Silent Night 3, Page 2

  “Maybe you dialed the wrong number,” Willow offered. “Hang up and try again.”

  Pam shook her head. She knew she hadn’t dialed wrong. Her cousin Reva just wasn’t answering.

  It’s like she knows it’s me and she’s getting her kicks by pretending not to be there, Pam thought angrily. Well, two can play this game. I’ll just let it ring until Reva goes nuts and finally picks up just to stop it.

  Leaning back in the lumpy easy chair, Pam tucked the phone against her shoulder. She picked up a long, cherry-red scarf that was draped over the chair’s arm.

  Reva owes me a favor, she thought, running the scarf through her hands. She has got to come through this time.

  Pam glanced around the living room. It needed painting, the furniture was all worn, and patches of floor showed through the threadbare rug. But fixing up the house was a luxury her family couldn’t afford.

  So was college.

  Pam sighed. Why couldn’t her side of the Dalby family be the rich ones?

  She’d been accepted to a couple of colleges. But her grades weren’t good enough for a scholarship. To earn tuition money, she had taken a job in the Acme Insurance Company, typing and filing. Willow worked there, too, and they became friends.

  “Hey!” Willow broke into Pam’s thoughts. “How long are you going to let that thing ring, anyway?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  Willow shook her head, then unwrapped a stick of gum and folded it into her mouth. The tiny gold hoop in her left nostril wiggled and glinted as she chewed.

  Willow kept urging Pam to get her nose pierced, too. But Pam wasn’t sure she wanted to. It was okay for Willow. It seemed to go with her short, brassy blond hair and the tiny orange lightning bolt tattooed above her right collarbone.

  Pam glanced at her own reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. Bright green eyes. Long blond hair pulled into a ponytail. A round, friendly face. The kind you saw in an ad for down-home cooking or handmade quilts. A nose-ring just didn’t seem to fit.

  The phone kept ringing. “Pick up!” Pam urged. She twisted the red scarf around her hands. “I’ll strangle you with this if you don’t pick up, Reva!”

  “This is getting ridiculous,” Willow muttered, snapping her gum impatiently. “Why don’t you—”

  “Wait, I think somebody’s answering!” Pam interrupted, sitting up in the chair. First she heard a muffled whisper. Then finally, Reva said hello, sounding annoyed.

  “Hi, Reva. It’s Pam.”

  “Pam?” Reva actually sounded confused for a second. “Oh—Pam. Hang on a second.”

  More muffled whispering, then Reva came back on the line. “Hi. I was just talking to my roommate, Grace. She’s spending the holiday with me.”

  “That’s nice. I called to welcome you home,” Pam told her. “How’s Smith?”

  “Please, don’t even mention college to me.” Reva sighed loudly. “It’s totally boring!”

  “Really? I thought college life would be so much fun,” Pam said.

  “You thought wrong,” Reva replied. “We actually have a curfew. We have to sign in and out of the dorm. Can you believe it? They treat us like babies. You’re lucky you’re in the real world, Pam.”

  Sure, Pam thought bitterly. Like I had a choice.

  “I mean, you’re working, making money, meeting people, having business lunches,” Reva continued.

  Right. Five dollars an hour and a bologna sandwich from home. Pam bit her lip and forced herself not to snap at Reva. It was hard, though. Reva knew how much Pam wanted to go to college. She always enjoyed sticking a knife in someone’s sore spot.

  “Well, listen, speaking of business,” Pam said, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” She smoothed the scarf across her legs. It was beautiful—a soft, silky wool scarf, silkscreened with delicate golden snowflakes.

  “You want to talk about business?” Reva asked skeptically. “What business?”

  “My friend, Willow Sorenson—she works at the same place I do,” Pam continued. “Anyway, we took a crafts course together and we made something for Christmas.”

  “Handmade gifts. How . . . charming.”

  Pam ignored the sneer in Reva’s voice. “We didn’t make them to give away,” she said. “We want to sell them. And we thought maybe your father could put them in his stores.”

