But as rationalizations swept through her mind, she began to be aware of something else. It came through to her slowly and faintly, and it took her several moments even to realize what it was.
A sound. A soft, muffled sound . . . like . . . ringing?
Lucy couldn't move. With mounting fear, she strained to listen, and her brain struggled to compute.
Yes
. . .
definitely a ringing sound
. . .
A telephone.
Goose bumps crept along her spine. Angela's telephone was ringing, and as Lucy turned reluctantly toward the sound, she heard Angela's answering machine kick on. “Hi,” purred the sultry voice. “This is Angela. If you think you can handle me, leave a message.”
Nobody spoke.
Lucy heard only silence on the other end of the line.
Terrible, frightening silence . . . as someone waited.
Wrong number
, Lucy thought franticallyâ
everyone knows Angela's missingâno one who knows her would be doing this!
Yet she felt herself walking toward the phone. Maneuvering through the darkness, as the silence on the answering machine stretched on and on and on . . .
In slow motion, Lucy picked up the receiver.
“Hello?” she whispered.
And the voice that answered turned her blood to ice.
“It's so dark here,” Angela sobbed, “I can't get back!”
“
Angela!
” Lucy screamed.
She pressed the receiver hard against her ear, her voice rising in panic, her heart racing out of control.
“Angela! It's Lucy! Where are you? Are you okay?”
But there was nothing but static now.
“
Angela!
”
Frantically, Lucy began pushing buttons, but there was no voice, no dial tone, and after several more seconds, no noise at all.
“Hello?” she cried. “Hello?
Angela!
Angela, don't hang upâplease talk to me!”
In desperation Lucy jerked the telephone from Angela's desk.
And that's when the truth finally hit her.
The cord was plugged into the wall.
But the electricity was still out.
10
It's a trickâit has to be some kind of trick!
Dropping everything, Lucy ran into the hallway and stumbled the last few feet to her room.
A cruel, sick joke! Kids from school tormenting me, because of Byron, because of Angelaâ
She locked her door and braced her back against it. Blood pounded in her ears, and her body jolted with every terrified heartbeat.
“Guilt's such a weird power
. . .
It makes people do crazy things
. . .
Mean, hateful things sometimes
. . .
”
Hadn't Dakota tried to warn her? Hadn't Dakota tried to warn her just today?
Lucy's head spun wildly. Maybe Dakota wasn't really who she seemed to be; maybe she wasn't a friend at all. Maybe her warning had all been part of this huge, sick joke she and her
real
friends had already been planning to spring on Lucy . . .
Calm down. Breathe. Think.
Lucy's palms pressed flat against the door. Her spine was rigid. Her vision blurred, then focused. Her eyes made a slow, thorough sweep of the shadows. The sliding glass doors were still shut; no invisible presence alerted her instincts to danger. Long minutes crept by. Finally she forced herself over to the nightstand and took the flashlight from the drawer.
The bright beam of light was a lifeline.
Still shaking, Lucy went into the bathroom and locked the connecting door to Angela's room. Then she sat down on the edge of her bed and gripped the flashlight to her chest.
Damn them!
How could anyone be so mean, so heartless? Hadn't she been through enough? Would guilt and blame cling to her for the rest of her life?
Yet she couldn't figure out how they'd done it, how they'd managed to rig the whole scenario. Even with high-tech knowledge, wouldn't someone have had to get into the house to pull it off? Maybe they'd caused the power outage, too. But how had they managed to bypass such a sophisticated security system? It just didn't make any sense.
Unless
. . .
Lucy's breath caught in her throat. She squeezed the flashlight tighter, so tight that her fingers ached.
No!
No, what happened back there in Angela's room
couldn't
have had anything to do with psychic powers or gifts or curses. Her body hadn't signaled her like it so often had in the past. She hadn't seen visions; there hadn't been a feeling or impression or a warning too overwhelming to ignore. What had happened just now wasn't like anything she'd ever experienced.
So, no. No! It couldn't have been just me
.
Yet no matter how much she argued with herself, she couldn't quite shut out the whisper in her mind. The persistent little whisper that kept nagging her, trying to get through.
What if it's not a joke? What if it's real? What are you going to do?
Moaning softly, Lucy lowered her head and cradled it in her arms.
No, no, there's a logical explanation, it's a horrible trick, and Florence just forgot and left the window open!
Because she couldn't bear to think otherwise. Because the sound of Angela's voice and the prospects of Angela's fate were just too chilling to imagine.
Imagine? Maybe I
did
imagine it. Maybe I had a memory lapse or blacked out or hallucinated. One of those things that people with head injuries are supposed to do
.
Helplessness engulfed her. She couldn't call the policeâthey'd never believe her. She couldn't tell Ireneâher aunt would put her straight into the hospital. So who? Dr. Fielding with his comfort-coated skepticism? All Lucy knew for sure was that she couldn't stay here a minute longer. She had to leave, and she had to leave
now
.
Leading with the flashlight, she hurried downstairs, yanked her coat from the closet, and stopped to check the battery backup on the security system.
And that's when she remembered she didn't have a car.
What time is it anyway?
She looked at her watch, surprised to see that it was after seven. Surely Matt should have been here by nowâsurely he would have rung the doorbell when he dropped off the car.
Lucy pulled aside the front curtains and peered out at the driveway. The red Corvette was sitting there, parked about halfway down, covered with a thin layer of snow.
That's strange
. . .
Grabbing her purse, she slammed the door behind her. But as she cut across the lawn and got closer to the car, she began to slow down.
The last thing in the world she wanted to do right now was drive that thing. Not after what had just happened upstairs. Not after what she'd just heard.
