Fear Street 5 - The Fire Game (11 page)

Not even thinking, Jill ran up the walk, then stumbled, sprawling on the front porch. She heard steps coming up the walk behind her.

Nearly frozen in terror, she opened her mouth to scream.

"Hey, Jill!"

"No!" she cried.

"Jill! Hey, Jill! It's me!"

She looked up and nearly melted with relief. It was Gabe, his expression a mixture of confusion and amusement. "Who did you think I was?" he said.

"One of the undead?"

"Gabe!" she said. "I--I didn't recognize your car."

"It's the rental my dad just got," he said. He held out a hand and pulled her to her feet, then led her to the car.

"Come on, get in," he said.

"Okay," she said in a small voice. "Thanks." She climbed into the front seat beside him. He was looking at her almost tenderly, the way he had on their date. It had been only Saturday, but so much had happened, it seemed like years ago.

Gabe didn't start the car again. He kept looking at her, his handsome face very serious but also very kind.

"I'm sorry for what I said before," he said. "I didn't mean to come down so hard on you." She didn't know what to answer. "Jill?"

"You didn't even listen to my idea," she said. "You just said it was pathetic."

"Bad choice of words," Gabe said. "But your idea seems a little unlikely, don't you think?"

"No," said Jill. "I don't think so. I mean, I can't believe any one of us could have done such a terrible thing." Any one of us, but you, she thought.

"You mean you don't want to believe it," said Gabe. "You don't want to face the fact that one of your very best friends might be an arsonist or worse. Isn't that right?"

"Of course I don't want to believe it!" said Jill.

"So it's easier to think that it's some mysterious stranger," Gabe said.

"I can get behind that. No one wants to believe something bad about someone they care about." He said it so seriously that Jill had a sudden eerie feeling that he knew more than he was telling.

"Who do you think it was?" she whispered.

"I don't want to make an accusation," he said. "Not now."

Jill couldn't think what to say.

After a moment Gabe sighed and started the car up again. "I'd better get you home," he said.

He drove in silence for a moment, then said, almost to himself, "It would be better if I'd never come here."

"Don't say that," said Jill.

"Why?" He almost smiled. "Are you glad I'm here?"

"You know I am," she said. "But--but I'm not glad about some of the things that have happened."

"Neither am I," Gabe said, again serious. "I should have known better."

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind," he said. "But, Jill, I think the best thing for you to do is forget all about that fire on Fear Street. I have a feeling the fires are over. If you keep investigating, you might find out that you're really playing with fire, in more ways than one."

Is that a warning? she wondered. Or a threat? She looked over at him as he drove, his clear green eyes fixed on the road. There was a strange expression on his face--almost sad. What's he trying to tell me? she wondered. That he set the fire himself and he's not going to do it anymore?

Gabe pulled the car into Jill's driveway and cut the engine. "I'll walk you to the door," he said. "I can manage to be a true gentleman about two or three times a year."

He came around and opened her door, then gently put his arm around her as he walked her to the porch. Once again Jill felt herself melting. If only she could trust him!

At her door he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "This has all gotten too heavy," he said. "What do you say we forget about fires and accusations and catch a movie Friday--tomorrow night?"

"I--I don't know," said Jill.

"You don't know if you're free, or you don't know if you want to go out with me?" There was no trace of his sarcastic smile, only a look of gentleness.

"I guess," said Jill, "I'm wondering if you really want to go out with me."

Gabe understood. "Because of Andrea?" She nodded. "I like her a lot, Jill. And I'm hoping she recovers from her accident soon. But the other night was--just one of those things. She was all over me--what could I do?"

"I just wanted to make sure," she said, "that there wasn't something more going on."

"Does this mean we're on for Friday night?"

"Sure," said Jill. "Why not?"

"Good," he said. He kissed her again, this time on the lips, then waited while she opened the door. "See you later," he said.

Jill shut the door and leaned against it, her heart pounding. Oh, Gabe, she thought, what am I going to do about you?

