The Conclusion (4 page)

What a shame that you and your friends talked to the police, Mary. You got Hope in a lot of trouble. And now Hope is angry at me.

Hope blames me. She doesn't want me hanging around. She doesn't want to see poor Darryl anymore.

Hope and I were so close, Mary. So close.

And now she doesn't want to see me. Because she's in trouble. Thanks to you.

So I have to fix things. I have to win Hope back.

And I know just how to do it. I have to show Hope how much I care about her.

She would never pay you and your roommates back for what you did to her. But I will do it for her. And then Hope will know how much I care. She will know how much she needs me.

I'm watching you now, Mary. I'm sitting up here in the dark press room. Staring down at you through the long glass window.

Where is Melanie this afternoon? Why isn't she at practice today?

I can't believe she's going to miss your last swim . . .

• • •

The coach squatted on the edge of the pool, her stopwatch raised in front of her face. She was timing the girls' laps, one by one.

Her whistle rang through the building, echoing off the tiled walls. The first swimmer dove into the pool with barely a splash.

Mary was fourth in line. I figured I had plenty of time.

I slid off my seat in the press box, backed away from the window, and made my way to the narrow stairway in back. I hurried down the curving stairs,
leaning my weight on the railing to keep my steps as silent as possible.

A doorway opened into the pool area. I hesitated. Heard the coach's whistle followed by another splash. Girls shouted encouragement to the new swimmer.

I followed the stairs down. I knew exactly where they led. I'd checked it all out carefully. I'd been running the plan through my head endlessly.

The doorway at the bottom of the steps led into the training room. I stopped at the closed door. I suddenly had a bad feeling.

Had someone locked the door?

That would ruin everything.

I turned the knob. The door opened easily. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, I slipped inside.

I glanced up and down the rows of lockers. I crept along the wall to the long shower room and peered in. No one around.

I checked out the coach's little office across from the locker room. Sometimes people wait in there to see the coach after practice.

But today it was empty.

“Perfect,” I murmured to myself.

The word made me think of Melanie. Where was she this afternoon? Why had she skipped practice?

Sometimes Melanie joined Mary in the Jacuzzi after practice. If she had shown up today, I could have killed two birds . . .

The Jacuzzi bubbled and hissed on the other side of the shower room. Steam wisped up from the bubbling water.

They keep that baby really hot.

I guessed that was good for the swimmers' muscles after coming from the cold pool.

It won't be good for
your
muscles today, Mary, I thought.

I moved quickly to the supply cabinet. One more important hurdle to cross. One more lap before I could head for the finish of the race.

Had someone locked the cabinet?

No. I pulled open the door and peered inside.

My eyes swept from the top shelf to the bottom. Ace bandages and other medical supplies on top. One shelf of gray towels. Books and papers and equipment manuals on the next shelf.

And on the bottom of the cabinet, my precious supplies. The things I needed to pay Mary back. To win Hope back.

The white plastic, gallon-sized bottles of chlorine. I knelt down and counted six of them. Six gallons of chlorine.

That should be more than enough, I thought.

A few days before, I'd hidden back by the lockers and watched the coach add chlorine to the Jacuzzi. She'd poured about two cups into the dispenser on the side. The chlorine would be fed into the circulating water a little at a time.

Six gallons would do the trick, I knew. I hoisted the first one off the floor. Heavier than I thought. But I dragged it over to the bubbling Jacuzzi, pulled off the cap—and poured the clear liquid into the steaming water.

I carefully replaced the empty gallon bottle on the floor of the cabinet and lifted out another one.

It took longer than I thought to pour all six gallons of chlorine into the Jacuzzi. I was just emptying the last bottle when I heard the door swing open and heard girls' voices from the hall.

I swung around quickly. Tossed the empty bottle into the cabinet. Shut the door.

Behind me, bare feet slapped against the concrete floor. I heard a girl complain about how cold the pool was. A girl sneezed. Two girls called out, “Bless you.”

