Broken Hearts (10 page)

They talked for a short while to Mrs. McClain, who remained in the house, holding open the glass storm door. Then the two officers walked slowly to their squad car, turned off the flashing light, and drove away.

The McClains' porch light went out, casting the rambling old house into total darkness.

Melissa yawned. She was dying to know what had happened, but it was too late to call. She'd have to
wait until morning. Anyway, things looked pretty normal.

Yawning again, she tugged the curtains back into place and crossed the room to start getting undressed for bed.

♦ ♦ ♦

“That one policeman looked sick,” Josie said quietly. “You know, the redheaded one. When he saw Muggy, I thought he was going to puke.”

“They both acted really grim,” Erica agreed.

The two sisters were in their nightshirts, lying on Erica's bed. Erica's head was on her pillow. Josie was stretched out across the foot of the bed.

Mrs. McClain was in Rachel's room. The house was silent now.

Josie ran her hand along Erica's quilted bedspread. She closed her eyes and pictured the hideous scene on the kitchen floor. After the officers left, promising a serious investigation and warning the McClains to lock their doors from now on, Mrs. McClain had tried to clean up. But the blood had soaked into the linoleum, leaving a dark reminder of the murder that had taken place there.

Josie shuddered. “Poor Muggy.”

“I can't believe it,” Erica said, sitting up and unhooking her long, jangly earrings and setting them down on the bedside table.

“Someone must have come in through the back door,” Josie said. “But why? To rob us?”

“Nothing was taken,” Erica said, shifting her weight.

“Then whoever it was came in just to kill Muggy,” Josie said, thinking out loud. “They knew Muggy was my dog, and . . .”

“We don't know that,” Erica said. “We don't know who—or why.”

“Didn't you hear anything?” Josie asked almost accusingly. She sat up. “Didn't you hear anything at all? In the backyard or the kitchen? Didn't you hear Muggy barking or anything?”

Erica shook her head thoughtfully, struggling to remember. “Not a sound,” she said finally. “Melissa came over for about half an hour . . .”

Josie made a sour face.

“Then I took Rachel up to her room,” Erica continued. “I tried to get Rachel to watch television so I could study, but she seemed nervous tonight, edgy. So I read to her for a while, and then—”

“I don't need a minute-by-minute account of your thrilling night,” Josie snapped impatiently.

“Well, I didn't hear a sound. Mom went grocery shopping. She got back a little after eight-thirty. I remember hearing her talking to Muggy when she put the groceries away. And I remember her yelling at Muggy to stop barking when she was talking to Daddy on the phone. That was at about nine-thirty, I guess.”

“I know who did it,” Josie said bitterly, lost in her own thoughts, barely hearing a word of Erica's. Her eyes watered over. She blinked several times, then wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her nightshirt. “Jenkman.”

“Huh?” Erica pushed herself upright.

“Jenkman,” Josie repeated, her eyes brimming with tears. “That creep. He wanted to hurt me. I'll bet he murdered Muggy to scare me and make me think the threats he's been sending are going to come true.”

“It wasn't Jenkman,” Erica told her sister, speaking softly but firmly.

Josie turned and stared hard at Erica, studying her face. “It wasn't? What makes you so sure?”

“I just know it wasn't Jenkman,” Erica replied with surprising defensiveness. “For one thing, Jenkman didn't send those threatening valentines.”

“How do you know that?” Josie demanded suspiciously.

“He told me,” Erica explained. “He sent those other ones you got. The two funny ones. The ones signed ‘Secret Admirer.'”

“You talked to Jenkman?” Josie asked, her eyes wide with surprise. “When? What about?”

“The other day. He called to talk to you,” Erica said. And then she added with obvious bitterness, “But, of course, you weren't here. Of course, you were out.”

“So?” Josie asked impatiently.

Erica sighed. “So I told him about the ugly threatening cards. He swore he didn't send them. He told me he only sent those two funny cards.”

Josie climbed to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest. She glared at Erica. “And you believed him?”

“Yes,” Erica insisted shrilly. “He's not a liar, Josie.”

Josie uttered a bitter laugh. “Since when are
you
an
expert on Jenkman?” she demanded. “You know, Erica, I think you have a crush on that creep. Look at you. You're blushing.”

Erica turned away. “What if I do?” she said angrily. She swallowed hard. “It doesn't matter. Jenkman doesn't know I exist. I'm just someone to take phone messages for you.”

“He's a creep,” Josie said, making her way to the window and peering out. The light was still on in Melissa's room across the street. “He's a creep and he's dangerous. And he hates me.” She shuddered and stepped back from the window.

“He doesn't hate you,” Erica told her. “He's still sending you valentines, still calling you, still trying to get your attention.”

“Yeah. Get my attention. By killing my dog,” Josie said, her voice catching in her throat. Tears formed in her eyes again. This time she let them run down her cheeks.

“Josie, listen—” Erica started.

“I should call the police back,” Josie interrupted her. “I should tell them to go question Jenkman.”

“It wasn't Jenkman,” Erica insisted softly. “I think it was Luke.”

Her accusation stunned Josie. Josie froze in place, then slowly shook her head. “No, no way,” she said. “Luke has a temper. But he's basically a wimp.”

“Luke is very angry at you,” Erica said.

“Tell me something I don't know,” Josie sneered, rolling her eyes. “But he's basically a wimp, Erica. He wouldn't kill Muggy.”

Erica started to reply, but their mother appeared in
the doorway just then, a worried expression on her face. “Josie, would you go brush Rachel's hair for a bit?”

Josie glanced at the clock on Erica's wall. “But, Mom, it's after midnight,” she protested.