  Reva cleared her throat. “Actually, Pam, Daddy doesn’t sell clay pots at Dalby’s.”

  Pam gritted her teeth. Reva was such a snob. “It’s not clay pots,” she said, keeping the anger out of her voice. “Listen, how about if Willow and I drive over to your house?”

  “Now?”

  “We’ll only stay ten minutes,” Pam assured her. “We’re really anxious to show these to you.”

  “Well, okay. Sure, why not? You can meet my roommate, Grace,” Reva said.

  “Great! Thanks, Reva. We’ll be right over.” Pam hung up and jumped from the chair. “Come on. Let’s get going,” she said to Willow.

  “The princess actually agreed to see us, huh?” Willow asked sarcastically.

  Pam nodded as she and Willow began gathering the long scarves from the coffee table and carefully folding them into shopping bags. “I wish we didn’t have to talk to her at all,” she declared. “But Reva’s father does almost anything she asks. And if she likes our scarves, then Uncle Robert will definitely take them. Reva is our best chance.”

  Willow picked up a bag and grabbed her car keys. Pam took the other bag and followed her out the door. They climbed into Willow’s battered blue VW Rabbit and drove down Fear Street.

  “Where does she live?” Willow asked.

  “North Hills,” Pam told her. “Where else?”

  “Very fancy,” Willow commented. “I always wondered what it would be like to live there.”

  Pam grinned. “If we make a bundle on these scarves, maybe you’ll get a chance to find out.”

  “Yeah!” Willow agreed. “Hey, and if the scarves are a hit, people will want more of our designs. Not only scarves, but clothes, too!”

  “We could actually start our own design company,” Pam agreed excitedly. “We’d be the designers and hire people to do the work for us.”

  “And we’d never have to set foot in the Acme Insurance office again,” Willow added with a laugh. “I can’t wait to kiss that place good-bye. Let’s hope your cousin really likes the scarves.”

  “She will,” Pam assured her. “If there’s one good thing about Reva, it’s her taste.”

  Five minutes later, the girls pulled to a stop in the curved drive in front of the Dalby mansion. Chatting excitedly about everything they’d do with the money their scarves would bring in, they carried the shopping bags to the front door and pushed the bell.

  Pam smoothed a strand of hair back, wishing she’d taken the time to brush it out. Being at Reva’s house always made her feel slightly grubby.

  Stop thinking like that, she told herself. Reva is no better than you are. She just has more money.

  After a moment, a maid pulled the door open slightly and peered out at them. “Yes?”

  “Hi. Remember me? I’m Pam, Reva’s cousin,” Pam told her. “She’s expecting us.” She picked up her shopping bag and waited for the maid to pull the door all the way open.

  But the maid didn’t move. “I’m sorry. There must be some mistake,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” Pam asked.

  “I mean Miss Dalby isn’t home.”

  “What? I just talked to her ten minutes ago,” Pam protested. “She knew we were coming.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” the maid informed her. “All I know is that Miss Dalby and her friend left five minutes ago.”

  “But she told us to come over!” Pam insisted.

  The maid shook her head. “Maybe you misunderstood her. I’ll be sure to tell her you were here.” She closed the door, leaving Pam and Willow alone on the cold stone porch.

  Willow tossed her head. �
��Looks like the princess had something more important to do than talk to us.”

  “Right.” Pam’s face burned with anger. “There was no ‘mistake’!” she cried, as she and Willow started back toward the car. “And I didn’t ‘misunderstand’ anything! Reva knew we were coming. She just wanted to put me in my place. Why does she always do this to me?”

  Willow turned and glanced back at the mansion, her pale blue eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry,” she muttered. “We’ll find a way to pay her back.”

  Pam stared at her. “What? What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” Willow cracked her gum and smiled grimly. “Nothing at all.”

  Chapter 4

  NIGHT TERRORS

  Reva stood on the main floor of Dalby’s Department Store and gazed around nervously.

