The Dead Boyfriend (11 page)

But why were they here? Why hidden in a back room? Mannequins in glass cases with spotlights on them as if they were on display?

Still struggling to catch my breath, I took a few steps closer. The man's hands were at his sides. The backs of his hands were wrinkled, like real human hands. The woman had a diamond wedding ring on her left hand.

Behind me, the doors swung open with a crash. I gasped and spun around.

Deena stood in the doorway, holding onto the sides of the doors. Her gaze went from me to the twin cases. Then she locked her eyes on me.

“I see you've met my parents,” she said.

 

22.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. I stared at her open-mouthed, my legs trembling so hard I started to fall.

Finally, I found my voice. “That's a joke, right? You're joking?”

She shook her head. “Not a joke. That's Mom and Dad. In the flesh.”

“But how?” I uttered. “I mean, why? I mean—”

“They never should have let me take that taxidermy class,” she said.

I'm in a nightmare.

That's what I thought, Diary.

I turned my back on the display cases. I couldn't bear to look at them now. I pressed a hand to my throat, struggling to keep my lunch down.

“They are mannequins, right?” I said. “I know the stories about your family, Deena. But no way.
No way
I'll believe that you stuffed your own parents.”

“I don't have time to explain,” she said. “They were very annoying people. I didn't really have a choice.”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the hall. I must have been dazed or in shock or something. I let her pull me back to her room without a fight.

The parrot bobbed up and down on his perch, excited to see us again. The tall weeds outside the wide window swayed in a shifting breeze.

“You're going to help me, Caitlyn,” Deena said softly. She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyelids. Her eyes looked so much smaller without her glasses. “You don't have a choice.”

I didn't reply, just glared at her. The faces of the couple in the glass cases lingered in my mind. The woman
did
look a lot like Deena.

“You're coming to the chapel with me now,” Deena said, her voice low and steady. “We're going to bring Blade back.”

“No. I can't,” I finally found my voice. “I can't bring him back. I don't
want
to bring him back.”

And then, suddenly, I told her. It just came out of me.

“Deena, I don't want to see Blade again,” I said. “I
can't
see Blade again. Because … because I'm the one who killed him.”

Deena dove forward and grabbed me by the shoulders. She gave me a hard shake. A disgusted sneer spread over her face.

“You idiot!” she cried. “
You're
not the one who killed him.
I
did!”

 

23.

A shuddering cry escaped my lips. She gave me a shove, and I stumbled back a few steps. I caught my balance, but my head was spinning.

I stared at her, sucking in breath after breath.

Deena's hair was wild about her head now, as if it had come alive. Her normally pale face was red, her mouth in a tight scowl.

Was she lying? She had to be.

“You—you were there?” I choked out. “In Blade's backyard? When … when I stabbed him?”

“I stabbed him,” she insisted. She crossed her arms in front of her black vest. “I mean, I
made
you stab him. You didn't act on your own, Caitlyn. You … you were too much in love with him to kill him.”

She couldn't control her jealousy. She spat those last words, her face tight with fury.

“But—why?” I demanded. “Why kill him? Why did he have to be killed?”

“Because he betrayed us,” Deena replied, arms still tightly crossed in front of her.

Us.

“I followed you to Blade's house that night,” Deena said. She swept back her hair with both hands. “I couldn't let him get away with it. I didn't know … I didn't know he had a girlfriend. That girl Vanessa with the sweet smile and the mousy-soft voice. I wanted to puke, Caitlyn. Seriously. I just wanted to puke.”

Behind me, Tweety the parrot chimed in again: “
Why? Why? Why?
”

“So … you followed me?” I said.

Deena nodded. “I waited and watched. I saw how angry you were at him. Angry and hurt. And you had every right to be, Caitlyn. I saw him first. I saw Blade first. But you had every right to be out-of-your-mind angry. And when I saw that knife fall out of your bag…”

Her voice trailed off. I could see Deena was picturing the whole thing in her mind as she described it to me.