I backed away from the Jacuzzi. Found the hiding place I'd picked out days ago—an empty cubby way in the back where no one ever went.

In front of me, the Jacuzzi steamed and gurgled.

Holding my breath, I slipped into my dark hiding place.

And waited.

T
he girls changed quickly into their street clothes. Most of them seemed in a hurry to leave.

I heard someone call to Mary, “Are you coming to dinner?”

Mary moved into view. I saw her pull off her swim cap. Her red hair bounced out. She had her back to me. She adjusted her swimsuit. Then she raised one leg and rubbed her knee.

“Mary—you're always the last one dressed,” one of her teammates said.

“I just want to go in the whirlpool for a few minutes,” Mary replied. “My leg muscles are all cramped.”

Voices trailed off down the hall. The training room door slammed shut.

A few seconds later, the room stood silent.

I peeked out from my dark corner and, between the row of metal lockers, I could see Mary. She dropped a white towel beside the Jacuzzi. Then, resting a hand on the chrome ladder, she stepped into the steaming water.

I poked my head out farther. I wanted to see what happened next.

I watched her lower herself into the swirling, hot pool.

I could see her face and her pale shoulders above the water.

It took a few seconds before she started to scream.

Her mouth opened in shock. Her hands shot up.

Her shrill cry echoed off the walls and metal lockers.

“Ohhhhh! Help me! Somebody—
help!”

She thrashed the water. She raised herself up, but appeared to fall.

She screamed again. “It burns! Oh, help! It
burrrrrrns!”

Her face flamed bright red now.

The water splashed and churned.

She pulled at her hair with both hands. “Help me! Somebody! I'm burning! I'm burning!”

Screaming, she lurched across the whirlpool, sending a wave of water crashing over the side. She splashed and thrashed some more. Then I saw one hand grab the railing, and she pulled herself out.

Her eyes were wild. She held her head with both hands. And staggered over the floor.

Her skin—her arms, her legs—were red as fire.

Squinting through the lockers, I saw the skin on her arms start to peel.

“Help me! Help me!”

She dropped to her knees, still wailing and crying.

And someone appeared. A woman bent over Mary. The swim team coach. She tried to wrap a towel around Mary's shoulders.

“I'm burning! Make it stop burning!” Mary wailed.

The towel fell off. Blisters had formed on her shoulders.

The coach grabbed for the towel. “I don't know what to do!” she screamed.

“Help me! Help me!” Mary wailed, her cries growing weaker.

And then the coach turned, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. She turned—and stared right at me.

I'm caught, I realized.

I'm trapped back here. Nowhere to escape.

What do I do now?

I
jumped up when I heard someone pounding on the front door.

Had I been napping? Did I fall asleep on the living room couch? I blinked several times, my heart thudding. I didn't remember falling asleep.

The pounding continued. I froze in the middle of the room, staring toward the door.

Who could it be? No one lived here in this old sorority house. No one knew I'd been hiding here for over a week.

I moved unsteadily to the door. “Who is it?” I called out.

“It's me,” a familiar voice replied.

I didn't want to see Darryl. I didn't want to see him ever again.

But he was pounding on the door so urgently, and
his voice sounded so excited. I couldn't help myself. I pulled open the front door.

He burst in, breathing hard. Hurried past me, into the living room, his hair wild, his hands balled into tight fists.

“Close the door! Hurry!” he ordered.

I obediently shut the door. I suddenly felt dizzy. Why was he here? Why was he so pumped up?

“I did it for you, Hope,” he choked out breathlessly. He began pacing back and forth in front of me, fists swinging at his sides. His leather bomber jacket was open. The red T-shirt he wore underneath was torn at the collar.

“Did what?” I demanded. I had a sudden cold feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“I burned her,” Darryl said. He stopped pacing. I'd never seen his eyes so wild, so crazy. “I burned her. I burned Mary.”

