April Fools (7 page)

the fears caved in on her and she nearly fell because she didn't see the last step.

She grabbed for the bannister and kept going, sure now that she'd never come back to this house again. But that mil look STispicious . . . if you just run out of here, you'll look more suspicious than ever and everyone will wonder why and what unll you tell them --

"I don't know," Belinda whispered to herself. "Oh, I don't know ... I don't know."

She jerked open the front door and yelled back over her shoulder, "Mr. Cobbs, I'm leaving now!"

And she was still looking back over her shoulder when she ran ftdl force into something on the porch, when a pair of arms went around her to keep her from falling.

"Hey," a voice laughed, "where's the fire?"

And Belinda stared up into soft hazel eyes, sun-bleached hair . . . and a teasing smile only inches away from her open mouth.

"One thing I like about coming home" -- the boy looked amused -- "I never know what surprises Til find."

Behind her Belinda heard the perfectly measured steps of Cobbs approaching. She looked back and saw him there in the entryway, a suitcase in each hand.

"Hi, Cobbs," the boy grinned.

"Mister Noel," Cobbs nodded, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Allowance running low again?"

"Now what kind of a welcome is that?" Noel chided good-naturedly. "I like this one a lot better." He let go of Belinda's shoulders, and she blushed as he stepped past her into the hall. "So what's all this? Did you finally throw Mom out?"

"Your mother's just leaving, sir. On business."

"Great. This'd be a perfect time for you to make your escape --"

"Noel!" The voice came from above and was so startled that they all looked up to the balcony. Mrs. Thome's face seemed to be making its usual struggle between civility and annoyance, but she came quickly down the stairs, her arms regally wide. "Darling -- what a surprise!"

"Hi, Mom." Noel looked extremely embarrassed, and Cobbs tactfully redirected his gaze toward the ceiling.

"Why are you here? What do you need? You should have told me you were coming." Her eyes raked him from head to foot, her mouth set in a tight smile. "If you came for Fred's sake, there's nothing you can do."

"I finished up early at school." He shrugged. "And how is Fred? Any change?"

"I'm afraid not. And you've wasted a perfectly good visit, too. I'm just now leaving." Mrs. Thome sighed. "New York, of all places. How long will you be here?"

"I don't really know. Mom. I have a little time before my job starts so -- "

"Oh, job!" she said scornfully. "As if you needed to work."

"I like to work," he said firmly. He went over to Cobbs and offered his hand. "How've you been, Cobbs?"

"Peachy."

Noel grinned again and turned back to his mother. "So who's this frantic young lady, and why's she running away?"

They all looked at her, and Belinda went even redder. Mrs. Thome gave an exasperated shrug, her bracelets ratthng in the direction of the upstairs hall.

"Oh, it's probably Adam --"

"Adam?" Noel looked surprised. "Is Adam here?"

"Oh, really, it's most tragic!" Mrs. Thome jerked on her coat and gloves, tilted a hat onto her head. "He's staying here, of all things. I don't know for how long, either, but his mother sent him because of Fred and --"

"She means the accident," Behnda spoke up, trying to control the anger in her voice. "She means the accident was the most tragic thing." As Mrs. Thorne looked taken aback, Cobbs flicked a look at Belinda and then onto his shoes.

Mrs. Thome headed for the door. "Fred . . . this damn business . . . now Adam. . . . It's always something, Noel -- do I have an easy life?"

Noel hid a smile and trailed behind her, stopping again as his mother let out a shriek. Belinda stepped out onto the porch just in time to see a brown blur leap from the red sportscar in the driveway.

"What is that -- you didn^t -- oh, Noel, how could you --"

"Relax, Mom, you won't even be here to notice her," Noel chuckled. There was a loud bark, and a moment later a huge dog bounded past her into the house. Belinda recognized it as the dog in Noel's photograph, and as Noel let out a sharp whistle, the dog loped out again and leaped back into his car. Cobbs sighed and started to put the luggage into the Mercedes, but Noel stopped him.

"I can take her, Cobbs. Just put the stuff in my

car."

"If you're sure it's convenient, sir." 70

"Fm positive. Take the afternoon off or something."

