Temptation (17 page)

He refocused, moved a little closer, made sure the light was right, and snapped again, making sure that both April and Gabri were in the frame.

April looked up. Matt ducked back against the side of the booth.

Had she spotted him?

He watched her intently, poking his head out gingerly from beside the wall of the booth.

No. She turned back to Gabri.

He didn't want to be seen. Gabri, he knew, would immediately guess what Matt was up to. Matt shuddered. There was no telling what Gabri might do to keep Matt from getting his proof.

He waited out of sight until he saw them board the Ferris wheel. Using the built-in zoom lens, he snapped them sitting side by side in the metal car.

He followed them after their ride as they made their way along the row of game booths. Trailing behind, keeping on the other side of the wide aisle, Matt clicked snapshot after snapshot.

He tried to ignore how close they seemed, how happy April appeared to be with Gabri, how comfortable they seemed with each other. All that would change, he kept assuring himself, as soon as his pictures proved the truth about Gabri.

With just a few shots left on the film, he stepped into the center of the crowded aisle as April and Gabri stopped to watch the carousel. April turned suddenly and spotted him.

At first, she pretended she didn't recognize him. Then,
knowing that Matt was watching, she turned back to Gabri, put her arm around him affectionately, and kissed him on the cheek.

That's okay, April, Matt thought glumly, replacing the camera in its case. You'll feel differently when I show you the truth.

You'll feel differently after I've saved your life.

He didn't blame her for being angry at him. He'd given her no reason to believe him.

But now he had the reason right in his hands.

He had to get the pictures developed as quickly as possible. He had to show them to her as quickly as possible. Watching April snuggle up against Gabri, their fingers entwined, leaning against each other as the carousel spun behind them, Matt knew he had to hurry.

Holding the camera tightly with both hands, he turned and ran from the carnival field. Someone called to him—Ben, probably—but he didn't stop or turn around.

He crossed the parking lot, cutting through the rows of cars, and jogged onto Main Street. The one-hour film-developing store was just a block away, on the corner of Dune Lane.

One hour, Matt thought, his excitement driving him on as he made his way through the couples and small groups of people strolling along Main Street.

Just one hour and this nightmare will be over.

He called back an apology to a middle-aged man holding a double-dip ice-cream cone he had accidentally run into, then bounded across Dune Lane without stopping at the corner to check for traffic.

A blue station wagon squealed to a halt at the corner. The driver yelled something at Matt.

One hour is all Matt heard.

One hour to get my photos. One hour to get my proof.

He grabbed the doorknob on the store's front door, turned it, and pulled hard.

It took him several seconds to realize that the film-developing store was dark and closed.

Matt's alarm went off at eight the next morning. His first waking thought was of April. And the film.

I've got to save April. I've got to show her the pictures. The proof.

He pulled on some clothes, slugged down a glass of orange juice, and hurried out of the house before his parents had even awakened. As he jogged to town, he kept one hand in his jeans pocket, wrapped tightly around the plastic canister of film.

A fog had roiled in off the ocean during the night. It was slowly lifting as Matt arrived on Main Street, but the sky was still overcast, the air cool, and patches of mist floated among the low buildings.

Like most of the shops in Sandy Hollow, the film-developing store didn't open till ten. Matt wandered back and forth along the nearly deserted street, his hand still wrapped protectively around the roll of film in his pocket. He didn't stop to look in store windows.
He kept walking, pacing impatiently, checking his watch every five minutes.

As he paced back and forth along the street, he had the troubling feeling that Gabri might pop up suddenly, force him behind one of the stores, and steal the film from him, steal away his proof.

But, of course, that was foolish. Gabri would never appear in the daylight.

Seeing that it was still only nine-thirty, Matt took a seat at the counter in the Seabreeze Coffee Shop and ordered a cup of coffee. He hated the taste of coffee, but he had to do something to kill the next half hour. Filling the cup up to the brim with milk, he sipped it slowly, wondering why people liked the bitter taste so much, his eyes on the neon-circled wall clock behind the counter.

He was back at the film-developing store at five to ten, just as the manager, a young man with spiked red hair and a green emeraldlike stud in one ear, was unlocking the door. “Morning,” he said warily, studying Matt before letting him into the store. “You're here bright and early.”

Matt pulled the plastic film canister from his pocket and set it down on the glass counter. “I—I have this film,” he stammered. “I mean, I'm kind of in a hurry.”

The manager removed a container of coffee from a paper bag and slowly pulled off the plastic lid, eyeing Matt. “It'll take me a little while to get the machine up and running,” he said, yawning.

“But can I have the prints in an hour?” Matt asked eagerly.

The young man shook his head. “Come back around eleven-thirty.” He wrote down Matt's name and local phone number.
“We have a special this week on a second set of prints. Half price for a second set of three-by-fives.”

“No thanks,” Matt replied. “Eleven-thirty? They'll be ready?”

The young man nodded. “These must be some pretty hot photos,” he said, leering at Matt. “Maybe I'll want to make a set for myself.” He laughed loudly to show that he was joking. But Matt turned and hurried out without cracking a smile.

Back on Main Street, he thought of April. I should call her, he thought, and find out where she's going to be at eleven-thirty.

He began to search for a pay phone, then changed his mind.

I'd better wait till I have the proof in my hands, till I have the snapshots showing April and no Gabri.

She probably wouldn't talk to me on the phone anyway.

Too nervous to hang around town for the next hour and a half, Matt headed to the beach. The fog was still low, forming a heavy gray cloud that hovered over the ocean, darkening the sand and keeping sunbathers away.

He walked along the dunes for a while, trying to will time to move faster.

He was back at the developing store at eleven-twenty. The young man greeted him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Huh?” Matt didn't grasp his meaning. “Sorry? Am I too early? You don't have my prints?”