The real question, of course, was, what was she going to do about her feelings for him?

She went into the family room and found Mittsy curled up on the sofa, the TV playing softly in the background. She switched it off. Her parents were out playing bridge with some friends, and the house felt empty.

She sat petting the cat, staring at the TV without seeing it, and thinking about Andrea, Gabe, and the fires. But mostly she was thinking about Gabe.

Maybe he was right, that the best thing for her to do was just forget about the Fear Street fire. Even if he set it--or knew who did--he seemed to be telling her that there wouldn't be any more fires.

She stretched, then decided to work on her algebra homework. She was just heading up the stairs when the doorbell rang.

Maybe it's Gabe, she thought. She pulled open the door and was surprised to see two men in suits standing there. "I'm Detective Frazier," the taller one told her, holding out his ID. "This is my partner, Detective Monroe. Are you Jill Franks?"

"Yes," she said.

"Do you mind if we come in? We want to ask you some questions about a fire on Fear Street."

"Come on in," she said, hoping that her voice wasn't shaking.

Be casual, she told herself. You haven't done anything wrong.

"We're sorry to bother you at this hour," said Detective Frazier. "Can you tell us where you were last night, the twentieth?"

"Last night? I was out driving around," Jill said.

"Yes?" said Frazier. He seemed friendly and not at all suspicious. "Our records indicate that one of our officers saw you on Fear Street last night just before a fire killed a homeless man. He said you had some sort of car trouble."

"That's right," said Jill. "My car stalled out."

"Do you mind telling us what you were doing on Fear Street?" asked Detective Monroe.

Jill thought fast. "I--I had a fight with my boyfriend. I didn't want to be home if he called. So I thought I'd just drive around. I didn't realize I was on Fear Street until my car stalled."

Detective Frazier raised one eyebrow.

"While you were on Fear Street, did you see anything suspicious?"

"I didn't see anything at all," Jill said. "I was too busy trying to start my car." She was amazed at how easily the lies came to her. But what else could she do? She was almost certain that Max and Nick hadn't started the fire, and if she told about them they would be in terrible trouble.

But what if they did start the fire? Another part of her wanted to tell the policemen everything, to get it all out in the open.

"You didn't see any other people?" asked Monroe. "Did you see the fire?"

"No, really, Officer," she said. "I didn't see anything."

"Our records indicate that the fire was called in from a fire box at the corner of Old Mill Road and Fear Street around the time you were there,"

he said.

"It must have been someone else," said Jill. She looked at both detectives intently, but their faces seemed relaxed and free of suspicion.

"Well, I guess that's about it," said Frazier cheerfully, closing his notebook. "We won't take up any more of your time."

They don't suspect me, Jill thought with relief.

"If you think of anything that might help our investigation," Detective Monroe added, "please get in touch." He handed Jill a card with his number on it, and then both men lumbered out the door. They were about to start down the front steps when Detective Frazier suddenly turned. "By the way," he said, and this time his face was not friendly, "if we need you, we know where you are."

Jill peered through the living room curtain until the officers had driven away, then, feeling shaken, went to her room and got ready for bed. She felt sad, guilty, and on the verge of tears.

What I did was wrong, she told herself. Lying to the police is a crime.

But what else could I have done? she wondered. If she'd told about Max and Nick, they would have been prime suspects. And she was sure they hadn't set the fire. Even worse, the whole thing about the fire game would have come out, including the computer notes, and Andrea was already in enough trouble.

Thinking about Andrea made her feel even worse. Had her fall really been an accident? If not, what had happened, and who was responsible?

She punched in the hospital number and asked for patient information.

"Andrea Hubbard," she said. "She was admitted this morning. I just wondered how she was doing."

There was silence while the woman on the other end looked through her records. "There's no change," she reported at last.

Jill thanked her and hung up. No change. That meant that Andrea was still unconscious. She remembered how pale and broken Andrea had looked that morning. What if she never woke up?