Cobbs hesitated. "Actually ... I would like to stop by the hospital and inquire after Mr. Thorne -- "

"Go ahead. Stay as long as you want. I'll get her where she needs to go on time."

Mrs. Thome brightened. "Oh, darling, how very sweet of you -- it'll give us a chance to talk and catch up. I miss you when I don't see you, you know that." She blew him an absentminded little kiss as Cobbs reached to open the other door.

Noel's smile seemed oddly forced. "Sure you do, Mom," he said, more to himself than to her. He turned to Belinda with an apologetic shrug. "Sorry about all this chaos. I'm Noel Ashby. And you're --"

"She's Belinda Swanson," Mrs. Thome said. "Do hurry, and let's get going --"

"Nice to meet you, Belinda." This time the smile was genuine, the grip strong yet gentle as he shook her hand. "I guess I missed something -- was there a reason you were running out of the house?"

BeUnda fumbled for an answer, conscious of Mrs. Thome's disapproving look. "I... I had something to do -- I forgot -- I had to get home."

"Oh, then, I've probably made you late. Pm sorry."

"No, that's all right, you didn't." She smiled at his concern.

^Where's your car? Did you drive over?"

"Noel --" his mother said impatiently.

"No, I took the bus," Belinda said.

"I'll take her home, sir." Cobbs started back toward the other car.

"No, m take her. It's the least I can do."

"Honestly, Noel!" Mrs. Thome fumed. "Who is going to take me --"

"Just hang on. Mom. Go inside and make yourself comfortable -- I'll be right back."

"But the plane --"

"I'm sure we have plenty of time, don't we, Cobbs?"

"Oodles."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that," Belinda protested. "It's not far, really . . . I'll just --"

"I don't trust buses," Noel said firmly, digging in his jeans pockets for his keys. "They're not safe, and you can never count on the schedules. Come on. This place always gives me a craving for fresh air." He gave her a conspiratorial wink as his mother went back into the house.

Belinda hesitated, then gave in to a laugh. "Okay, then. Thanks."

"Oh, and this is Sasha. Sasha -- Belinda. Hope you like dogs."

"I love dogs."

"Then Sasha and I are your, friends for life, right. Sash?"

Sasha gave a happy bark as they climbed into the car, and Noel brushed frantically at the dog hair on the front seat.

"So I make allowances," he grinned. "She's my best girl."

Belinda smiled back and settled herself comfortably beside him, but as she looked back at the house she saw something move at one of the upstairs windows. A curtain pulling back ... a silhouette watching them leave. She shivered and glanced over at Noel. Apparently he hadn't noticed it; he was too busy fooling with the tape deck.

"I haven't been here in a while." Noel tried to peer around Sasha, who had managed to squeeze herself between the bucket seats. "I always go through the park first before anything else. It's one of my favorite places."

"So . . . you've lived here a long time."

He shook his head. "No, we lived in Washington before Mom married Fred. But I've been here for holidays and things. I really like the town, but I'm usually not here long enough to look it all over. How about you?"

"I was bom here. My mom's a nurse at Charity Hospital."

"I see. Now, maybe it's none of my business, but I'm still a little confused. How do you know Adam?"

**Well," Belinda looked away, "we're not really friends."

Noel's glance was surprised. "No? Oh, sorry, I just assumed --"

"I'm just helping him study. Mrs. Thome hired me to be his tutor, since he can't go to school."

"That should be fun," Noel said offhandedly, then glanced at her. "Oh. Sorry again."

"So you don't like him, either?"

"Hey ... I didn't say that. He's . . . different."

"He won't let me see him. He keeps his room dark, and he won't let anyone close to him. I think Cobbs brings him pain medicine." On a sudden hunch she asked, "Do you know Adam very well?"

Noel's head went slowly from side to side. "I guess it sounds kind of funny, but we haven't really been around each other that much. Mom married Fred -- my stepdad -- just three years ago. I've been away at school -- and I think Adam's been hving with his mother ever since his folks split up years ago."

"Do you ... do you happen to know where his mother lives?"

"No, I've never been there. I don't think it's far,^ though. Some Httle town."

"But where? Close to here?"

Noel gave her a strange look. 'Why? Are you planning a visit or something?"

