Lurker (11 page)

In Friday morning gym class, Laurel tried to get as much information as she could between Mr. Lombard's instructions on Tae Kwan Do techniques. Mandy was still high from the date and wanted to tell Laurel everything, but knew it would have to wait until lunch. In the meantime, she let out a few juicy details—about Dale, about their dinner—just to drive Laurel nuts.

In the cafeteria, once Drew joined them, she told her friends everything, starting with Dale's phone call after school telling her to dress up, then about arriving at Mimi's and feeling like a total looz in her dress. She told them about the restaurant and the food and the conversation and the kiss good night. At first, Drew interrupted a
lot, wanting to talk about similar moments she and Jacob shared. After Laurel threatened to make her eat her own hair, Drew quieted.

“And you think the leopard really changed his spots?” Laurel asked.

“I do,” Mandy said. “I can't explain it, but Nicki's dying really affected him. He's romantic and sweet, but he's still Dale, you know?”

“Sounds like we have a winner,” Laurel said. “Now, what about voting the other one off the island o' Mandy?”

“Ugh,” Mandy said. “I know. I'm doing it tonight after school.”

“What are you going to tell him?” Drew asked.

“The truth.”

“Never a good idea,” Laurel said. “But it's your life. Do what you have to.”

 

That night, Mandy stared at her buddy list, more specifically at Kyle's username.
I so don't want to do this,
she thought.
How am I supposed to just say ‘Hi, I never want to chat with you again'?
Uncomfortable, Mandy shifted in her chair and took a deep breath.
Just like a bandage. It's better to yank and get it over with.

No
, Mandy thought,
don't use webspeak
. She wanted Kyle to know that she was serious and using a bunch of symbols in place of words would look lame, like it was just another stupid chat.

Mandy jerked away from the monitor as if the text tried to lunge out and grab her throat. A high squeal leaped behind her lips, and she struggled to keep from screaming. It was a joke. A sick joke. It had to be. She reached toward the keyboard with trembling fingers.

Now Mandy did scream. She shoved away from the desk, stumbling over the chair as she tried to put distance between herself and the monitor. Her mind raced. Her heart fluttered like a humming
bird's wings against her ribs.
No. No. No,
she thought. It couldn't be Kyle. The man that killed Nicki was old, stooped and grotesque. She saw him on the video. Everyone saw him. A man with a witch's face. Kyle looked nothing like him, and the picture must have come from Kyle. He posed for her exactly as she asked, with the hairbrush, saluting. He was young and handsome and…the picture changed. No. Pictures don't just change. No way.

“No,” she cried to the room.

A cold chill clung to her skin like an icy rash. She trembled violently beneath it.
Call help
, she thought.
Figure this out later, but for now, call help. You're alone in the house.

Mandy approached the desk as she might a hive of bees. Slow steps brought her shaking to the edge. She snatched the cell phone from the desk, then leaped back. She fumbled the device open and punched in 911, then hit send and put the phone to her ear.

“Still want to chat on the phone?” a high rasping voice asked. Then a piercing stutter erupted through the speaker. “Hahahahahahahahahahaha.”

She screamed and threw the phone across the
room, repulsed by the laughter crawling through it. Her skin tightened and goose-pimpled. Mandy hugged herself against the sensation, but she felt dirty, as if she'd just squirmed out of the Witchman's filthy embrace.

Mandy looked around the bedroom, uncertain what to do. She tried to get her heartbeat under control by taking deep, ragged breaths. Tears burned her eyes, blurred her vision. She wiped the hot tears away frantically so she could see.

Get out of the house,
she told herself.
Go to a neighbor's, use their phone. If Kyle knows my cell number, he probably knows my home number and my address!

What if I want 2 hurt u?

Oh God
, she thought. Mandy sprinted from the bedroom and into the hall. She hit the stairs running, flying blindly down them, her only thought to get someplace else, someplace safe. She slid on the tiles, slowing herself to unlock the front door. Her fingers slipped on the deadbolt handle. Slipped again. Finally, it turned and she grasped the knob, threw the door open, and raced forward, right into his arms.

 

“Mandy,” Dale said. “Mandy. Hey, come on. Calm down. It's just me.”

Struggling blindly against the guy holding her, not yet able to see Dale where she'd seen Kyle only moments before, Mandy threw an arm out and hit her boyfriend's shoulder as hard as she could.

“Hey!” Dale yelped, shaking her hard until she was really seeing him. “Hey,” he said, his voice quieter, soothing. “It's me.”

Recognition settled over her. Relieved to be held by familiar and welcomed hands, Mandy stopped struggling. More than anything, she just wanted to fall into his arms and be held until the fear passed, but there was no time.

“Come on,” she said, pulling out of Dale's grasp. She turned and closed the front door. “We have to go.”

Dale looked concerned, but he wasn't ready to move just yet. His instinct to protect her had kicked in, and he looked ready for a fight. “Go where? What's going on? Is someone in your house?”

