Broken Hearts (11 page)

He walked rapidly up to Erica, peering over her shoulder as he approached.

He didn't want me to see the cards he'd selected, Erica thought. He's so embarrassed. It's as if I caught him committing a crime or something.

“Hi, Erica,” Jenkman said, still gazing beyond her. “Just buying some cards for my mom.”

“That's nice,” Erica told him, giving him a warm smile. “I was—”

“Is Josie here?” he interrupted. “Oh, yeah. There she is.” He hurried past Erica, pushing her aside with both hands to get down the narrow aisle. “Hey, Josie! Hi! Josie!” he shouted.

He never even glanced at me, Erica thought unhappily. She followed him down the aisle, eager to see how Josie would react.

At first Josie pretended she didn't hear Jenkman calling to her. But when he was only a few feet away, she turned and glared at him coldly.

“Josie—” he started.

“Did your mother let you out of your cage?” she asked, turning up her nose.

“Josie, listen,” he pleaded, grabbing her arm.

She jerked back as if he had hit her.

“I just want to talk to you,” he said, stung.

“Buying more ugly valentines for me, Jenkman?” she asked. “Going to scrawl more ugly threats?”

“Huh?” His face filled with confusion. Then he seemed to remember. “Hey, Erica told me about those cards, Josie. You don't think that I sent them, do you?”

“Three guesses,” she said coldly. “And were you spying on me the other night? At the skating rink?”

“No way,” Jenkman said heatedly. “Why would I spy on you?”

“I don't believe you,” Josie told him. “Why don't you get a life?”

“I don't get you,” Jenkman said.

“That's right. You
don't!”
Josie snapped. “Bye, Jenkman.”

Before he could say anything else, she hurried out of the store.

Embarrassed, Erica made her way quickly to the second aisle and started toward the exit. She turned at the doorway.

Jenkman, she saw, had returned to the card rack in the back. His face was bright red, his expression angry. He was furiously pulling card after card off the rack without reading them, without even looking at them.

He looks angry enough to kill, Erica thought.

Maybe he
is
the one who's sending Josie those valentines.

Maybe it
is
Jenkman after all.

S
teve leaned forward and kissed Josie. She kissed him back. His lips were hot and dry. He smelled of peppermint.

“Happy you-know,” he said, grinning, his breath steaming up in front of him.

“Is that all I get? One lousy kiss? No valentines? No chocolates?” Josie teased, pressing both hands against his chest.

“What was so lousy about the kiss?” he demanded.

Josie laughed. “Come inside. It's freezing out here. Brrr.” She shivered.

He followed her into her house.

“I'm so tired of winter,” she complained, rubbing her arms. “You'd better have a Valentine's Day present for me, mister.”

“I might,” Steve teased.

She led him into the living room. Luke, in a heavy,
old-fashioned-looking gray overcoat, was coming the other way. “Oh, hi, Steve.”

“Hi, Luke. How's it going?” Steve asked, pulling off his jacket and tossing it onto the couch.

Luke shrugged. “Not great. I—uh—brought Rachel a big Valentine's Day heart. You know. Chocolates. But she just stared at it.”

“Oh,” Steve said awkwardly.

Luke pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Rachel seems very troubled tonight,” he said, turning to Josie. “Something's bothering her. Of course, she doesn't say what.” He took a deep breath. “Well, I've got to get going.”

“Yeah. Well. See you,” Steve said.

Josie and Steve watched Luke head out the front door. When it closed behind him, Steve turned to her. He scratched his jaw. “I can't decide about Luke,” he said.

Through the living room window, Josie watched Luke climb into his car in the driveway. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, I can't decide if Luke is a great guy for sticking with Rachel. Or if there's something wrong with him.”

Josie sighed impatiently. “Come on. It's Valentine's Day. Let's not talk about Rachel tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed. He leaned down to kiss her, but she shoved him away.

“No present. No kiss.”

“You're tough,” he teased, grinning. “Hey, are we going ice-skating, or not?”

“I don't know,” Josie said reluctantly.

“You said that's what you wanted to do,” Steve protested, disappointed. “We had so much fun the other night.”

“Yeah. Till I came home and found my dog murdered,” Josie muttered. She raised her eyes to him. “I'm kind of scared.”

“You mean—”

“I mean, it's Valentine's Day, the day I'm supposed to die. Here. Look.” Josie walked rapidly to the den. She reappeared a few seconds later carrying another valentine.

She jammed it into his hand. “Here. Read this—the latest one.” Her eyes locked onto his, revealing her fear.

Steve was surprised by her fear. Then, frowning, he opened the card. He read it aloud:

“Roses are black,

Violets are gray.

On Valentine's Day,

You'll start to decay.”

Steve stared at the handwritten message for a long while. “Do you recognize the handwriting?”

Josie shook her head. She took the card from him and folded it between her hands. “Maybe we shouldn't go out,” she said softly.

“It's a stupid joke,” Steve replied, frowning. “It's just dumb. We shouldn't let it spoil the whole night.” He took her hand, surprised to find it ice-cold. “Come on, Josie. I told Dave Metcalf and Cory Brooks and some other kids we'd meet them at the ice-skating rink.”