Suddenly Jill realized that she couldn't go on lying. That none of them could. The police might not suspect her now, but they knew that she had been on Fear Street that night. Someone might have seen Nick's father's car as well.

There was only one answer. They--all of them--had to go to the police and tell what they knew. With a great feeling of relief, Jill punched in Diane's number.

Diane, sympathetic as ever, listened to Jill seriously. "You say the police didn't suspect you?" she asked.

"No," said Jill. "But it doesn't matter. I just realized this whole thing has gone too far. We have to tell what we know. I want you to help me convince the guys."

"That's not going to be easy," Diane said doubtfully. "I mean, Nick and Max were there when the fire started."

"But they said they didn't do it and I believe them," said Jill. "The one who's going to be hard to convince is Gabe. He told me I should just forget about the whole thing. That he doesn't think there'll be any more fires."

"When did he tell you that?" said Diane.

"After the meeting," said Jill. "He picked me up while I was walking home."

"That's a surprise," said Diane. "By the end of the meeting you two weren't even speaking."

"I know," said Jill. "No offense, since he's your friend, but Gabe is strange. First he was talking really seriously about the fire, and about five minutes later he completely cheered up and asked me out."

"Really?" said Diane. "You're not going, are you?"

"I said I would," said Jill. "But after the police came over, I don't know. I don't know if I want to go out with anyone until this whole thing is resolved."

"I think you're right," said Diane. "Gabe's always been terribly moody, and--"

"That's what I was thinking," Jill said.

"I have an idea," said Diane. "Why not just forget about Gabe and all the others? You and I can go to my parents' cabin this weekend. Just get away from everything."

"That sounds great," said Jill. "But what about the police?"

"I agree we should tell them what we know," said Diane. "But, Jill, you're too upset to think straight now. If we go to the cabin, we'll have time to figure out what to tell them. Besides, maybe by the time we get back, they'll have found the person responsible and we won't have to say anything."

Jill thought a moment. It would only be for a couple of days. And Diane was right--she was too upset to think straight. Gabe might be angry that she was breaking the date--but the way she felt now, she didn't see how she could just go out and act as if nothing had happened.

"You're on for the weekend," she told her friend. "In fact, it sounds like just what I need."

"This was the best idea, Diane!" Jill leaned against the cushions and stretched her legs out toward the fireplace. "It was great of your folks to let us have the cabin."

"My dad had to work this weekend, so they weren't going to use it anyway," said Diane.

"Some of his sculptures are pretty wild," said Jill, admiring the free-form metal sculptures that sat on nearly every fiat surface. A small metal mobile hanging from the center of the room swayed noisily with every breeze.

"That one's my favorite," said Diane, following the direction of Jill's gaze. "Dad said he'll give it to me when I have a place of my own someday." She stretched and yawned. "Want more pizza?"

"I'm stuffed," said Jill. Instead of cooking out, they'd microwaved frozen pizzas.

"Me too," said Diane.

"It's so nice here, so peaceful," said Jill.

"I told you we'd be able to relax this weekend," Diane agreed. "What did Gabe say when you broke your date with him for tonight?"

"He didn't get mad or anything," said Jill, still feeling strange about the conversation. "I told him my parents wanted me to stay in. He said he understood. You know, he can be nice sometimes."

"I know," said Diane.

"And at other times he's so wild. If it weren't for him, there would never have been any fires."

"He's always been that way," said Diane. "Always wanting to do something different, even if it's crazy."

"Somehow," Jill went on, "I can't help feeling that Gabe's the key to the whole thing--even if he didn't set the fire on Fear Street. We've got to talk to him, Diane. As soon as we get back home."

"We will," said Diane, "but for now, let's just forget everything and take it easy."

"But I thought we agreed we'd figure out what to do about the fires this weekend," Jill pressed.

"Don't worry," said Diane. "We will. But we don't have to talk about it every single minute." She yawned again. "I'm going to go take a shower now. You want the bathroom first?"