"No," she said, flustered. "I'm just curious."

His eyes flicked back to the road. "I don't know. A couple hours' drive, maybe. I really don't know."

Belinda flinched, her voice coming out taut. "I don't think he likes it here very much."

"Well" -- Noel looked almost sympathetic -- "I can't really blame him. My mom's pretty hard to take most of the time." He adjusted the volume control, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel. "So how long is he staying, do you know?"

She shook her head. "He's . . . he's really a very scary person sometimes. ..."

"Ah. From what I've heard, the wreck didn't have anything to do with that." Noel threw her

another quick glance. "From what I've heard, Adam's never been known for his charming personality."

Belinda pondered this, remembering the photograph in the kitchen. "From what you've heard or from what you know?^^

Noel smiled. "Our only thing in common is having a parent and a stepparent. The times we have been in the same house, we never spend time together. Adam's a real loner. I don't think he has any use for people."

"Haven't you ever just talked?"

"No. Like I said, all I really know about Adam is what I've heard." He hesitated and glanced at her. "Look, I don't want to give you any unfair impressions of Adam. He's not here to defend himself, and I don't know him, it's that simple."

"I have my own impressions." Belinda sighed. "I want to help him, but he doesn't want me to. I don't know if I should come back or not."

Noel shifted his shoulders. "And I'm not being much help at all, am I? I don't know what to tell you."

"Oh, this is my street." Belinda straightened, pointing. "Last house -- the green shutters." She tried not to feel embarrassed by him being here -- after the kind of house he was used to, she was sure this neighborhood looked near poverty level to him. Asking Noel in was out of the question.

"BeUnda?"

She was already out of the car. He leaned across Sasha as Belinda looked back in the window, and

his hand reached up to touch her arm.

"I know this is none of my business," he began hesitantly, "but this thing with Adam -- he^s been through a bad time, and I don't imagine he's over it yet. If I can do anything . . . you know ... I hope you'll tell me."

Belinda tried to smile. "Maybe," she said lamely. "Thanks for the offer."

"You think about it." He started to back up, then stopped again. "And if you do decide to come, why don't I pick you up?"

"That's nice of you, but there's a bus that runs right past my school."

"It wouldn't be any trouble -- "

"Thanks. Really. But I can take the bus all right."

He waved and honked the horn, a blur of shiny red fading down the street. Belinda stood there looking after him, then let herself in with a sigh. Yes, I could definitely get serious about Noel. . . . "Noel and Belinda" -- it sounded good, she decided, and then who are you kidding, Belinda Swanson; you're as ordinary as they come.

Laughing at herself, she went out to get the mail, her shoulders hunched against the chilly twilight. She took a deep breath of air and waved at a passing neighbor, plunging her other hand into the mailbox.

Something oozed beneath her fingers.

As Belinda gasped and jerked away, she looked wildly back at the sidewalk but the neighbor had gone; the street was empty.

And then she looked down at her hand.

There were wet globs of red on her fingers . . .

and the smell made her gag and step back off the curb.

Belinda stared at the mailbox in horror.

It's Frank playing a joke again . . . it has to be Frank . . . some sick^ stupid joke and damn you, Frank, for what you got us into --

She couldn't put her hand back in there. Yet -- whatever it was -- she couldn't leave it inside.

Carefully she listened, but nothing moved. The thing in the mailbox was dead -- it had to be dead -- and by the smell of it, had been dead a long time.

Slowly she eased her fingers inside . . . groping . . . groping . . . she felt something soft beneath the slime.

Holding her breath, she cupped her palm around it and lifted it out.

The scream she'd been holding back rose into her throat and stuck there, the awful, hideous thing in her hand looking back at her beneath a smeared coating of mashed entrails.

It was a head.

Once it had been part of a doll.

Once it had probably been beautiful.

Only now its face had been slashed repeatedly and someone had stitched it sloppily back together with thick, black thread.

It was grinning at her.

And where its eyes should have been, there were only deep, black holes.

"Okay, Hildy, start talking."

Belinda's voice was surprisingly calm as she turned the plastic bag upside down beside Hildy. The doll's head fell out with a thud, and Hildy gagged, scooting back on the bench.