Authors: R.L. Stine
Bad Moonlight (10 page)
“You jerk!” he cried. He reached behind himself and struggled to pull the napkin out.
Aunt Margaret pulled it out for him. “Cliffâout!” she ordered, rolling her eyes at Danielle. “Go out in the yard and work off some of that energy while I talk to your sister.”
“There's nothing to do out there,” Cliff complained.
Aunt Margaret sighed. “Cliff, you built a fort out of cardboard boxes yesterday. Don't tell me you're tired of it already.”
“Oh, rightâthe fort,” Cliff remembered. “Okay. I'm outta here.” He dashed out the back door, making machine-gun noises as he left.
Danielle stacked their lunch plates and carried them to the dishwasher. It felt good to be back in her own house, especially the kitchen. She loved the big square room with its cream-tiled floor, round oak table, and hanging plants in the window over the sink.
“Now,” Aunt Margaret coaxed, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Tell me what's troubling you.”
Danielle poured soap powder into the dishwasher.
“I've just been feeling so strange,” she replied. “And I keep having these horrible fantasiesâpeople fighting, tearing each other to bits. Dying!”
She slammed the dishwasher closed and turned it on. “I love being in the band, and I hate to let the others down. But maybe I should quit.”
Aunt Margaret raised a heavily penciled eyebrow. “You're not a quitter, Danielle.”
“I know!” Danielle cried. “But I keep thinking if I went to college now, instead of next year, then maybe things would change.”
Aunt Margaret blew on her coffee and took a sip. A film of bright red lipstick came off on the cup. “Here's what I think,” she announced. “You should take it easy for a while. When's your next show?”
“In a couple of days.”
“Good. Then you'll have some time to clear your mind,” Aunt Margaret declared. “Of course, you'll have to rehearse. But no traveling. So do some shopping, go to the movies, sleep till noon if you want. Then see how you feel.”
“I already know how I feel!” Danielle exclaimed. “Scared. No, not scaredâterrified! Aunt Margaret, these fantasies keep getting more and more violent. And I keep thinking about Mom and Dad. A lot.”
“Didn't Dr. Moore say that was to be expected?” Aunt Margaret asked. “That it would take time to get over what happened?”
“Yeah, but it's taking too much time,” Danielle insisted. “I don't just miss them, Aunt Margaret. I
could stand that, I guess. But I keep seeing themâpicturing the car flying off the cliff. Why? Why can't I get it out of my mind?”
Aunt Margaret frowned sadly and shook her head.
“Tell me again about the accident,” Danielle begged. “I want to know exactly what happened. I want to know every single detail. Maybe I need to keep hearing about it until I'm sick of it or something.”
Aunt Margaret clicked her tongue. “It isn't good to keep dwelling on these things.”
“Butâ”
“No
buts.”
Aunt Margaret crossed to Danielle and put her arm around her. “I'm no expert, but I simply can't believe that hearing about your parents' accident over and over again is going to help you one bit.”
Was she right? Danielle wondered. Maybe. But
not
hearing about the accident wasn't helping, either. She couldn't stop thinking about it, no matter how hard she tried.
“Oh, look at the time!” Aunt Margaret exclaimed. “I've got laundry to fold and errands to run, and it's already two o'clock.”
“I'll fold the laundry,” Danielle offered.
“Absolutely not! I forbid you to do anything but relax and enjoy yourself.” Aunt Margaret squeezed Danielle's shoulder. “It'll be the best thing for you.”
“I hope you're right.”
“Of course I'm right, young lady!” Aunt Margaret said sternly. “Now. Didn't you and Caroline make plans to go to a movie later?”
Danielle nodded.
“Good. Why don't you go out on the patio and relax until it's time to go.” Pushing back her dyed red hair, Aunt Margaret bustled out of the kitchen.
Danielle rinsed out the coffee cup and wiped off the table. She glanced out the window. Clear and sunny. But she didn't feel like sitting on the patio.
She didn't feel like going to the movies, either.
Caroline would understand. She knew what Danielle was going through.
Danielle wiped her hands on the dishtowel and reached for the wall phone next to the refrigerator.
Aunt Margaret's voice came over the line. Danielle started to apologize, but Aunt Margaret must not have realized that Danielle had picked up the extension.
Before Danielle could hang up, she heard her own name.
“It's Danielle,” Aunt Margaret declared to someone on the other end of the line. “I'm very worried about her.
Very
worried!”
A pause. Then Danielle heard the second voice.
