Silent Night 2 (14 page)

“It's very flowery,” the woman said. She sniffed again. “I like it.” She lowered her wrist, smiling at Reva. “What's it called?”

It's called Eau de Skunk, Reva thought.

“It's called Black Rose,” she said. Gazing beyond the woman, she saw Pam making her way through the crowded aisle.

“Well, could you tell me the price?” the woman asked, sniffing her wrist again.

“Not right now,” Reva said, her eyes on Pam. She pointed to Francine, who was handling three other customers at the far end of the counter. “She'll help you. I've got to run.”

“But—but—miss?”

As the woman sputtered her protest, Reva hurried away to meet Pam. “Hey, Pam—you're back at work?”

Pam nodded, smiling at Reva. She wore a short black dress over dark green tights. Her blond hair was tied behind her head in a ponytail.

“I can't believe you came back so soon,” Reva exclaimed. “Why didn't you take a few more days to rest and get your head together?”

“I couldn't,” Pam replied, lowering her gaze. “I really need the money.”

“Don't they have kidnapping pay or something?” Reva demanded. That was a thoughtless thing to say, she thought. Pam has been through a really terrifying time, and here I am making dumb jokes about it.

“Talk to Uncle Robert about that,” Pam replied dryly. She cleared her throat. “I wondered if you'd like to come over tonight. To my house.”

“Huh?” The invitation took Reva by surprise.

“We're trimming the tree tonight. I thought maybe you'd like to come help.”

“Well . . . is Victor coming?” Reva asked.

Pam shook her head, the ponytail wagging behind her. “He can't make it. He has to go somewhere with his parents.”

“Well, yeah,” Reva said. “I'll come. It'll be fun.”

I feel guilty, I guess, Reva realized. That's why I'm agreeing to go over to Pam's and be bored out of my mind.

“We'll have popcorn and egg nog and a fire and everything,” Pam gushed, squeezing Reva's hand. “It'll be like an old-fashioned Christmas.”

“Great!” Reva replied, trying to imitate her cousin's enthusiasm. “Great, Pam!”

• • •

A little after seven-thirty that evening, Reva pulled her car onto Fear Street and headed toward Pam's house. The rain had finally stopped that afternoon, but the road was still wet and slick. The old trees that bent over the street on both sides glistened in the pale streetlights.

As she drove past the burned-out Simon Fear mansion, which overlooked the Fear Street Cemetery,
Reva shook her head scornfully. How can Pam live on such a creepy, rundown street? she wondered. Surely, Uncle Bill could find a better house, even on his pitiful salary.

Pam's rambling old house came into view. To Reva's surprise, the porch light wasn't on. Probably broken, she thought, like everything else in Pam's house.

She pulled the Miata up the gravel driveway, stopping at the cracked and rutted flagstone walk that led to the front stoop.

She grabbed the shopping bag on the passenger seat. It contained the presents she had bought for Pam and her parents. As Reva climbed out of the car, Pam appeared on the front porch.

“Right on time! Hi!” Pam called cheerily, waving as Reva started to make her way along the front walk. “Hey—you weren't supposed to bring presents tonight!”

“Just a few things to put under your tree,” Reva called.

She slipped, turning her ankle on a crack in the walk. “Ow.”

“Be careful. The flagstones are all loose,” Pam said, stepping down.

Out of the corner of her eye Reva saw something move from around the side of the house.

A darting shadow.

She heard a scraping sound. Hard breathing.

Before she could turn to see what it was, a gloved hand clamped hard over her mouth.

The shopping bag dropped from Reva's hand.

Something heavy was pulled over her head. Something wool and scratchy.

A blanket?

“Hey—I can't see!” she cried, her voice muffled under the weight of the blanket.

An arm swept around her waist, grabbed her tightly.

“Stop!” she heard Pam shriek. “Hey—help! Help!”

With a choked gasp Pam's cries were cut off.

Reva thrashed her elbows back hard.

“Ow!” Her attacker cried out as an elbow made contact. “My mouth!”

Reva felt his arm slip away.

This is my chance, she thought, gripped with panic.

She tried to squirm out from under the blanket.

But her attacker recovered quickly. He wrapped his arm tightly over the blanket, around her throat, tightening, tightening.

Choking off her air.

Then a hard shove from behind sent her sprawling forward.

“You'll pay,” he whispered coldly. “You'll pay.”

Another hard shove. She realized she was being pushed down the driveway.

This isn't happening, Reva thought, overcome with terror.

This isn't happening.

“Help! Pam—help!” she cried.

Reva struggled and pulled up a corner of the heavy blanket.

She got a quick glimpse of Pam. Pam had been taken too.

But before the blanket was jammed back over her head, Reva got a quick glimpse of the car they were being dragged toward.

A beat-up old Plymouth.

B
efore Reva saw her attackers, the wool blanket was pulled back over her head, blinding her, choking her.

She cried out as someone again shoved her hard from behind.

“What do you want? Leave us alone!” she heard Pam scream, her voice shrill.

“Shut up!” a girl snapped in a loud, raspy whisper. “Just shut up—both of you.”

Reva stumbled, but a strong arm grabbed her around the waist and kept her moving.

She heard a car door open. “Put them both in back,” she heard the girl order.

How many were there? Reva wondered.

“What are you going to do to us?” Pam cried.

“I
told
you to
shut up!”
the girl cried furiously.

Reva heard a hard
thud.
Pam cried out in pain.

“Get them in the car. I'll drive,” the girl said.

