”
Cindy inhaled sharply. “What! Where?”
“Here in town!”
Boone changed the channel and turned it up. “Here it is!”
Gavin stared at the TV, face warping when he saw a picture of the realtor from that cursed house yesterday. This time, the man was wearing a Polo shirt with the company’s logo on it and smiling widely for the camera. The news anchor filled in the details over another cheery picture of the man on a boat with sunglasses pushed up on his swept back salt and pepper hair. A news ticker scrolled across the bottom of the screen: Police Search For Local Realtor Who Slaughtered Family Overnight.
“The cops are looking all over town for him,” Scotty panted, taking a moment to gauge their twisted expressions. “He’s on the lamb!”
Gavin rubbed his neck like it was starting to hurt for real, staring at the TV through vacant eyes. “I-I can’t believe it.”
Cindy cocked her head to one side, bewilderment welling in her eyes. “How do you know this man?”
No one answered. Her voice, at this point, was nothing more than an annoying gnat buzzing around their ears.
“Gavin, answer me!”
Boone began pacing the room, his shadow matching him stride for stride. “Maybe he was behind on his mortgage and decided to take the easy way out.”
Gavin turned to Scotty. “Did you tell Pincher yet?”
“I couldn’t! My mom was on the phone forever and wouldn’t get off. She kept throwing shoes at me.” Scotty paused for a gulp of oxygen that lifted his chest. “That’s why I rode over here as fast as I could. Try calling him!”
Gavin was already a step ahead, punching buttons on a cordless phone as the smell of burnt cookies wafted into the room. On cue, the smoke alarm went off in the kitchen, sending Cindy into a frenzied panic. Putting the phone to an ear, Gavin plugged a finger in the other as the alarm blared its incessant warning for the entire building to hear. Suddenly, the alarm stopped, making the busy signal extra loud in his ear.
Hesitantly, he hung up. “It’s busy.”
Boone frowned at him and there was no hiding the disdain in his voice. “Don’t they have call waiting?”
Vehemently, Scotty shook his head. “They’re totally old school,” he breathed out, looking at Gavin. “Maybe he’ll star 69 you and call back.”
“This is insane!” Gavin watched his brother wear out the carpeting, mind scrambling for traction.
“Tell me about it!” Scotty wrung his hands. “We just saw that guy yesterday and now he’s a wanted murderer.”
Gavin looked up with a drawn face, hands balling into fists. “Maybe we should tell the police about yesterday.”
Scotty’s face melted down the collar of his Nirvana hoodie. “The police? No way, Gav!”
“It might give them something to go on!”
“Gavin, if my mom finds out I was messing around in another scary house, I’ll get grounded for the rest of my life.”
“Yeah but maybe he went back to that house. Maybe he’s there right now and they could catch him.”
“The realtor?” Boone stopped pacing. “Why would he go back to that house?”
“I don’t know,” Gavin shrugged. “Maybe to hide out from the cops.”
“No cops, Gav.”
Gavin sighed. “Let’s go see what Pincher thinks.”
Boone screwed his face up. “Who cares what Pincher thinks? There’s a murderer on the loose!”
“That’s exactly why you need to drive us over there; it’s too dangerous on bikes. Plus, Scotty’s about to go into cardiac arrest.” Gavin grabbed the remote from Boone and turned off the TV, silencing the red-haired reporter standing in front of a taped off two-story house on the north side of town.
“Are you crazy?” Boone snatched the remote back from him. “I’m not going to Pincher’s house! Screw him.”
“Boone,” Gavin started in a calm voice, “do you want your little brother to get killed by some maniac? It’ll take us forever to ride way over there. And besides, this will help take your mind off Brenna.”
Stubbornly, Boone shook his head no.
Gavin lowered his voice to a whisper. “If you don’t give us a ride over there, I’m telling Mom about the eviction notice. Pincher is a part of this craziness and he deserves a say about whether or not we go to the cops.”
Pressing his lips together, Boone hung his head and sighed. “Alright but we don’t tell Mom – or the cops – anything about that house,” he said, tossing the remote on the couch. “She’ll freak out if she knows you were in there with that guy yesterday.”
