Killer's Kiss (10 page)

Delia held her hands up so everyone could see the rope burns on her wrists. Two bright red bracelets of raw skin.

Britty gasped. “How could you do that to her?” she asked Karina.

“What were you going to do when you got home, Karina?” Delia demanded furiously. “
Kill
me?”

Delia turned and wrapped her arms around Vincent's waist. She buried her face in his chest. “She's insane!” Delia moaned.

“You're
insane!” Karina shrieked in fury. “This whole story is
crazy!”
She launched herself at Delia.

Gabe and Stewart each grabbed Karina by an arm. Karina struggled against them. “It's all a lie!” she wailed. “It's a total lie!”

She struggled to break free from the boys' grasp.

“Stop it, Karina!” Stewart ordered. “You came to the party late. We all saw you.”

“That doesn't mean anything!” she cried. “I tried on a couple of different outfits.”

“Come to her house. You'll see!” Delia exclaimed. She pulled away from Vincent and started for the door.

“I'll prove it to you!” Delia shouted. “Come to her house. The ropes are still tied to the headboard. And—and you'll see the blood. My blood. All over the carpet.”

Karina ripped herself away from Gabe and Stewart.

She shoved through the crowd and blocked the doors.

“No!” she screamed. “No! You can't come to my house! You can't!”

Chapter

20

“W
hy can't we go to your house?” Delia demanded. “Because I'm telling the truth?”

“No!” Karina cried, trembling. “Because it's crazy! It's all a crazy pack of lies! Delia is a liar!”

“Liar?” Delia cried. “I'm a liar?” She raised her hands so that everyone could see them once again. “Look at my wrists.”

She touched the side of her head and held up her blood-smeared fingers. “Look at my head! My dress is torn. My knees are skinned.” She stared hard at Karina. “So how can you say I'm a liar?”

“Noooooo!” Karina let out a long howl. She dove at Delia.

But Vincent jumped between them. “Karina …”
Vincent hesitated. “We're going to do everything we can to get you the help you need.”

Karina threw herself at Vincent. She pounded on his chest with both fists. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” she chanted. “I hate you! I hate you
all!”

With one more furious roar, she spun away from him. Her eyes wild, her hair flying behind her, she turned and pushed through the double doors.

They slammed behind her.

“Someone stop her!” Stewart cried.

Gabe grabbed Britty's arm. The two of them darted after Karina.

“I'll go find a phone. I'll try to call her parents,” Stewart volunteered. “We have to stop her—before she does something else that's horrible!”

Delia watched Stewart run out the door. Then she sank against Vincent.

“Let's get you home,” Vincent said softly. “We have to take care of those cuts.”

Delia sighed and pulled back. “Let's just rest for a moment,” she whispered weakly. “I—I can't believe what she did to me. I can't believe she'd go this far …”

♦ ♦ ♦

Delia inhaled deeply. She loved the smell of a new tube of lipstick.

She stroked a coat of Midnight Wine over her full lips and checked her dresser mirror. “Perfect,” she murmured. She picked a tissue from the box on
her dresser and blotted her lips. She dropped the tissue on the floor.

“What do you think?” Delia turned to face Britty. Her friend perched on Delia's bed, swinging her legs.

“You sure look better than you did last night!” Britty declared. “It's hard to believe you're the same person.”

Britty bounced up and paced around the room. “Last night when I saw you with all the blood on your face, I thought …”

Britty shuddered. Her eyes glistened with tears.

Britty is such a great friend, Delia told herself.

“I love your outfit,” Britty said.

Delia could tell Britty wanted to change the subject. She didn't mind. Delia didn't want to think about last night, either. She hoped that someday she would be able to forget all about it.

“Only you could get away with wearing those colors together,” Britty teased.

Delia ran her fingers down her purple, pink, yellow, and brown sweater. One of her favorites. Then she heard a honk from in front of the house.

“Gabe's here,” Britty announced. “Are you sure you feel well enough to be on Vincent's clean-up crew?”

“Definitely,” Delia answered. She grabbed her purse, and they headed to the front door. “The last thing I want to do is sit around by myself. All I
would do is think about Karina. Every time I hear a tiny noise in the house, I think she is coming after me.”

“Did you tell your parents?” Britty asked.

“Of course. But I wouldn't let them go to the police. They're going to ‘discuss' it with her parents. Karina needs help.”

Delia opened the door and stepped out into the sunshine. She took a deep breath of the fresh, chilly air. “Last night when I was tied up in Karina's room, I thought I would never escape. I couldn't imagine being outside again. Or hanging out with my friends. I was so terrified.”

Britty wrapped her arm around Delia's shoulders as they made their way to Gabe's car. “I know I was only there a few hours,” Delia continued. “But it felt like days. And I kept wondering what Karina planned to do … What she planned to do to me when she came home from the party.”