Lucy stopped. She stared at the Corvette and felt tiny prickles of apprehension creep along her spine. Maybe she should call a cab. She had no clue about taxi service here in Pine Ridgeâ
or
the drivers. And right now she didn't trust anybody.
Not anybody. Not even myself.
She took her time going around the sports car, brushing off the feathery snow, shining her flashlight in all the windows. She told herself she was being silly; she told herself she was being safe. When she tried the handle, the door came open, unnerving her even more.
Why didn't Matt lock it? Why didn't he at least tell me he was here?
Climbing inside, she noticed the air was slightly warm, as though the heater had only recently been shut off. She closed the door and began hunting for the key.
Both visors were empty. Lucy ran her hands along the floor mats, then rummaged nervously through the glove box. She searched the backseat area but found nothing. Maybe it wasn't here at all. Maybe Matt had forgotten to leave it. Leaning her forehead on the steering wheel, she tried to stay calm. Snow was thickening on the windshield, and the car was getting cold.
On a whim, Lucy bent down and began groping beneath the seats. Far back under the driver's side, her fingers made contact with something soft and bulky, like thick cloth. It had been wedged in so tight, it took several minutes of intense pulling to finally work it free.
Lucy stared down at the bundle in her hands. By the glow of her flashlight, she began to open the heavy folds of fabric. A blanket of some kind . . . a blanket that seemed familiar . . . covered with dead leaves and pine needles and stained with mud . . .
And with something wrapped inside it . . .
“No,” Lucy whispered. “Oh God . . .”
Most of the jacket was burned awayâjust charred holes and black tattersâyet Lucy recognized it at once. Remembered the way it had looked on Byron the very first time she'd met him . . . and in that last split second before the crash.
She needed air. She couldn't breathe. The car was too small, too suffocating, and she clawed at the door, but it wouldn't open.
She didn't even notice the car key as it fell out of the blanket. Or when it landed on the floor at her feet.
She only saw the snowflakes turning to ashes as she slumped forward over the steering wheel.
11
“Lucy,” the voice was saying. “I've got you, Lucyâyou're safe.”
Someone was holding her.
She could feel strong arms around her, and her head was tilted sideways, resting on somebody's chest.
“Let's get you inside,” the voice murmured.
I know that voice.
“Lucy? Just relax . . . just lean against me.”
Yes
. . .
yes
. . .
I know that voice, but I can't quite place it
. . .
For a split second of panic, Lucy thought she might be back again, back in the places of her nightmares, back in the shadowy cave, the cold wet woods, the deserted road. But then, as her eyes began to open, she could see a world of pure white, and a door with a large brass knocker that looked vaguely familiar.
“Nobody's answering,” the voice was telling her now. “Where the hell's your aunt?”
Lucy barely managed to shake her head.
“Then what's the code?” the voice asked. “Lucy, can you give me the code?”
The code
. . .
Weakly, she squinted up into a face. A worried face, but calmly reassuring as well. His hair was sifted with snowflakes, and as a gust of wind hit the two of them, he drew Lucy closer into his warmth.
“Matt?” she whispered.
“Do you remember the security code, Lucy?” he asked her again. “I need to get you inside.”
Her head was beginning to clear. She realized they were on the front porch, and that she was shivering from head to toe. With sudden clarity, images of the blanket and burned jacket burst into her mind, and she immediately began to struggle.
“Hey, calm down,” Matt held her tighter. “I told you, everything's okayâ”
“No, those things in the car!”
“What things?”
“In the carâthe blanket, Byron's jacketâyou must have seen themâ”
“Lucy, I didn't see anything but you. What are you talking about?”
“He put them there! He must know where I liveâhow can he
know
that?”
“Ssh . . . Listen to meâ”
“Why did you leave the car unlocked? Why didn't you make sure no one was following you? You must have led him straight here!”
“Stop it, Lucy, you're not making any sense.” The shake he gave her was gentle, but firm. “Whatever this is about, we'll
discuss
it. I
promise
. But right now we need to go inside without setting off the alarm and looking like two half-wit burglars.”
“But I
want
the police to come! They need to get fingerprints and DNAâ”
“Lucy. Tell me the code.”
The tone of his voice got through to her at last. It took her several minutes, but she was finally able to recite the correct numbers in their proper sequence. Then Matt turned the key, stepped into the house, andâfollowing Lucy's garbled directionsâdisarmed the system.
“Where's the couch?” Pausing at the foot of the stairs, he raised a quizzical eyebrow and looked for a place to set her down. “Couch, chair, or bed. Your choice.”
But Lucy was babbling again. “The blanket? It was the one I took when I was trying to escape. The police will
have
to believe me now.”
“Where would you be the most comfortable?”
“No, no, I can walk.”
“Don't argue with me.”
Seeing the determination on his face, Lucy pointed to a doorway. “The den's through there. But you've
got
to call the police, Matt. He had Byron's jacket, don't you understand? The same one Byron was wearing when we crashed! How could he have Byron's jacket? And I lost that blanket in the woods, so how did he find it? Why is he doing this to me?”
“Hush, Lucy.” Carefully Matt lowered her to the couch, then began unbuttoning her coat. “Take this off and wrap up in something warm.” He pulled the wool afghan from one end of the sofa and tucked it snugly around her. “I should probably take you to the emergency room. You're half frozen.”
“Don't call a doctorâcall the
police
! Haven't you heard a single word I've said?”
“What about tea? Do you like tea?”
Frustrated, Lucy grabbed his sleeve. “Listen to me. You've
got
to get that stuff from the car. I didn't have any evidence before, but now I do, and if he's out there right now watching us, the police might be able to catch him!”