“I know,” Mrs. McClain said, sighing wearily. “But Rachel is very upset. About Muggy, I'm sure. She's very tense, very excited, Josie. I can't get her to go to sleep. Would you help me out? Just go in and talk soothingly to Rachel and brush her hair for a while.”

“Sure, Mom,” Josie replied, shaking her head unhappily. She brushed past her mother and made her way down the hall to Rachel's room.

Rachel was in her nightdress, sitting in the big, overstuffed armchair across from her bed, her hands in her lap. Josie stopped in the doorway to stare at her twin.

She looks so pretty, so childlike, Josie thought. The light from the floor lamp behind the chair illuminated Rachel's hair from behind, giving it a coppery glow. Like a halo, Josie thought. Rachel was like a pale, pretty angel.

“Hi, Rachel. Would you like me to brush your hair?” Josie asked softly. She stepped into the room and picked up the hairbrush from the dresser.

Rachel didn't reply. Her expression was thoughtful, and she seemed to be staring off into the distance.

“It's very late,” Josie said. She stepped behind Rachel, tenderly pulled her long hair back over the armchair, and started to brush it.

As she brushed, she saw a smile form on Rachel's
face in the mirror on the far wall. “You like to have your hair brushed, don't you,” Josie said, yawning.

Rachel's smile grew wider. “Somebody hates you, Josie,” she whispered.

“Huh?” Josie wasn't sure she had heard correctly. “What did you say, Rachel?”

“Somebody hates you,” Rachel repeated a little louder. She giggled. “Somebody really hates you.”

Josie lowered the hairbrush to her side. She moved around the chair and stared at the gleeful grin on Rachel's face. “Rachel, do you know more than you're letting on?” Josie asked.
“Do
you?”

Rachel stared straight ahead, her smile mysterious. She giggled again. “Somebody hates you,” she said teasingly, turning her green eyes on Josie.

Staring back at her smiling twin, Josie felt a stab of cold fear.

A
fter school on Friday afternoon, Josie slammed her locker shut. After brushing her hair out of her eyes, she pulled her wallet from the back compartment of her backpack and started to count her money.

“Where you going?”

Josie saw Erica standing beside her, ready to brave the snow, her wool muffler wrapped several times around the collar of her winter coat.

“I'm going to that new card shop,” Josie told her, shoving her wallet back into the backpack and lifting the heavy bag onto her shoulder. “You know. It's called Greetings. It opened next to The Corner. I've got to buy a valentine for Steve. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and I'll bet all the good ones are already gone.”

“Can I come with you?” Erica asked somewhat forlornly.

“Yeah, sure,” Josie replied, zipping up her down jacket.

“Mom is home today to take care of Rachel,” Erica said, “so we have plenty of time.”

“You have any money?” Josie asked, leading the way to the front doors. “I'm down to about three dollars.”

“I think I have a five,” Erica replied. “But you have to promise to pay me back.”

“Promise.”

They headed out of the school into the gray afternoon. The snow had become hard and icy. Patches of dark ground were showing through. A cold wind gusted and swooped around them, cutting one direction, then the other.

Erica buried her face under her wool muffler. Josie pulled her blue and white ski cap lower and leaned into the wind as they turned up Park Drive, walking quickly.

“I got my math exam back,” she told Erica. “I got a ninety-two.”

“That's great,” Erica said from under the muffler. “I have so much homework, I'm going to be up all night.”

“Poor thing,” Josie replied with mock sympathy. Then she shrieked in fright at the loud burst of sound just behind her.

I've been shot!
she thought.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart seemed to stop.

“Josie, are you okay?” Erica asked, startled by her
sister's terrified reaction. “It was just a car backfiring.” She turned and gestured toward an old Chevy station wagon that had rumbled past.

Josie let her breath out slowly. She forced a laugh. “Oh. Sorry. I-I'm just so nervous ever since . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“You got white as a sheet,” Erica exclaimed, shaking her head. “Did you think it was a gunshot?”

Josie nodded. “I've been so jumpy and sad since Muggy was killed last night. Every little noise makes me jump. All I think about are the threats in those cards and Muggy.”

Erica said something in reply, but her words were drowned out by the roar of a large moving van speeding by. After it passed, the sisters crossed the street and entered the new card shop.

Josie paused in the doorway. It was a long, narrow store with two aisles that ran between stainless-steel shelves loaded nearly to the ceiling with cards. A young woman with close-cropped blond hair sat behind a cash register at the front, a bored expression on her rather plain face. There were several other customers in the store, most of them pawing through the valentines, pulling them out one by one, reading them silently, putting them back in their slots.

Josie turned to the front shelf. She pulled off her red wool gloves, shoved them into her coat pockets, and began examining cards.

“There's more in the back,” the woman at the register called to her. “Those have pretty well been cleaned out.”

“Thanks,” Josie said distractedly. She was reading a
really crude, insulting card. Making a disgusted face, she quickly returned it to the shelf.

Why do people want to insult each other on Valentine's Day? she wondered. Of all days!

Why do people want to kill people on Valentine's Day?

The question crashed uninvited into her mind.

Meanwhile Erica made her way through the narrow, crowded aisle to the back of the shop. An enormous valentine, nearly the size of a wall poster, caught her eye, and she stopped to read the cornball rhyme in it.

When she looked up, she was startled to see Jenkman at the end of her aisle.

He didn't see her at first. He was concentrating on pulling out valentines and examining them. Erica stared at him, waiting for him to recognize her. He was wearing a brown leather bomber jacket and black jeans.

“Hey, Jenkman!” she called finally.

He turned toward her and his face turned bright red. He shoved the cards he'd been holding back on to the shelf. “Oh, uh, hi,” he said, obviously very embarrassed.