Broken Hearts (16 page)

Erica glanced quickly around the bedroom. “Rachel?”

No Rachel.

“Hey! Where'd you go?” The tremble in Erica's voice revealed her fear. “Rachel? Where'd you go? You weren't supposed to move!”

Feeling the beginnings of panic, Erica ran out of the room and down to the landing.

Wrapping one hand around the banister railing, she stared down the stairs to the front hall.

“Rachel?”

No reply.

Then to her horror Erica saw that the front door was wide open.

“R
achel? Rachel?”

Leaning against the banister, Erica bounded down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

What is Rachel's
problem?
she thought angrily as she pushed the storm door open with both hands and raced outside.

She
knows
she isn't allowed out without someone to watch her. Why is she so
odd
today?

“Rachel? Rachel?”

Swirling winds made the fat brown leaves dance across the front yard. The sky was nearly as dark as night.

“Rachel? Are you out here?”

Across the street, Erica could see Luke's car parked in Melissa's driveway. She felt the pain in her side again and shivered, chilled by the cold, swirling winds.

“Rachel? It's going to storm!”

Where is she? Am I going to have to call the police?

No.

Rachel poked her head out from behind the gnarled trunk of a wide, old maple tree. “Hi, Erica.” She stepped away from the tree, a pleased smile on her face.

“Rachel!” Erica shrieked angrily, her heart pounding in her chest. “What are you
doing
out here?”

Rachel came toward Erica, walking slowly, steadily, her long hair fluttering in the wind behind her like a copper-colored sail. “Did I scare you, Erica?” she asked, her grin widening.

“Huh?” Erica stared at her sister, startled.

“Did I scare you?” Rachel repeated, her green eyes sparkling with gleeful excitement. “Did I
really
scare you?”

Erica stared back at her sister, dread forming in the pit of her stomach. She shivered. From the cold? Or from the evil glee on Rachel's face?

“Did I scare you, Erica?”

What goes on in that mind of yours, Rachel, Erica wondered.

Erica put her arm around her sister's shoulders and gently guided her back into the house. As they entered the hallway, Rachel started to laugh. A dark, chilling laugh.

What do you know, Rachel? Erica wondered, staring intently at her sister. Do you know a lot more than you let on?

♦ ♦ ♦

“Here, look at this,” Melissa said. “Just read it.” She pushed the card at Luke with a trembling hand.

It was Monday afternoon after school. Melissa had been home only long enough to open the new valentine and read it before Luke pulled into the drive.

Now, his coat still on, his red and white wool muffler still wrapped around his neck, he gazed at the card she had given him, waiting for his eyes to focus on the handwritten message.

Flowers mean funerals

Flowers mean death.

On Valentine's Day

You'll take your last breath.

He stared at the card, crinkling his eyes thoughtfully as if studying each word. Then he handed it back to Melissa, his expression one of concern. “You're upset?”

“I'm scared,” she said flatly.

He started to unwrap the muffler. “It's probably a joke.”

“It wasn't a joke for Josie,” Melissa shot back.

He tossed the coat and muffler onto the banister and tugged at the bottom of his sweater. She led him into the kitchen. “Want some hot chocolate?” she asked, biting her lower lip. She reached for the tea kettle.

“Maybe you should call the police,” he suggested, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black jeans.

“Maybe,” Melissa replied, filling the kettle.

“Did you show the cards to your parents?” Luke asked, stepping up to the sink beside her.

Melissa nodded. “They think it's just a joke. A
really sick joke. Mom reminded me to keep the doors locked at all times, and to call the police at the slightest sound.”

She put the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner. Then she turned to him, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him. “Happy Birthday,” she said when the kiss had ended. She licked her lips.

“It isn't my birthday,” Luke replied.

She chuckled. “So?”

He suddenly became very serious. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Hey, I just got an idea.”

The kettle started to rumble quietly.

“What kind of idea?” Melissa demanded.

“About the valentines,” Luke said, carefully replacing his glasses. “Dave sent the ones last year, right? The ones to Josie.”

“Yeah. Of course,” Melissa replied impatiently.

“Well, do you think he's sending these cards to you?”

“Huh?” Melissa's mouth dropped open. She pulled at a strand of black hair. “Dave? Why?”

“I don't know why,” Luke said patiently. “I just wonder if he's the one sending the cards. They sound just like the ones Josie got last year.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Melissa said. The kettle started to whistle. She grabbed the handle and lifted the kettle off the burner. “So what's your idea?” She pulled two white mugs down from the cabinet.

“You said you got a letter from Dave this week. Do you still have it?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Melissa said, trying to remember where she put it. Her eyes lit up and she turned her gaze on him. “I get it! We compare the handwriting in Dave's letter to the handwriting on the valentines.”

“Yeah, you've got it,” Luke said.

“I think I left his letter on my desk,” she said. She tossed two hot chocolate packets onto the counter. “Here, you make the drinks. I'll go get the letter and the cards.”

She hurried out of the room.

It can't be Dave, she thought. No way.

Why would Dave send such hateful cards to me?

It can't be Dave.