Scotty nodded fast. “That’s a good plan, Boone.”
Cindy popped back into the room with oven mitts on both hands and a frown etched into her face. “Now, who is this man is that killed his family?” she asked, staring at the darkened TV.
Smiling sheepishly, Scotty fanned a hand through the air at her. “Oh, wrong guy. Sorry, Cindy.”
Her eyes pinched together. “Wrong guy?”
“I thought it was this guy who came to our school for career day, but it wasn’t,” Scotty calmly explained, wiping sweat from his brow. “Shwew!”
Cindy examined his blotchy face, jaw dangling. “But you said you saw him yesterday, which was Saturday.”
“Oh!” he laughed nervously, trading an impatient look with Gavin. “I meant Friday.” He dismissed his own stupidity with a quick shake of his head. “Now that I’m older, the time goes by so fast.”
She stared at him with the smell of burnt chocolate chip cookies hanging in the air. “God, Scotty, don’t do that to me!”
“Sorry, that’s my bad, Cindy. Total mix up.”
Sighing, she gave Gavin a doubletake. “No more horror movies for you boys. You should’ve heard Gavin screaming in his sleep last night.” She glanced down the hallway as if she just heard something in one of the bedrooms. “I thought somebody was in his room.”
“So did I,” Gavin whispered, throwing his coat on and racing down the hall to retrieve the camera from his bedroom. After yesterday, he wasn’t going anywhere without it. Not while it still had five shots left in the chamber.
Pulling the oven mitts off, Cindy set her hands on her slender hips and studied Scotty through suspicious eyes. “So, I take it you got your bike fixed then.”
Scotty tilted his head to one side and wrinkled his brow. “Huh?”
Chapter Nine
Paranormal Waldo
The front door opened and the older woman’s face sagged at the sight of the three boys gracing her doorstep. Pasty jowls merged with the folds in her neck while a pink house robe flapped with the October breeze, outlining her protruding belly. “Hello, boys,” she smiled warmly, tightening the robe and glancing at the Camaro Rally Sport parked in the street.
“Hi, Mrs. Morris,” Gavin said, wringing his hands. “Is David around? We tried calling but it’s been busy.”
“Oh yes, I was talking long-distance to my sister in California. They’re having just terrible weather right now, but I’m afraid David is a little under the weather today,” she said, eyes drawing to Boone. “Are you boys ready for Halloween tomorrow?”
They nodded impatiently.
“What are you going as?”
Gavin sighed, signaling his indifference with a monotone reply. “A pirate.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oooh, that’s nice.”
“I’m going as the old guy from Jurassic Park,” Scotty blurted. “My dad dropped fifty bucks at Kmart last week.”
“Oh my!” she said with a laugh. “That sounds very exciting.” She looked at Boone next, eyebrows rising in anticipation.
The hint of a sneer curled Boone’s upper lip. “I’m going as a teenager who’s too old to b
e trick-or-treating.”
She laughed even harder. “Well, that sounds like a lot of fun! I sure hope David is feeling better by tomorrow night; he has the cutest little mad scientist costume you ever saw.”
Pincher’s dad yelled something in the background.
“In the top drawer, Russell! Same place it’s been for the last thirty years.” Turning back to them, she rolled her eyes. “Man would lose his head if it weren’t attached at the neck.”
Gavin frowned at her. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Well, he’s old, Gavin. He doesn’t know what day it is most of the time. Last week he defecated in a laundry basket.”
“No, I mean what’s wrong with Pincher.”
“Oh!” Her laughter returned in full force, belly jiggling. “He’s got some bug that’s just zapped the living daylights out of him, but nothing that some good rest and warm orange juice can’t fix.”
“Warm orange juice?” Boone said, scrunching his nose up.
Scotty tilted his head to one side. “What’s defecated mean?”
Gavin elbowed him back. “Can we just talk to David for a minute? It’s important.”
Pincher’s dad shuffled past in the background, suspiciously eyeballing them over a pair of bifocals with a signature bottle of root beer clutched in a wrinkled hand.