Josie pulled her hand from his. “I really don't think we should go out tonight,” she insisted. “The stupid valentines are probably a joke, but what if they're not? What if someone is really crazy enough to . . .” Her voice trailed off. She tossed the card down on the couch. “Let's rent a video and stay here.”

“But we had such a great time the other night,” Steve protested.

He started to say more, but the intercom on the wall clicked on.

They heard crackling sounds, then someone breathing.

Then Rachel's voice, whispery, soft, and teasing. “Someone hates you, Josie,” Rachel said. “Someone really hates you.”

Josie uttered an exasperated cry. She grabbed the sleeve of Steve's sweater. “Let's get out of here!” she cried and started to pull him toward the front door.

“Somebody hates you, Josie,” Rachel repeated over the intercom in a whispery, sing-song voice. “Somebody hates you.”

Steve grabbed his jacket. “We're going ice-skating?”

“I don't care where we go,” Josie replied, pulling her jacket from the front closet. “I just have to get
out
of here! Rachel gives me the
creeps
lately!”

Tossing her jacket over her shoulder, she started to pull open the front door. She turned to see Steve hanging back.

She followed his glance. He was staring at the folded-up valentine on the couch cushion.

“Josie, somebody hates you a lot!” Rachel's voice came over the intercom.

“Steve, I have to get out of here!” Josie cried. “I
can't take this. I really can't.” She motioned for him to hurry.

As Steve made his way to the door, a new voice came on the small speaker on the wall. It was Erica's, and she sounded upset. “Josie, are you going out? The nurse had to leave early and I'm here alone.”

“Yes, I am going out. See you later!” Josie called impatiently into the box.

“But how
can
you?” Erica demanded unhappily.

“What difference is it to you?
You
don't have a date tonight,” Josie said cruelly. Then she added, “I'll take care of Rachel tomorrow. Promise.”

“I don't believe you,” Erica said angrily, her voice making the small speaker vibrate. “Listen, Josie—”

“Bye, I'm gone,” Josie said brusquely and stepped out the front door. Steve followed, a troubled expression on his face, and pulled the front door shut behind him.

It was a cold, clear night. Most of the snow had melted. Small patches stood up on the front lawn like icebergs in a dark ocean.

The bare trees were still as if frozen in place. A pale half moon was high in the charcoal sky. Josie gazed up but couldn't see any stars. Somewhere down the block a dog howled mournfully.

Their sneakers squished on the wet ground as they made their way down the lawn to Steve's car at the curb. Holding on to Steve's arm, Josie glanced at Melissa's house across the street. All the lights were on. She could see someone's shadow behind the drawn shade in an upstairs room.

At the curb she pulled open the car door, started to
lower herself to the seat, then stopped. “Steve, look,” she said, motioning back to the driveway.

Steve turned to follow her gaze.

“It's Luke,” Josie said, lowering her voice to a whisper.

Luke's car was still in the driveway up near the house. In the yellow light from the porch, Josie could see Luke sitting behind the wheel. He seemed to be staring straight ahead, not moving.

“What's his problem?” Steve asked, leaning against the car door as he stared at Luke's car.

“I don't know,” Josie replied, bewildered. “Why is he just sitting there?”

“Think I should go talk to him or something?” Steve suggested.

Josie shook her head. “No. I don't know. I mean, he's okay, I think. Maybe he just wants to be alone or something.”

“Weird,” Steve said, shaking his head. He lowered himself into the car.

As they drove down Fear Street, heading toward town, Josie was surprised to find herself becoming more and more frightened.

She tried to force them away, but the upsetting images of the past week invaded her mind. Muggy dead. The dark puddle of blood. Rachel's giggling response. Rachel so gleeful as she announced that somebody hated Josie. The valentines. The horrible valentines with their scrawled, ugly threats.

She stared out into the passing night, dark yards and houses whirring by, and felt the waves of fear roll over her body. “Steve,” she said softly, touching his
arm as if making sure he was real and not just another image. “Steve, maybe we should turn back.”

“You'll be okay,” he said soothingly. “Really.”

“But those valentines. They all said I'd die today.”

“A stupid joke, Josie,” he replied calmly. “A horrible, stupid joke. Don't worry.”

“But I
am
worried,” Josie admitted in a trembling voice. “I'm very worried. . . .”

E
rica squinted through the darkness to the clock on her bedroom wall: 2:03.

She pulled herself up in bed and lowered her feet to the floor.

Staring at the clock, she stretched and listened to the silence.

The house was dark and still.

I'm the only one awake, Erica told herself unhappily.

Her father was still away on his business trip. Her mother had returned from a party at the neighbors' house at about eleven-thirty and had gone right to bed.

Mom is sleeping peacefully, Erica thought. She's such a sound sleeper, she doesn't know. She doesn't know that it's after two in the morning and Josie isn't home.

I'm the only one who's awake.

With a groan, she stood up and untwisted her nightshirt. Then she made her way across the dark room to her desk, the floorboards creaking under the thin carpet.

She clicked on the desk lamp, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the bright white light. Leaning on the edge of the desk, she reached for the phone directory.