“Come over right now. We must talk about her,” the voice insisted. “I'm worried, too.”
Danielle stared at the phone in shock.
The second voice belonged to Dr. Moore.
“C
ome to my office right now,” Danielle heard Dr. Moore repeat.
“I'll be there in fifteen minutes,” Aunt Margaret replied. Danielle heard a click as her aunt hung up the receiver.
Stunned, Danielle hung up too. She stared blindly at the telephone, her thoughts racing.
She had no idea that Aunt Margaret ever talked to Dr. Moore. Had she been talking to him all along, ever since Danielle started seeing him? They sounded as if they'd spoken before.
Aunt Margaret thinks I'm getting worse, Danielle thought.
The sound of heels clicking down the hall made
Danielle jump guiltily away from the phone. When Aunt Margaret entered the kitchen, she found Danielle peering into the refrigerator.
Aunt Margaret clicked her tongue. “I thought I told you to go outside and relax in that sunshine.”
“I am. I'm just getting something to drink.” Danielle grabbed a Coke and turned around. Her aunt was ready to go, a big purse slung over her shoulder and her lipstick freshened.
She looks really tense, Danielle thought. “Did you fold the laundry already?”
“The laundry can wait,” Aunt Margaret declared. “I want to get to that white sale at Brady's. Everything is probably picked over by now, but maybe I'll get lucky.”
“Sure,” Danielle said. “See you later.”
“You relax,” Aunt Margaret called back over her shoulder as she hurried out of the room.
When Danielle heard the front door slam, she sank down on the nearest chair. She shut her eyes, tried to stop the room from spinning.
Aunt Margaret had lied to her!
After her parents' accident, her aunt had moved all the way across the country to take care of Danielle and Cliff. Aunt Margaret had always been there whenever they needed her.
Danielle trusted her.
Until now.
Aunt Margaret hid the fact that she talked with Dr. Moore about Danielle.
Was she hiding other things?
Danielle rose from the table and gazed out the kitchen window. Cliff and his friend from down the street were playing in the cardboard fort. They'd be at it for hours.
Danielle had the house to herself.
Time to find out if Aunt Margaret had any other secrets.
Danielle stuck the Coke back in the refrigerator and crept out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
Her aunt's room overlooked the front yard. The door was closed.
You shouldn't do this, Danielle scolded herself. Aunt Margaret deserves her privacy.
But I deserve to know if I can trust her.
She turned the knob and pushed the door open.
The small room used to be the guest room. Her aunt refused to take over Danielle's parents' bedroom. That was one of the things Danielle loved about her.
Danielle crossed the room and started with the desk.
The shallow top drawer held pens and pencils, scissors, rubber bands.
The second drawer contained checks and stubs of paid bills, a box of stationery.
Danielle moved down to the third drawer. Deep, with folders jammed in tightly. She pulled one out. Yellowed recipes clipped from magazines and newspapers.
Another folder held blank typing paper. A third was
filled with
Consumer Reports
articles about computers. Cliff wanted one for his birthday, Danielle remembered. Aunt Margaret obviously wanted to find the best one.
Danielle searched through folder after folder, but found nothing interesting or surprising. No secrets.
Good, she thought. Now put this stuff back and get out of here before you get caught.
As she gathered a stack of folders, something on the bottom of the drawer caught her attention.
An envelope, way at the back. Danielle dropped the folders and carefully pulled it out.
The envelope contained a wrinkled newspaper clipping. Dated two days after Danielle's parents had been found dead.
The headline leaped out at her:
CAUSE UNKNOWN IN MYSTERIOUS DEATH OF SHADYSIDE COUPLE.
A mysterious death? Danielle's hands started shaking so badly she was afraid she'd rip the paper. Her parents' death wasn't a mystery! They died in a car accident!
Or did they?
Was this another secret? Another lie from Aunt Margaret?
Danielle crossed the room and sat down in the rocking chair. She didn't want to read the story, but she had to. She had to find out what really happened to her parents.
Smoothing the paper out on her knees, she began to read:
The bodies of Shadyside residents Michael and Abigail Verona were discovered early Wednesday morning in a rock-strewn ravine twenty miles from town. The couple had been returning to Shadyside in their car.
It is thought that a flat tire caused them to stop. What happened after that remains a mystery to local police.
All that is certain is that they were clawed to death, their bodies torn apart.
When questioned by reporters, a highway patrolman on the scene stated grimly, “It looks like the work of a wild animal.”