  I shouldn’t have come here to pick Daddy up. I should have let the driver bring him home.

  The store stood empty, closed for the day. The main lights had been turned off and the dim security lights cast long shadows over the glass counters.

  I shouldn’t have come here, Reva thought again. Being in the store after closing still gives me the creeps.

  Turning quickly, Reva glanced behind her. No one stood there, aiming a gun, ready to kill her. It’s over, she reminded herself. The kidnapping happened a year ago.

  Go upstairs and get Daddy. He’s waiting.

  Reva gave herself a shake, then started across the darkened floor into the cosmetics department.

  What was that noise?

  Reva spun around again.

  No one.

  Running her hand along the cool glass of a perfume counter, Reva hurried through the cosmetics department. She crossed an aisle and began making her way past racks of winter coats and displays of sweaters.

  A group of shadowy, dark-coated figures suddenly loomed up in front of her.

  Gasping, Reva stumbled backward into a rack of parkas. The heavy jackets seemed to close in on her. She frantically batted at them and scrambled away.

  The figures were still there.

  They didn’t move or come after her. They just stared down at her with glassy eyes in their stony faces.

  Glassy eyes.

  Smooth, stony faces.

  Mannequins.

  Reva let out a shaky breath. She’d been terrified by a bunch of plastic mannequins.

  Scolding herself, she continued through the clothing department.

  More mannequins arranged in fashion-model poses peered down at her as she made her way toward the bank of elevators on the far wall.

  When she reached it, she stopped, confused and stunned.

  The elevators had disappeared.

  The wall was totally solid.

  What was going on? The elevators had to be here!

  Reva ran her hands along the wall. No gleaming elevator doors, no shiny buttons to push.

  Had she gotten turned around in the darkness?

  It didn’t seem possible, but . . .

  Reva gasped as a tune began to crackle from the loudspeakers.

  “Silent Night.”

  Reva shivered with fright. The same song had played the night of the kidnapping. The night she’d almost been killed.

  And now it was playing again.

  “Silent Night.”

  Her heartbeat drummed in her ears. Sweat broke out on her forehead.

  She had to get upstairs. Get her father. And get out of here!

  The music seemed to grow louder as Reva hurried back through the clothing department toward the opposite side of the store.

  Past the hovering mannequins, through the racks of coats, and back into the cosmetics department.

  Find the elevators and get out of here!

  The music soared. It was getting louder!

  Breaking into a run, Reva knocked into a display of perfume bottles. Glass shattered on the polished floor. A sweet, overpowering scent rose into the air.

  Reva kept running.

  The music pounded in her ears.

  Reva dashed past a display of designer makeup and raced toward the far wall.

  No elevators here, either.

  Where were they? How could elevators just disappear?

  Frantic to get away from the music, she raced back through the cosmetics department, then turned toward the center of the store where the escalators were. They’d be turned off, of course, but at least she could climb them up to the executive offices on the sixth floor.

  Huh? The escalators were gone, too.

  Reva stared at the empty space, shaking her head in disbelief.

  What was going on?

  “Silent Night” stopped, then started again.

  The music didn’t just play by itself, Reva thought. Somebody had to turn it on.

  Somebody had changed the store around. Made things disappear. Made it so she couldn’t get away.

  Trapped her in here!

  Reva suddenly shivered as she heard movement behind her.

  Creaking, groaning sounds.

  And a loud thumping.

  Footsteps.

  Terrified, Reva spun around.

  And screamed.

  The mannequins! The mannequins were moving stiffly down the aisle toward her.

  Alive, Reva thought. The mannequins are alive!

  Their plastic limbs creaked as they came closer.

  Closer.

  Reva looked to her right, to her left.

  More mannequins. Dressed in winter coats, in beaded evening gowns, in delicate silk lounging robes, they stalked toward her.

  Screaming again, Reva backed up.

  The mannequins closed in.

  Surrounded her.

  “Please!” Reva gasped. “Stop!”