A gust ran up Mrs. Morris’ legs, lifting the robe. “Not today, boys,” she said, pushing the pink fabric back down. “I don’t want you getting sick too. You don’t want to miss trick-or-treat tomorrow night, do you?”
“We’ll be super quick,” Boone added, hands clasped behind his back like he was on official business.
Scotty nodded his unwavering agreement. “It’s a matter of life and death, Mrs. M.”
“Pinch has the key to my bike lock and my bike’s chained to a pole.” Gavin paused. “At the mall!”
Ruefully, Boone and Scotty shook their heads in sympathy of Gavin’s unfortunate dilemma.
“At the mall?” Pincher’s mom frowned. “Why is it locked to a pole at the…”
“We got ran off by some bullies,” Gavin said, pushing past her and stepping into the living room where the Cowboys game was turned up loud. Without slowing, he gave Pincher’s dad a weak wave. “Hi, Mr. Morris.”
Pulling a newspaper down at one corner, the old man studied Gavin over the bifocals resting on the tip of his nose. “Gavin,” he said, shaking the paper out and leaning back into his favorite recliner.
Mrs. Morris stepped aside. “Okay well, just make it real quick; I don’t want you boys getting the whole town sick.”
Scotty checked his Jurassic Park watch and followed Boone inside, where the smell of chicken noodle soup mixed with a fruity Glade Plugin. The trio whisked past an overflowing bookcase, careful not to rock a collection of Precious Moments figurines perched atop. A cat with long, white hair affectionately curled around Scotty’s legs, following him to the staircase across the room. Taking the carpeted steps two at a time, they hurried down the hallway and stopped in front of Pincher’s closed bedroom door. They stared up at a poster of a black cat with green eyes and Happy Halloween! hovering in a speech bubble overhead.
“Maybe we should be wearing surgical masks,” Scotty whispered in the faint light streaming through a window at the end of the hall. “In case he has the bird flu or something. I don’t want to get sick. My costume is sweet this year!”
Boone snorted his amusement. “Humans rarely contract that disease.”
“Yeah, but maybe it’s a mutated strain.” Scotty inhaled a deep breath of stale air. “Did you know that human infection with bird flu is fatal in approximately sixty percent of all cases?”
Pursing his lips, Boone stared hard at him. “What is wrong with this kid?”
Gavin stepped forward and boldly knocked on the door. They traded glances, straining to hear over the TV downstairs. It was quiet in Pincher’s room and Gavin wondered if he’d already snuck out his bedroom window and shimmied down the weeping willow out back. He probably heard about the realtor and rode his bike to Scotty’s house when his mom wouldn’t get off the phone.
Scotty tipped his head back and fired off four dainty sneezes in a row. “Stupid cat,” he panted, sneezing three more times. Slowly looking up, he stared at them through bloodshot eyes, lungs struggling for breath. “Look away; I’m changing,” he whispered, firing off two more quiet sneezes while Boone and Gavin stood and watched. Hunching his shoulders, tears streamed over the apples on his cheeks. Shallow breaths pumped his chest. Turning to them with a twisted rage swimming in his watery eyes, he spoke in a guttural growl. “Ruuun.”
Gavin’s eyebrows went up. “Finished?”
Scotty shrugged weakly. “Maybe.”
“You sneeze like a chipmunk.”
“You sneeze like a chipmunk, Boone!”
Thrusting a hand out, Boone seized Scotty by the neck and lifted him to his toes. “Come again?”
“I meant a wolf,” Scotty choked, wrestling with Boone’s grip. “A dire wolf!”
Boone dropped him back to the carpet and brushed his hands together. “Now, open the door already. This place smells like a nursing home.”
Holding a finger up, Scotty tipped his head back and closed his eyes before shutting his mouth and groaning. “Dang, I lost it,” he said, wiping his nose with a sleeve. “I hate it when that happens.”
Pincher’s dad yelled something about the President and his wife responded from the kitchen with an automatic uh-huh as Gavin turned the glass knob and pushed. The door swung into the room with a low groan, revealing Pincher sitting at the foot of his bed with his back to them.
“Hey Pinch,” Gavin whispered, squeezing into the stuffy room. “It’s us.”