“I saw my opportunity, and I took it,” she said, eyes flashing behind the big eyeglasses.

“You're crazy,” I blurted out. “Earth calling Deena. How about a little reality check? You didn't do anything. I picked up the knife. I held the knife. I stabbed him. I stabbed him and I killed him, Deena. Not you.”

She crossed her arms again and smirked at me.

“I stabbed him! I stabbed him!” I shouted. The words came out in sobs. My whole body shuddered. I was finally confessing. Finally letting my horrible secret out. “I stabbed him and stabbed him!”

She shook her head. “Why are you such a pain? Didn't I tell you we have to hurry to bring Blade back?”

I wiped tears off my cheeks. I clenched my jaw, trying to stop the shudders that shook my body.

“Here's a quick demonstration,” Deena said. “Here is how I made you stab Blade, okay? I was in charge. You weren't. I'll show you, Caitlyn.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Another demonstration?” I shuddered and pictured her drowning the parrot again.

She pointed to the glass wall at the back of the room. Outside, I could see the late afternoon sun lowering behind the trees. Tiny white butterflies fluttered over the wildflowers at the back of the house.

Deena snapped her fingers, then worked them in some kind of code, almost like sign language. Then she pointed to the window again. “Go over there and do a cartwheel,” she said.

“Okay,” I said.

The parrot slid from side to side on his perch. I strode to the wall, stepped into a square of red sunlight on the floor, raised my arms above my head, and did a fairly graceful cartwheel.

I landed unsteadily and nearly stumbled into the glass. But I caught my balance and turned to Deena.

“Do another one,” she said, motioning again with her fingers.

“No problem,” I said. I concentrated this time and did a much more athletic cartwheel. This time I landed perfectly. “Ta-da.”

“Are you catching on?” Deena said. “Are you starting to see how I can make you do whatever I want? Do you see how I used you to stab Blade?”

I felt confused. “Well…”

“I'll give you one more demonstration,” she said. “If that's what it takes to convince you I'm telling the truth.” She did that thing with her fingers again. “Caitlyn, go over there, take the parrot, and drown him again.”

“Okay,” I said.

 

24.

The parrot flapped his wings rapidly, ducked, and twisted his head. He seemed to sense what was coming. I wrapped my hand around his middle and lifted him off the perch. He squawked frantically and snapped his beak, trying to bite my hand as I carried him over to the aquarium.

I curled my hand tightly so he couldn't escape. I glimpsed six or seven goldfish in the tank, swimming slowly in a cluster. I lowered the parrot toward the water.

The bird began to squawk like crazy, squirming and twisting frantically in my hand.

“Okay, stop,” Deena called. “Put Tweety back on his perch.”

I turned away from the aquarium and quickly obeyed. I set the parrot down carefully on the perch. He squawked and nodded his head several times, as if telling me off.

“Tweety has had a tough day already,” Deena said. “Let's give the dude a break.”

I blinked. The room darkened as the sun dropped behind the trees. Somewhere far in the distance, I heard a howl. A hunting dog maybe.

Deena stood in the doorway. I could see the impatience on her face. She was waiting for me to say something.

“I understand,” I said. “I get it, Deena.” I let out a long sigh. “I see what you did. Mind control, right? You used me.”

“It was for your own good,” she replied.

My mouth dropped open. “Huh? My own good? Are you
kidding
me? You … you turned me into a
murderer
.”

“He betrayed us,” she said. “He had it coming.” She turned and headed into the hall.

“But what about my life?” I cried, hurrying after her. “My life might be over. I'm a murderer. If the police figure it out … If they arrest me…”

“It will be different this time,” she said, picking up her pace, jogging to the door, her hair flying behind her.

“Slow down, Deena. You're not listening to me at all.” We passed the library with all the old, dust-covered volumes from floor to ceiling, books of evil magic, I decided, witchcraft, voodoo, supernatural spells.… I'm sure Deena was familiar with it all.