  The mannequins pressed closer.

  Their faces were cold and blank.

  Their glassy eyes gleamed in the dull light.

  Empty eyes.

  Dead eyes.

  Reva tried to scream again, but the mannequins pressed even closer. She sank to her knees, felt their weight on top of her.

  She couldn’t breathe!

  They were smothering her!

  Please! she thought. Please!

  Something soft and thick filled her mouth.

  I’m going to die!

  Reva jerked her head aside and tried to take a deep breath.

  Sweet, cool air filled her lungs. Her eyes snapped open to darkness.

  Empty, quiet darkness.

  No mannequins. No “Silent Night.”

  No store.

  A nightmare, Reva realized with relief. She shoved her thick comforter away from her face and took another deep breath.

  She was in her bed, in her room.

  She’d had a hideous nightmare.

  Another nightmare.

  So many horrible things had happened to her at the store, it was no wonder she had nightmares about it.

  Pushing her damp hair off her forehead, Reva groaned and sat up.

  And froze in terror as two hands grabbed her in the darkness.

  Chapter 5

  MORE NIGHT TERRORS

  Reva screamed and rolled away. The comforter tangled itself around her legs. She couldn’t get out of the bed. Terrified, she swung her arms wildly.

  Her fist collided with something, and she heard a grunt. She drew her arm back again.

  “Reva!” a voice cried. “What are you trying to do—kill me?”

  Reva’s arm froze in midair. “Michael?”

  “Who did you think?” her little brother snapped angrily.

  Reva peered at him. His blue eyes were wide, his red hair stuck up in every direction. “What are you doing in here?” she demanded. “You scared me to death!”

  “Yeah, well you punched me. Hard,” Michael told her, rubbing his arm. “That makes us even.”

  Reva sighed and flopped back against her pillow. First a nightmare and now Michael. Would she ever get any sleep? “What are you doing in my room?” she demanded again.

  Michael
hopped onto the bed. “It’s your roommate,” he whispered.

  “Grace? What about her?”

  “She woke me up. I mean, her voice did,” Michael explained. “She sounds really freaked.”

  Reva rolled her eyes. If she’d known Grace was going to be such a pain, she never would have invited her. “Turn on your radio or something,” she told Michael, yawning. “Or pull the pillow over your head. Count sheep.”

  “I can’t go back to sleep now!” Michael protested. “And you can’t either.”

  “Watch me,” Reva said with another yawn.

  “No!” Michael yanked the comforter onto the floor. “I told you, Grace is freaking out! We have to go see if she’s all right!”

  Reva stared at the ceiling and counted to ten. “Okay, okay,” she grumbled. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and peered at her clock. Two-fifteen in the morning. Grace better have a good excuse, she thought.

  “Hurry up!” Michael urged as Reva fumbled with her silk bathrobe. “She might be hurt or something. Or maybe someone is breaking in!”

  Reva frowned at him. “You don’t have to sound so excited.”

  “Why not? It will be fun!” Jumping off the bed, Michael spun around and did one of his ninja kicks. “I can kill whoever tries to break in! One chop to the neck and he’ll be dead meat!”

  “Forget it,” Reva told him. Daddy wasn’t kidding, she thought. Michael really is into violent stuff. “You’re going back to your room.”

  “But I’m the Avenger!” Michael protested. “I can help!”

  “Look, nobody’s in there with Grace,” Reva told him. “She’s probably talking in her sleep.” She tied her robe, then crossed to the door.

  The hall stood empty. Taking Michael by the hand, she led him to his room. “Thanks for waking me, Michael,” she told him. “I’m sure Grace is okay, but I’ll go check. You go back to bed.”

  Michael pouted. “Promise you’ll come get me if anything exciting is happening?”

  Reva ruffled his already messy hair. “Promise.”

  As soon as Michael closed his door, Reva raked her fingers through her own hair and tightened the belt on her bathrobe. From Grace’s room next door, she could hear low, intense murmuring.