Scotty and Boone exchanged nervous glances before following inside. The bedroom window was shut and the stench of dirty socks permeated the warm air. From posters tacked to the walls, disheveled members of Nirvana and Soundgarden watched them tiptoe across the worn carpeting. Gavin’s eyes went from a blue electric guitar leaning in one corner to a scratched-up metal detector in another. Scotty shut the door behind them and took a moment to admire a long door poster of Pamela Anderson pinned to the back.
“Pinch?” Gavin whispered, forcing his Converse to keep moving.
Ignoring him, Pincher stared quietly out a window with his shoulders slumped.
“Pincher,” Scotty whispered, traversing the carpeting like it was a sheet of ice. “Did you hear about the realtor we saw in that scary house yesterday? He killed his entire family!”
“Keep it down,” Boone whispered, unbuttoning his jean jacket.
Gavin went around the end of the bed and came to an abrupt halt. Fear seized his poor heart with brittle hands and he wondered how much more it could take. The black circles ringing Pincher’s eyes contrasted sharply with his pallid skin and bloodstained lab coat. Staring blankly at the tall weeping willow out back, he absentmindedly turned a Phillips screwdriver in one hand.
“What’s wrong with him?” Boone asked, coming around the bed.
“He’s gone mental.” Scotty backpedaled and tripped over a skateboard missing two wheels, nearly falling to his butt.
Hesitantly, Gavin waved a hand in front of Pincher’s distant gaze. “Hey, are you okay?”
Pincher stared past him, turning the screwdriver, face void of expression. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered bleakly.
Gavin looked back at the others, brow creasing. “What doesn’t matter?”
“Everything.”
Taking a brave breath, Gavin shook his arm. “Pinch? Hey, you in there?”
Pincher’s vacant eyes slid to him, making Gavin’s skin crawl. He stopped turning the screwdriver and spoke in a low whisper. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Mind racing, Gavin started to reply but stopped when Pincher returned his attention to the tree in the backyard and started turning the tool in his hand again.
“Holy crap-buckets,” Scotty gasped. “He’s turning into a z
ombie! He’s infected.”
Keeping his distance, Boone folded his arms across his denim jacket like he was suddenly cold. “Infected with what?”
Pressing up against a wall, Scotty glanced at the bedroom door, looking like he might make a break for it at any second. “With whatever made that realtor kill his wife and kids!”
Boone stepped back. “What’re you talking about?”
Gavin’s eyes snagged on a huge pickle jar of coins sitting atop a dresser across the room. His eyes got big as saucers as the pieces started coming together in his mind. “The penny,” he whispered.
Scotty inhaled sharply, coiling his hair into his fists. “That makes total sense! The realtor took one too, even though there was only one penny to take.” He dropped his hands to his sides and blew out a long breath. “Thank God, I put that other stuff back!”
Gavin felt dizzy on his feet. A colorful picture of The Lion King above the dresser began to bleed together. His cheeks flushed with heat and the room started to spin around him in a blur, rising a little higher on one side than the other.
“Come on,” Boone said with a nervous laugh. “That’s impossible.”
Scotty’s voice dropped to a dead serious level. “You mean impossible like the framed picture of your car hanging on the wall of an abandoned house?”
Boone’s smile faltered. Shutting his mouth, he said nothing back because there was nothing to say. There was no argument to wage against the horrid truth staring them in the face. He watched Pincher mindlessly turned the screwdriver in his hand like he was loosening the world’s longest screw. Running a hand through his hair, Boone pulled his bangs into a side part. “Let’s get out of here before we get it too.”
“Put the screwdriver down, Pinch,” Scotty said, grabbing the metal detector and cocking it back like a baseball bat.
Gavin watched Pincher stare blankly out the window. It looked like his friend, but it wasn’t, and that screwdriver made him edgy. Blinking a greasy film from his eyes, Gavin licked his dry lips. “Maybe we could put it back.” His voice sounded like it was coming from the other end of a long tunnel, so he tried speaking louder. “If it was the penny, maybe we could put it back and it would make him normal again.”
Scary House Page 7