“It will be different,” she said, grabbing car keys from a basket on a table in the front entryway. “This time he'll be mine. This time he will treat me right. It's going to be awesome. Awesome, Caitlyn. You'll see.”

She's totally insane,
I thought.
She's in her own world.

And here I was, going with her. Climbing into the little Honda Civic beside her. Fastening my seat belt. Preparing … for
what
?

“Deena, are you controlling me right now?” I demanded.

She started the car. Adjusted the mirror outside her window, shifted into reverse, and started to back down the weed-choked obstacle course of a driveway.

“Are you?” I asked. “Are you controlling me?”

“Going to be awesome,” she repeated. The car bumped over something hard in the driveway. “You'll see. So different this time.”

“But what are we
doing
?” I screamed. “Tell me. What are we doing right now? Where are we going?”

She backed off the driveway onto Fear Street. Across the street, the trees shivered in the woods. Long evening shadows fell over our car as she shifted into drive and sped off.

“We're going to the chapel, like I told you,” she answered finally. “Blade is waiting for me. Waiting for me to bring him home.”

I watched the smile spread across her face. “You're going to take him from his coffin and—”

“Bring him home and bring him back, back to life. Just like Tweety, my sweet parrot. I've already done the prep work, Caitlyn. I spent the whole night preparing. I've done everything the book said. I know I can do it. I have no doubt at all.”

The houses rushed past us as she sped along Division Street. The evening rush hour traffic was mostly going the other way. I wanted to roll down the window and shout to the other cars: “Help me! Help me out of here!”

But instead, I tilted my head back against the seat and shut my eyes. I couldn't control my leaping thoughts. And I told myself I had only me to blame for this.

Why did I obey her text message and come running to her house? I could have avoided all the horrifying insanity—the drowned parrot, the dead parents under their spotlights.…

Perhaps she used her mind control powers to bring me to Fear Street and her house.

Perhaps I was never in control today.

From all the insanity, there was only one good thing I learned. I am not a murderer. Deena was the murderer. I wasn't in control.

Of course, the police would never buy that story. No one would. Knowing I wasn't responsible should have made me feel better. But here I was, a prisoner of this crazy girl, one more victim of the Fear family's evil, about to break into a chapel and steal a corpse from its coffin.

How could I possibly feel anything but fear and regret?

Deena pulled to the curb and parked the car near the corner. The little chapel stood in deep shadow now, the sun having completely gone down. Through the passenger window, I could see a pale sliver of moon hanging low over the trees.

A wide concrete path cut through the closely trimmed lawn. Deena made me lead the way. I guess, to make sure I didn't try to escape again.

We were halfway up the path when the front chapel door swung open.

“Quick!” Deena grabbed me and pulled me behind a wide evergreen shrub. We both ducked low and watched as Reverend Preller, still in that brown sport jacket, stepped out of the chapel. He turned and locked the door carefully. Then he raised his face to the sky. I think he was just taking a breath of the cool night air.

Deena pulled me down lower. The evergreen branches prickled my face. I couldn't see the minister now, but I heard his footsteps on the path. Growing louder. Coming closer.

My heart started to pound. If he turned in our direction, he would see us crouching there. We would be caught. And how would we explain what we were doing there?

He walked right past us. His eyes were on the sky. He walked quickly, whistling to himself, swinging his arms in a steady rhythm.

I turned and watched him reach the curb. He crossed the street and stepped up to a dark green car parked there.

Deena and I waited till he drove away. Then we straightened up and walked to the chapel entrance. “It's locked,” I said. “We watched him lock it.”

“Not a problem,” she said softly. She motioned to the side of the building. “There's a back entrance behind the minister's office. I made sure it was unlocked before I left the funeral.”

I followed her around the side. An orange light flickered dimly through the row of stained glass windows, a dim light inside. The back door was nearly hidden by tall shrubs.