They climbed into the car. “I brought us some doughnuts to eat on the way over,” Gabe said, passing the box. “How are you doing?” he asked Delia. He met Delia's eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Better,” she said.

Gabe nodded.

Delia stared out the window as they approached the house on Fear Street where Vincent had held his party the night before. Delia's stomach tightened into a knot.

Delia wrapped her arms around herself and leaned her forehead against the cold glass of the window. Gabe parked the car in front of the house.

They climbed out of the car. Gabe popped open the trunk, and they pulled out a couple of brooms and some big garbage bags.

“Vincent?” Gabe called as they made their way into the gloomy house.

No answer.

“Vincent had better be here,” Gabe said. “I'm not cleaning up the whole place before he arrives.”

“Vincent!” Britty called.

No answer.

They took a few more steps inside the house. “He said he would be here early, right?” Britty asked.

“That's what he told me when he took me home last night,” Delia said. She poked her head into the huge ballroom. Soda cans, empty pizza boxes, and empty chicken buckets littered the floor.

The helium balloons that had clung to the ceiling last night now hovered at eye level. Delia pushed a balloon aside and crossed the big room.

“Vincent!” she yelled. “We've got a lot of work to do!”

“He must not be here yet,” Britty said. “Let's wait outside for him. This place gives me the creeps.”

“Okay,” Delia answered. She turned—and froze.

“Oh nooooo!” Britty wailed. She saw it too.

Saw Vincent. Facedown. On the floor. Surrounded by empty soda cans and pizza boxes.

“Vincent—?” Delia uttered.

And then she was down on her knees beside his still body.

“Vincent? Vincent?
Vincent?”

“Is he—is he breathing?” Gabe choke out.

Delia reached out and ran her fingers along his cheek. His skin felt cool.

She pressed her fingers against his throat. Nothing. No pulse.

Nothing. Nothing …

“He's dead,” Delia whispered. “Vincent is dead.”

Chapter

21

G
abe crouched beside her. He pulled back Vincent's shoulder, then gently returned it to the floor. “Somebody stabbed him—stabbed him in the chest.”

“Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!” Britty wailed.

“Vincent … Vincent … Vincent …” Delia rocked back and forth, repeating his name.

Gabe stood up and pulled Delia to her feet. “We have to get out of here. We have to call the police.”

“Vincent … Vincent … Vincent …” Delia repeated.

♦ ♦ ♦

Delia stuffed her hands deep into her pockets. She huddled on the front porch of the old house
with Gabe and Britty. Waiting for the police—and their parents—to arrive.

“Maybe we should go wait in the car,” Gabe said. “It's pretty cold out here.”

“No,” Britty insisted. “I'm too nervous to sit still.”

“Here they come anyway,” Delia announced. A black-and-white cruiser pulled up in front of the house. Two officers slid out and strode up the walkway.

“I'm Detective Bender,” one of the men told them. He gestured to his tall, skinny partner. “And that's Detective Jamison. You reported a murder?”

“One of our friends. He's been stabbed. We didn't move him or anything,” Gabe answered.

“What were you kids doing out here anyway? This place has been deserted for at least a year,” Detective Jamison said. His angular face held a grim expression.

“We explained that on the phone,” Delia replied. “Vincent … he's the one who … who's been killed. He gave a party here last night. We all came over this morning to help him clean up. That's when we found him.”

Britty shifted from one foot to the other, chewing on a piece of her hair. “We called you right away!”

“Show us,” Detective Bender instructed.

Delia and Gabe led the way inside. Britty trailed behind the detectives.

Delia's heart beat against her ribs.

A helium balloon brushed against Delia's arms. She hated the feel of the rubbery skin. She pointed to Vincent's body.

“Stay back,” Detective Jamison ordered. He pulled on a pair of thin plastic gloves. He knelt beside Vincent and studied him for a long moment without touching him. Then the detective rolled Vincent onto his back.

Delia squeezed her eyes shut. She heard Britty gasp.

“A knife into his chest,” one of the detectives noted. “One stab between the ribs. Another into the heart.”

Delia's eyes locked on the handle of the large knife sticking out of Vincent's chest. Most of the blade was buried in his body.

She moved her eyes slowly up Vincent's body. Over the blood matted on his green sweater. A circle of dark blood on the green sweater. The sweater she gave him for Christmas. The one she chose so carefully.

Her eyes traveled up to his mouth. It was frozen open, in a silent howl of terror.

She studied his eyes next. Vincent's eyes. They stared up at her blankly.

“Delia,” Britty whispered.

Delia followed Britty's gaze down to Vincent's cheek.

To the lip print on his pale cheek.

A purple lip print.

Midnight Wine.

“Delia, that's your lipstick!” Britty cried.

Chapter

22