Sara (21 page)

“Even here and now, you can't admit it, can you?” She brushed her fingertips, her oh-so-cold fingertips, against his cheek and he pulled back from her touch. “When it's just you and me, you can't admit it to yourself.”

“Leave me alone.” His voice sounded incredibly small to him.

“Yes, you are gay,” she whispered, leaning over to him, her breasts brushing against his arm. “You've never had a woman, have you?” She stood up, stepping out of the dress as she rose, and stood there, nude, before him. Her perfect body gleamed like marble in the pale moonlight. “You don't want me?” She smiled at him, and her eyes and teeth seemed to gleam at him.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “So very very beautiful.”

She took his hand and pulled him up to his feet. She was so strong, somehow she managed it even though his legs were so rubbery he couldn't really help her. She slid her arms around him and pressed her lips against his. Her lips were soft, but cold. Her tongue entered his mouth, exploring, her hands slipped down from his back to his buttocks, squeezing them gently.

She broke away from him, teasingly. “Let's go for a swim.”

“I don't have a suit.” He swayed a bit.

“Silly.” She laughed and undid his pants, sliding them down his legs, and he stepped out of them. He shivered, crossing his arms, standing there in just his underwear. She kissed him lightly and dove into the water. She surfaced, tossing her hair. “Come on in,” she purred. “The water's delicious.”

He jumped in, and the freezing water covered him. He rushed to the surface, his teeth chattering. “This water is like ice!”

She glided through the water to him and entangled her body with his. “Then we need to generate some body heat, don't we?” She kissed him.

But it was a different kind of kiss, hungry and desperate. His mind raced in a million directions, and then his head slipped under the water. He tried to surface, but couldn't.

She was holding him down.

Panic cleared the liquor right out of his head. He struggled and opened his eyes. The water was black, but he could see the surface, far above his head, the moon's glow touching it as though it were a window. They were several feet below the surface.

He needed air.

He tried to grab hold of her, but she slipped out of his grasp, her hold on his head never lessening. She was so strong.

Unnaturally strong.

“Fight her, Randy, she's going to kill you,” a voice said in his brain. It sounded like Noah Greene.

His lungs were burning.

He had to have air.

He pumped his legs beneath him, but did not rise.

She was too strong for him.

Doesn't she need air?

His feet touched bottom, and in his fevered brain an idea came to him. He let himself go slack, and coiled his legs beneath him, and pushed off for the surface.

He didn't move.

And as he lost consciousness, he thought he heard her laughing.

A nurse had just taken my tasteless and inedible lunch away when Laney came bursting into my room.

Her eyes were frenzied, her face flushed. There was perspiration on her forehead. I don't think I'd ever seen her look that disheveled before. Her hair was wild, like she'd been caught in a really strong wind. I glanced over to the window. The sun was shining outside. She stood there for a moment and ran her hands through her hair, making it even messier.

“Randy Froelich is missing!” she finally said. She was breathing hard, like she'd run the entire way from the parking lot, gasping as she tried to catch her breath and calm down. She clapped her hand over her mouth, and I could tell she was trying really hard not to start crying.

I was tired. I hadn't slept well—with the leg elevated I had to sleep on my back and couldn't move. They'd given me something to make me sleep every night, but I'd refused last night. I hadn't had one of the dreams since the accident, and I'd wondered if maybe it had something to do with the sleeping pill. I'd spent most of the night staring at the tiles in the ceiling—there were 546 of them. They brought me tasteless scrambled eggs and toast around seven, and the doctor who'd put the pins in my leg came by around nine to let my leg down and check on it. They'd taken me down for more X-rays, to see how it was healing, and apparently I was doing pretty well—they didn't put my leg back up in the contraption once I got back to my room. Dr. Welling told me I might be able to go home the next day, depending on how I did with the crutches. The elation I felt on getting out of the hospital died about an hour later when a sadistic physical therapist named Gretchen came by to make me try out the crutches I'd have to use for a couple of weeks.

Crutches
suck.

Despite the heavy padding, they were brutal on my armpits. After a few minutes I was pretty sure my pits were bruised and raw, and Gretchen the sadist wouldn't cut me a break. “You have to get used to them,” she told me grimly in a no-nonsense tone. “So you can either work with me or go back to bed and feel sorry for yourself. But I'll just come back and make you do it later.”

I called her a bitch in my head and did as she asked. She made me make several trips up and down the hall. She was right—it did get easier with practice. By about my tenth trip down to the nurses' station and back my shoulders didn't feel like they were being ripped out of their sockets, and even my armpits had toughened up some.

But she wasn't done with me yet. She had me head for the fire stairs at the end of the hall and made me go down the fire stairs to the first floor—and then I had to climb on the crutches all the way to the fifth floor. I went up and down several times. I was drenched in sweat and breathing hard, and the pain from my injured ribs made me feel like I was going to pass out. My hips hurt, as did every muscle in my upper body. I was praying for death by the time she was finally satisfied and let me head back to my room. I'd fallen asleep almost as soon as I'd gotten back into bed and my head hit the pillow, only to be awakened what seemed like a minute later when the orderly brought my lunch—a tasteless hamburger and soggy French fries. I decided once I'd choked down lunch I was going to go back to sleep.

And Gretchen had said I'd probably be able to go home the next day—which was more than fine with me. I hoped I'd never set foot in this stupid hospital ever again.

I moaned inwardly at the sight of Laney. I was going to have to put my nap off, and she clearly needed to be calmed down a bit.

Bearing that in mind, I set my can of soda down carefully on the nightstand. “Missing?” I said in a quiet voice, raising my eyebrows. “What do you mean, missing?”