The words didn't make any sense to me. “Mary?” I asked. “From Fear Hall?”

He nodded. “She's dead. I did it for you, Hope. I knew you wanted me to.”

“You
what?”
I cried. The cold feeling shot through my whole body. I grabbed the front of Darryl's jacket. “Did you really kill again? Are you telling the truth? You really killed Mary?”

He nodded. He took a deep breath. “I watched her skin burn from the chlorine while she sat in the Jacuzzi. She kicked and screamed for a while. Then it was over.”

“No!” I cried. “No—you
didn't!”

He nodded again. “I almost didn't get away. I
almost got caught. The swim team coach. What's-her-name. She was in the training room. She saw me.”

“She recognized you?” I cried.

Darryl shrugged. “I don't know. She saw me. She started to scream. I didn't know what to do. I was trapped, back against the wall. I had to get out of there.”

“So what did you do?” I whispered. I shut my eyes. I really didn't want to hear the answer.

“I ran,” Darryl replied. “I lowered my shoulder and barreled right into her.”

“You knocked her over?” I cried, my eyes still shut.

“I shoved her into the Jacuzzi,” he replied breathlessly.

I gasped. And opened my eyes. “You killed her
too?”

He scowled at me. “How should I know? I didn't hang around. You know? I ran out of there while she was still splashing and crying.”

“And you ran all the way here?” I asked him. My eyes went over his shoulder to the front door. “Did anyone see you? Did anyone follow you?”

“No. Why would anyone follow me?” he replied. He sank into the leather armchair.

“No!” I shouted. “Get up!” I tugged him up by the jacket sleeves. “Get up, Darryl. You can't stay here!”

He narrowed his pale blue eyes at me. “What's your problem, Hope? You and I—”

“You killed again!” I shrieked. “That's my problem!
You can't stop killing, Darryl! You're sick. You're horribly sick. And—and—”

My words caught in my throat. I choked.

He stepped forward and put a hand tenderly on my shoulder.

His touch used to thrill me. But now it made my stomach churn.

“Those three girls said you were crazy, Hope,” he said softly. “They forced you to run from the dorm. I burned Mary for you. And now it's payback time for the other two. I'm doing it for you. I'm doing it to show you how much I care.”

“No!” I protested. “No! No! No! I don't want you to, Darryl. I just want you to go away. Go away and don't come back!”

He pulled his hand away. “You don't mean that.”

“Yes, I do!”
I shrieked.

I grabbed his hand with both of mine. And pulled him and shoved him out of the room.

And out the front door.

He stumbled off the porch. Caught his balance. Turned angrily toward me. “Hope—you and I have to stay together. We don't really have a choice. We—”

“No! You frighten me!” I told him, my voice trembling. “You frighten me too much, Darryl. You've got to stop killing. You've got to stop. But I don't think you can.”

“You don't want me to stop!” he insisted. “Not until Margie and Melanie—”

“Good-bye.” I cried. I couldn't listen to any more of this. I was shaking all over. I felt so dizzy, I grabbed the side of the house.

“Good-bye, Darryl,” I said. “I really mean it this time. Good-bye.”

He opened his mouth to reply. But I slammed the front door shut.

I pressed my back against the door and crossed my arms tightly around myself. Holding my breath, trying to force my heart to slow down, I shut my eyes and listened.

I didn't move until I heard his footsteps thud down the driveway.

Then I took a deep breath and made my way shakily into the living room.

The sun was setting. A rosy red glow washed in from the two bay windows at the front. Long blue shadows stretched across the dusty floor.

A shadow moved toward me. I jumped back. It was just the cat.

I felt so shaky, I had to sit down. I started toward the armchair, but stopped.

Something caught my eye. A sheet of paper on the couch cushion.

I picked it up. It had writing on it.

A note?

How did it get here? I wondered. Did someone come into the house while I was napping?

I raised it close to my face to read it. The light was so dim, it was hard to read.