“I'll drive. I've got the keys.” A man's voice. No. A teenager's voice.

“Just
move!”
the girl shouted angrily.

“Get in there!” Another man's voice. The man holding Reva. He shoved her. She stumbled forward, thrusting her arms out to break her fall.

She landed on a car seat. She fell into the car, tangled in the blanket. Her knee bumped the car floor.

She could hear Pam struggling behind her. Another
thud,
the sound of a fist landing a hard blow.

“Move!”

“Let us go! You can't get away with this!” Reva heard Pam cry.

And then Pam was shoved in next to her. Reva could feel her trembling body.

Reva heard Pam sob. “Not again! Please—not again! Let me go!”

Then there was a flurry of movement.

Someone opened the car door next to Reva. Someone pulled the blanket off her head. Reva got a glimpse of a pudgy-faced, dark-eyed man in a denim jacket.

A glimpse. Then everything was dark again as a scarf was tied around her eyes.

She wanted to resist, to fight, to make it tough for them. But there was no room to struggle. And her
fear made her muscles weak. She could barely raise her arms.

Reva's hands were pulled roughly behind her back. Then they were tied with some kind of cord. “Ow—no!” She cried out as the cord cut into her wrists.

Her cry was ignored.

The car door slammed shut.

She could still feel Pam's trembling body beside her.

“Reva—are you okay?” Pam whispered.

“Shut up! Shut
up!”
the girl rasped from the driver's seat. “Hurry up, Pres!”

“Hey—no names!” the boy shouted angrily.

Pres? One of them was named Pres?

Reva figured there were three of them. The woman, the pudgy-faced man who had pushed her into the car, and the teenage boy. The one named Pres.

She heard a front door slam.

The car engine roared. The car shot forward, throwing Reva back against the seat.

“Sit back and enjoy the ride,” the man said. Reva could tell he was sitting next to Pam.

“You
can't
do this!” Pam cried in a weak, trembling voice.

Reva remained silent. Staring into the blackness behind the blindfold. She realized she was too frightened to speak.

She coughed. Started to choke. Her throat felt tight and dry.

“Stop coughing, Reva!” the girl snapped from the front seat.

She knows my name, Reva thought. A cold chill ran down her back.

They know my name. They've planned this. They've been sitting somewhere, planning this, talking about me.

Reva had read about kidnappings. She had seen movies about them on TV.

But the movies never showed the real fear, she thought, feeling her whole body convulse in a shudder.

The movies never showed the darkness. Never showed the panic that choked you, that made you gasp, that made your temples throb.

The movies never showed the horror of being helpless, of being at the mercy of someone who wanted to harm you.

To hurt you. To kill you, maybe.

Someone who knew your name . . .

This is what Pam went through, Reva realized. This is the fear Pam felt.

And now it is happening all over again to her.

Why? Because of me?

If they wanted to kidnap me, why did they take Pam again?

The answer came to Reva at once.
They think they can get more money if they have both of us.

They're probably right, Reva realized.

Daddy will gladly pay them whatever they want.

And then what?

The question flashed uninvited into her mind.

And then what?

Reva didn't want to think about that question.

What will they do to Pam and me once Daddy has paid them? Will they return us to our homes? Will they simply dump us out on my driveway the way they did the first time?

Reva had seen the movies. She'd seen the news stories on TV about kidnappings.

Sometimes they let you go home. Sometimes they took the money and let you go.

But sometimes they didn't. Sometimes they . . . killed you.

Killed you and hid your body where the police wouldn't find it until it was rotted.

Took the money and killed you anyway. And dropped your body in a river or in some filthy trash dump. And then when they showed you on TV, you were zipped into one of those long plastic body bags. Wrapped up like garbage. And—and—

Stop!
Reva ordered herself. Stop thinking such horrible things!

You'll be okay. Daddy will pay. They'll let you go.

Think positive.

They already let Pam go once—right?

The car squealed as it made a hard turn around a corner. Then it shot forward with a roar.

Reva realized she'd been holding her breath. She let it out slowly, trying to stop her body from trembling, trying to keep the frightening thoughts, the ugly pictures, from invading her mind.

“Merry Christmas to us!” the boy in the front
seat exclaimed suddenly. He let out a high-pitched, gleeful cheer.

“Whoa. Don't start celebrating now,” the girl replied from the driver's seat. “We don't have the money yet, remember?”

The boy let out another cheer. “Merry Christmas, one and all!”

The car turned another corner. Reva felt Pam thrown against her.

“Hey, you're being awful quiet,” the boy called back to the man squeezed on the other side of Pam.

“I got hit in the mouth,” the man muttered glumly.

“Who hit you?” the boy asked.

“The redhead. You know. Reva,” the man rasped angrily. “She got me with her elbow when I was taking her to the car.”

Reva heard the boy snicker.

“It isn't funny, Pres,” the man snapped furiously, forgetting about not using names. “She split my lip. It's bleeding like crazy.”

Good,
Reva thought.

“It brought my headache back,” the man grumbled. “Real bad.”

“You'll be okay,” the girl said without any sympathy. “You won't have your headaches when you're rich. I'll make you a bet.”

“I just want to kill her,” the man fumed, ignoring the girl's words.

“Hey, come on, man. Sit back and relax,” Pres said. “We're almost there.”

“I want to kill her. I really do,” the man insisted calmly. His words were slightly slurred. Reva guessed it was because of the split lip she had given him.

“Well . . . maybe you'll get your chance,” the boy replied casually.