“Yes to both questions,” the store manager replied, scratching his heavily slicked spiky red hair. “The machine is down.”

“What do you mean?” Matt asked shrilly, his heart pounding.

“It's just a gear. I called the other store at Newton's Cove for a replacement.”

“But when will you have it?” Matt demanded.

The young man shrugged. “I'm open till seven tonight. Come back around then, just to be safe.” He picked up a local newspaper from the folding chair behind the counter. “I'll have them for you at seven. No problem.”

•   •   •   •   •

Somehow Matt managed to pass the time. The sun never did come out. The afternoon sky brightened to a white glare, but the air continued to carry a damp chill.

He dozed off in the afternoon, sleeping fitfully, images of Jessica floating in his mind.

Those kisses. Those soft, wet kisses.

He awoke, frightened.

He had to resist Jessica, even in his dreams.

Evening was only a little darker than the day had been. He pulled on a clean T-shirt, brushed his hair, checked his wallet, and headed out of the house.

What a wasted day, he thought glumly.

Well, it wouldn't be a waste if the pictures came out the way he was sure they would. It wouldn't be a waste if April finally believed him, if he could convince her never to see Gabri again.

“Hey—there you are,” the manager of the film-developing store said, grinning as Matt rushed into the store at a few minutes before seven.

Matt didn't bother with any polite greeting. “Have you got 'em?”

The young man nodded and plopped a fat envelope of photos onto the counter. “That's some camera,” he said, whistling. “What kind is it?”

“I don't know,” Matt said, closing his hand over the envelope of pictures. “It's my dad's. The pictures came out?”

“Yeah. They're good and clear. Considering the lighting. Some are a little out of focus.”

Enough chitchat, Matt thought impatiently. “How much?” he asked, reaching for his wallet with a trembling hand.

A few seconds later he bolted through the door and around the corner to the back of the store. Leaning against the painted shingle wall, he pulled the stack of glossy photos from the envelope.

I've got to be right, he thought, offering up a silent prayer, his stomach knotted, his entire body tensed in anticipation.

I've
got
to be right.

Focusing in the dim light, he flipped slowly through the snapshots.

They were all pretty grainy, some more out of focus than others.

But, yes.

Yes, yes, yes!

Matt was right.

There was April in photo after photo, smiling at an invisible companion, holding hands with an invisible companion, arm in arm with an invisible companion.

Seated in the Ferris wheel car beside an invisible
vampire.

The thrill of it, the
horror
of it, struck Matt all at once.

Nearly dropping the photographs, he fell back against the building wall, gasping for breath.

It took nearly a minute to recover. Even though it was only a little past seven, the heavy clouds overhead made it as dark as midnight. Gabri, he knew, would once again be on the prowl.

April, I'm coming, he thought, carefully slipping the envelope of snapshots into his back pocket.

I'm coming to save you from him.

Please be there, April.

You'll
have
to believe me this time. So please be there.

He tried calling her house from the pay phone on the corner. No answer.

He searched the town for her, starting at the movie theater at the south end, studying the faces of the people lining up for the first show, then crossing Dune Lane to Swanny's. She wasn't in the ice-cream parlor or the arcade next door.

Please be there, April. Please.

He made his way to the end of the street, crossed over, and hurried along the other side, poking his head into restaurants and clothing shops, his eyes surveying each couple, each person, each group of people who passed.

April—please. Where are you?

He searched the town for nearly an hour without success. He checked his watch. Nearly eight-fifteen. He decided to try the beach.

Jogging along Seabreeze Road, the ocean wind in his face,
he could feel his tension tighten his muscles, feel his fear knot his stomach. Tears of cold perspiration ran down his cheeks. His legs felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds.

But he had to find her. He had to show her the danger she was in.

The beach shimmered silvery blue in the darkening twilight. Low waves caught the last moments of sunlight, red streaks on the rolling, dark green surface.

April—please be there. Please.

The beach was dotted with people, enjoying the last moments of evening light. As Matt made his way across the dunes toward the water, the sun dropped away, the air immediately grew colder, the sky darkened as if someone had turned off a light.

Twice he thought he saw her.

The girls were blond and thin and carried themselves like April.

But they weren't April.

They turned to stare at him, startled by his intensity, by the desperation of his gaze, the heaviness of his breathing as he continued his frantic search.

Before Matt realized it, he was nearly to the rowboat dock at the edge of the beach where the tall rock cliff jutted into the water. Three rowboats bobbed there, bumping against the dock.

April—where are you? Where?

There were very few people here. He knew he should turn back.

He was breathing so loudly, thinking so hard, his sneakers crunching over the pebbly sand, he didn't hear the voice until it called for the third time.
“Matt! Hey—Matt! Stop!”

“Jessica!”

He stopped and crouched over, resting his hands on his knees, gasping, struggling to catch his breath.

“Matt—were you looking for me?”

Her hair floated behind her, carried by the wind, as she ran to him, her eyes aglow, her pale skin almost ghostly in the early moonlight, her lips curled in a warm, inviting smile.

“Were you looking for me? Here I am.”

She spoke so softly, so tenderly, her voice nearly a whisper on the wind.

“I missed you yesterday, honey.”

Her eyes found his. He stared at her mouth. He remembered the kisses. The wonderful kisses.

Her eyes seemed to draw him near, to pull him to her.

“I missed you so much, Matt. Where were you, honey?”

She moved closer until she was almost touching him. Her eyes stayed on his, holding him as if in a spell, holding him prisoner as she moved even closer.

And he hungered for one kiss.

Just one.

He stood up, still breathing hard.

Just one kiss, he thought.

And then over her shoulder he saw something.

His eyes broke the spell—and he saw someone.