She had begun scrambling through the papers on her desk, searching for Dave's letter, when the phone rang. Annoyed by the interruption, she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hello, Melissa?”

A woman's voice. Familiar, but Melissa didn't recognize it.

“Melissa, it's Marsha Kinley. Up in Portstown.” Dave's mom?

Why was Dave's mom calling Melissa? And why did she sound so upset?

“How are you, Mrs. Kinley?”

“Okay, Melissa. Have you seen Dave?” Mrs. Kinley asked, speaking breathlessly.

“Dave? Huh? No.” Melissa's voice revealed her confusion. “Isn't Dave—?”

“He ran away,” Mrs. Kinley interrupted. “From his boarding school. Last night. You haven't seen him?”

“No,” Melissa told her. “Why would he come here?”

There was a short pause. The line crackled with static. “He's been talking about you lately, Melissa. A lot. I'm really worried. I don't know why he's run away. I hope he isn't going to get himself in more trouble.”

Melissa suddenly realized she was gripping the receiver so hard that her hand ached. She forced herself to loosen her hold.

“And you really think he's coming to Shadyside?” she asked.

“I don't know,” Mrs. Kinley replied, her voice tight with worry. “But please, call me if you see him, okay? Or if you hear from him. Or anything. Call me right away. Okay, Melissa?”

Melissa agreed and hung up.

She tugged at a strand of her hair, winding it and unwinding it around her finger. Mrs. Kinley's frightened voice remained in her ears.

“I hope he isn't going to get himself in more trouble,” she had said, sounding so worried, so upset.

I hope so too, Melissa thought.

Remembering why she was up in her room, she began searching her desk again. She found Dave's letter in the top drawer and hurried downstairs with it.

“That was Dave's mom. On the phone,” she told a startled Luke. “She said Dave ran away from school and he might be coming here. She didn't know. She sounded really freaked.”

Luke shoved the hot chocolate mugs out of the way. Melissa plopped the two valentines down on the counter. Huddled together, the two of them studied the handwriting, moving from the cards to the letter, then back again.

“No doubt about it,” Melissa said, gazing at Luke, her eyes widening in horror. “The handwriting is the same. Dave sent the valentines.”

Luke stared down at the ugly messages on the cards. “It's the same handwriting okay,” he muttered thoughtfully.

“And now Dave is coming here,” Melissa said in a voice choked with horror. “He sent these cards to me. And now he's coming here. To make his threats come true.”

E
rica opened the front door and her eyes widened in surprise. “Melissa, hi!” she said, pushing open the glass storm door.

“How are you?” Melissa asked, wiping her shoes on the straw welcome mat before stepping into Erica's front hallway. The aroma of roasting chicken floated out from the kitchen, reminding Melissa that she was hungry.

“Okay,” Erica replied, studying Melissa's face as if trying to determine the reason for her visit. “Did you come to see Rachel? I think she's taking a nap.”

“No, I came to see you,” Melissa said somberly, her voice nearly a whisper.

“Take off your coat,” Erica said, reaching for it.

Melissa shook her head. “No, I can only stay a minute. It's almost dinner time.” She glanced through the storm door behind her. Across the street, her dad's car was pulling up the drive. “My dad has to eat two
minutes after he gets home,” Melissa said, “or else he gets crabby.”

Erica snickered. “So what's up?”

Melissa pushed her hair off her forehead. “I just wanted to tell you that Dave is missing from his school.”

Even in the dim hall light, Melissa could see Erica turn pale. Erica gaped at Melissa for a long moment, as if trying to grasp what Melissa had just told her.

“He's missing?” she said finally. “You mean he ran away?”

“Yeah,” Melissa replied, nodding. “His mom called me.”

“You mean he's coming here?” Erica asked, her shock turning to fear.

“I don't know,” Melissa said, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. “Maybe. I just thought I should tell you—”

“But he
can't!”
Erica declared shrilly, her face white, her eyes wide with fear. She had knotted her hands into tense fists at her side.

“I'm sorry,” Melissa said, not sure why she was apologizing. She hadn't expected Erica to react with such fright.

“I've always thought Dave was the one,” Erica said in a trembling voice. “The one who killed Josie. The one who attacked me last year.” She glanced up the front stairway to the landing where she had been stabbed.

“But you told the police—” Melissa started.

“I couldn't tell them anything,” Erica interrupted. “I didn't see who stabbed me. I didn't see anything.
But I always thought it was Dave. He had so much anger. So much hate. He sent my sister those awful valentines. Then he broke into our house . . .” Erica's voice trailed off. She swallowed hard.

Melissa glanced across the street. “I'd better be going. I just thought you should know that Dave—”

“Now he's coming back to finish the job,” Erica muttered, consumed with fright. She shuddered violently. “He's coming back to do something terrible.”

“I've been getting valentines too,” Melissa told her. “Threatening valentines. Like Josie.” She hadn't meant to reveal that to Erica. The words just came tumbling out.

“The same threats? You have?” Erica asked, gazing into Melissa's face with concern.

Melissa nodded. “Two of them so far,” she said, whispering as Erica's mother crossed the hallway heading for the kitchen. “In Dave's handwriting.”