“No, it's just…”

Mandy took more deep breaths and shook her
hands before her to break out the last of the panic. Dale was here. She wasn't alone, and that was something. He had his cell phone. Kyle wouldn't have that number; there would be no way for him to have it. She never mentioned Dale by name in their chats. They could call the police and wait together.

Inside, Mandy realized that Dale might be hurt if she told him the truth. She had, after all, chatted with Kyle for weeks. Dale would take that as cheating, but she couldn't worry about that right now. If he hadn't been doing the same thing, Mandy never would have replied to Kyle.

“I have to tell you something,” Mandy said. “But I'm not sure I know how.”

Still, she found a way. A moment later, the story of how she met Kyle and why she replied to him in the first place came pouring out of her mouth. When she saw a cloud of anger fall over Dale's face, she talked faster, explaining that she and the boy never met, never even spoke on the phone. “Now that we're back together, I told him I couldn't chat with him anymore.”

Dale nodded his head, still looking hurt and angry. “So, what did he say?”

“Come on,” Mandy said. “I'll show you.”

She led him up the stairs. “At first, he was really cool, we just chatted about what was happening, you know, ever since Nicki was killed. He was always a little weird, but I felt bad for him, because he told me his parents were really strict and a bunch of other stuff.” As they walked into her bedroom, Mandy paused and turned to Dale. “And I was upset because
we
weren't together, you know?”

Dale nodded his head, let Mandy kiss him. His eyes were cold. He understood, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

“Then tonight,” Mandy said, taking Dale's hand and leading him to the monitor, “He wrote…”

They stared at a blank screen. At first, Mandy thought her screen saver was on. She tapped the return key. Hit it harder.

“No,” she said. “I didn't shut this down.”

“Are you sure?” Dale asked. “You were pretty upset.”

“I'm sure,” she said, seeing her reflection in the dark panel. She really jabbed at the return key, giving it a solid click. Nothing. “How?”

Without the instant message from Kyle, she had no proof. It was her word against his.
No wait,
she
thought.
The cell phone call.
Mandy pulled away from Dale and skirted her bed, rushing to the far corner where her cell phone lay closed. Mandy picked up the device, opened it, and searched her log for the last incoming call.

The last call logged to her cell phone came from Laurel that morning. No other incoming calls, or outgoing calls—not even her 911 call was listed.

“This isn't possible,” Mandy said. She turned to Dale, who stood by the desk. “When I tried to call the police, he was on the line.”

“You gave him your cell phone number?” Dale asked. “I thought you said you guys never talked on the phone?”

“We didn't. I never gave him the number. I don't know how he got it.”

She could tell by his expression that Dale didn't believe her. Though it hurt, she was more worried about finding something solid she could take to the police. The only thing left was the picture. She sat in the chair at her desk, powered up her computer, nervously gnawing her thumbnail. Dale stood glowering over her.

“Don't you think it's kind of stupid to start up a conversation with some guy right after Nicki got
killed? I mean, you never know who you're chatting with.”

“I know. That's why I made him send me a very specific picture of himself, so I'd know it was just taken and not a phony.”

“Where's the picture?”

“I'll show you as soon as this thing comes on.”

It took forever—the screen glowed and icons began popping up, but it all seemed to be happening very slowly. When it finally loaded, Mandy guided her cursor to the file with Kyle's picture and clicked. She was horrified when the window opened.

“God, Mandy,” Dale said, the anger clear in his voice. “What the hell were you thinking? The guy looks forty years old.”

 

Mandy stared at the picture, wondering if she was losing her mind. Dale was right; the man in the photograph did look forty years old, nothing like the boy who once saluted her. The man still saluted, but now his face sagged. Wrinkles scored his eyes and mouth. His nose was larger. Where Kyle's neatly brushed blond hair was, now sprouted tufts nearly gray. His embarrassed expression had also hardened, and
now he looked amused but cruel. In his hand, he still held somethin g, but it no longer resembled a hairbrush, just a black smudge, like thick smoke, hovering over something with a sharp, silver edge.

“I don't believe this,” Dale said. “Was being with me so bad you had to go chasing Grandpa Munster?”

Mandy shouted, “He didn't look like this! The picture is changing!”

“Yeah,” Dale said. “That happens all the time.”

“Dammit, Dale. I'm not lying. Drew and Laurel both saw this just last week. They'll tell you he didn't look like this.”

“Look, whatever,” he said. “The guy threatened you. Let's call the cops and get this over with.”

But what was Mandy going to tell them? It all seemed so impossible: no cell phone record; no instant message; her computer shutting down on its own; a picture of a guy her father's age, someone she had no business chatting with in the first place. Who was going to believe her? They'd think she deserved what was happening to her for being so stupid.

She knew she had to call the police, but the ache in her stomach kicked painfully, assuring her that the next few hours were going to be miserable.