She took a deep breath. “His parents are calling everyone—they called me a little while ago, and I got over here as fast as I could.” She sat down on a chair and ran her shaking fingers through her hair. “All they know is he went out last night—and no one seems to know where he went or with who.”

“He didn't tell them where he was going?” That seemed out of character for a straight arrow like Randy.

She shook her head. “They weren't happy about it. His mom was out somewhere, and his dad was watching TV with his brother. He heard Randy taking a shower, and then the next thing he knew Randy's car was backing out of the driveway. He tried calling his cell, but Randy had left it behind.”

“They're sure he didn't have a date?” Even as I said the words, I knew Randy hadn't spent the night with a girl. It was hardly a secret around Southern Heights that Randy had never had sex with Corey Barlow; it was one of the reasons she broke up with him. I would have more readily believed Randy was gay than Glenn, honestly.

“Uh-uh. Ever since he broke up with Corey, he hasn't been dating anyone. He left his parents' house around seven thirty and never came home. And no one has seen him, Tony.” She swallowed. “And how likely is that?
Nobody?
”

A burning knot was forming in my stomach. She was right—it not only wasn't likely, it was pretty damned impossible. If there wasn't a party somewhere out in the country, most kids always came into Kahola, and someone would have seen him if he had. There weren't many things for kids to do. Bowling, go see a movie, eat, hang out in the parking lot of the Vista Drive-In was pretty much it. The odds of going out on a Saturday night in Kahola County and not being seen by anyone were about the same as winning the lottery. “There wasn't a party somewhere?”

She shook her head. “Nope. You know, after what happened to Noah after Linda Avery's—” She swallowed. “I don't think there are going to be any parties for a while. I'm really worried, Tony—this is really not like him.”

She didn't have to tell me this was out of character for Randy Froelich. Randy had never been in trouble for as long as I'd known him. It kind of surprised me when he turned on Glenn—I would have never guessed Randy would do that, or join in with Noah and Zack in talking smack about him. If Randy's parents told him to be home by eleven, he'd be home by quarter till. That's just the kind of guy he was.

But Laney was close to hysteria already, so the most important thing for me to do was calm her down. “He probably just got drunk and passed out somewhere.” I laughed, having managed to keep my voice calm. My stomach was churning, and the nasty hospital cheeseburger I'd eaten felt like a stone. I took a few deep breaths to try to stave off my own panic. Somehow I managed to add, “I'm sure he'll turn up eventually, you'll see.”

“Randy doesn't drink, Tony, you know that as well as anyone.” She sighed and started twisting a lock of hair around her index finger. “I feel so responsible.” She blew out her breath.

“Why would you feel responsible?” I stared at her. “That doesn't make any sense, Laney.”

But I knew exactly what she meant. The guilt was already starting to creep into my mind, a little voice whispering,
You knew Randy was in danger, didn't you? You knew how badly his betrayal hurt Glenn, even though he acted like he didn't care, you knew it really hurt him to have Randy turn on him the way he did, to have someone who used to be his friend call him a faggot and join in with Noah and Zack's reign of terror with him, you knew it and still you did nothing, you said nothing, because Randy never liked you, either—so fuck him, right? Who cares if he lives or dies?

I closed my eyes and forced that voice out of my head.

“We should have said something to him, you know?” She was twisting her hair so hard I was afraid she might rip it out at the roots. “We sat here in this room last night and talked about everything that was going on, compared notes, and we should have known Randy was in danger, but we were so busy trying to talk ourselves out of believing the truth, about what's really happening—” She shook her head. “It was irresponsible. We need to make a list of people who've made Glenn mad—”

“What exactly were we supposed to say to Randy?” I interrupted her. “Be careful, Randy, Glenn's mad at you, and everyone who he's mad at has been dying lately, in case you haven't noticed?”

She squirmed in her chair and forced a small smile. “Well, when you put it like that, it does sound crazy.” She rubbed her eyes. “I know, I know I shouldn't feel responsible, but Tony, we have to do
something
.”

“He would have just laughed at us, Laney, you know that.” I went on, “He wouldn't have listened to us, and whatever was going to happen would have happened anyway. Besides, we don't know for sure anything's happened to Randy.” I forced a smile. “Maybe he went to a fraternity party at the college. I mean, I know he usually didn't drink, but maybe last night was the exception to the rule.”

“I know he's dead,” she moaned. She got up and walked over to the window. “I just know it, Tony. I can feel it, inside. I can't explain it any better than that. He's dead.”

“Listen to me, Laney.” I closed my eyes. “If—if what we think is true, we should have dreamed about Randy last night. I didn't, did you?”

She shook her head. “No.” She didn't seem reassured.

“We both dreamed about Noah and Zack the nights they died, didn't we?” I folded my arms. “So, if we're right, and neither of us dreamed about Randy dying, we have to assume he's okay.” It made sense, but I knew what she meant. I had a horrible feeling I couldn't shake no matter how hard I tried.

Randy wouldn't be found alive.

But it seemed to satisfy her, and she smiled back at me. “I guess I sounded like a lunatic.” She sat back down in the chair, crossing her legs. “But when the Froelichs called me this morning—”

“You were just scared, that's all.” I smiled back at her. “Which is perfectly natural, you know.”

“I know, I know.” She chewed on a fingernail for a moment. “I know it all sounds crazy, and it doesn't make sense. I know that. But deep down I just know I'm right, that somehow
she's
behind it all, you know? And I'm scared.” She took a few deep breaths and bit her lower lip. “If
she's
killing everyone who's hurt Glenn in some way—won't I be on that list?”