Fear: 13 Stories of Suspense and Horror (11 page)

“You aren't going anywhere.” He grabbed my arm and jerked me toward the room.

“Help!” I yelled.

He yanked harder, shoved me inside the apartment, and slammed the door. He turned a dead-bolt lock.

The woman I had followed was sitting on a sofa, watching
Oprah
and eating a candy bar. Mrs. Pameron sat at a round dining table. She smiled when she saw me. “Hello, dear,” she said, as if I visited regularly.

The young woman muted the TV and looked at me. “Who's she?” she asked.

“Her mother owns one of the stores that buy antiques from Aunt Martha.”

One of the stores? Mrs. Pameron sells to other shops besides ours
?
Mom would be interested in that piece of news.

“I saw her in Starbucks,” the woman said, “and on the bus.”

“I knew it! She followed you! She suspects us, Britney.”

The woman turned off the TV. “How could she suspect anything?” she asked.

“Why else would she follow you here?”

“Suspects you of what?” I said.

“It was her,” Britney said, pointing at Mrs. Pameron. “She told!” She raised her hand as if to slap Mrs. Pameron.

The old woman cringed.

“No!” I cried. “She didn't tell me anything. I don't know what you're talking about.”

Britney lowered her hand.

“Regardless of how much she knows,” the man said, “this changes the plan. We need to rob the other bank and leave town today. Now.”

“What about the girl?”

“We'll take her along. As soon as we do the bank, we'll get rid of her.”

“Get rid of her now, Todd.” Britney's voice was like ice.

“There are too many people close by. Even the old duffers in this building would hear a gunshot.”

“Help!” I yelled. I tried again to reach the door. “Help me!”

Todd grabbed a dish towel and gagged me with it. I kicked at him. He held my hands behind my back while Britney cut the TV cord and used it to bind my hands.

“What are you doing to Maud?” Mrs. Pameron asked.

“It's a game, Aunt Martha. You're going to play, too.” The man tied her hands to the chair back with the lamp cord.

“I don't like this game,” Mrs. Pameron said.

Britney removed a wad of money from Mrs. Pameron's bag.

“That's my share,” Mrs. Pameron said. “You put that back!”

Britney stuffed the cash in her purse.

Todd put on a long black coat.

“Where are you going?” Mrs. Pameron asked.

“To your house,” he said.

“I want to go, too,” she said.

No, you don't,
I thought.
And neither do I.

Britney opened the door and peered into the hallway. “All clear,” she said.

“I'm right behind you with the gun,” Todd told me, “so don't try anything.”

Please,
I thought.
Please, somebody see me!
But the other apartment doors remained closed.

We walked to a parked white car. Todd opened the back door, and I got in.

“Lie down,” Britney said.

I did.

Todd got in the front passenger's seat, and she slid behind the wheel.

I lay on my side, facing the front seat. I twisted my hands back and forth, back and forth, trying to loosen the cord. The movement soon chafed my wrists, but I kept trying.

When the car stopped, Todd pulled a black ski mask over his face.

“Maybe I should keep the gun,” Britney said, “to control the girl.”

“I'm not going in there unarmed,” he said.

Britney looked over her shoulder at me.

I held still.

“You can always use your knife,” he said.

They both looked out the window. “Now,” she said.

He got out.

She twisted in her seat, watching me. I lay motionless. I knew if she caught me trying to get my hands untied, she'd make sure it didn't happen.

Five minutes later, the front door opened and Todd leaped in. “Got it!” he said.

Britney floored the accelerator, and the car shot forward. The tires squealed as she took a corner too fast. A horn honked.

I twisted my hands frantically.

“There were only two customers,” Todd said as he removed the mask, “and they both dropped to the floor as soon as I told them to. The teller was terrified. When I showed her the note, she handed over a bag of bills.”

Neither of them paid any attention to me. I squeezed my fingers together, making my hands as small as I could. The knot loosened slightly—just enough for me to free my hands.

I slid my right hand into my pocket and opened my phone. I couldn't call with a gag in my mouth, but I could send a text message. I found the
center
key with my index finger, then slid my finger to the left and pressed. I visualized the keyboard and typed
help.
Next I typed
bnk rbr
. Last, I typed
mrs pam nefw.

I pressed
center
again. I knew this brought up my list of phone numbers. Mom was first on the list, so I hit
center
again to send my message to her.

I looked out the window, hoping to recognize a landmark so that I could tell Mom where I was. I saw only a stoplight.

“Stay green, baby. Stay green,” Todd said. We roared through the intersection. I kept watching. When I spotted the tips of two golden arches, I sent
McD.

Next I saw the red-and-white logo of the Target store, and texted
trgt.

“Nobody behind us,” Todd said. “No lights, no sirens.”

“We did it!” Britney said.

A few minutes later Todd said, “Left at the next corner, where the sign says ‘Lake Elgin'. Aunt Martha's house is in about two miles.”

Panic rose in my throat. I remembered Todd's words:
We'll get rid of her after we rob the bank.

Soon Todd said, “It's the gravel driveway on the right. Park down by the dock.”

The car slowed. The bumpy road curved several times.

“Let's shoot her in the car and push it into the water,” Britney said. “We'll be rid of the girl and the getaway car at the same time.”

“Hey, this is a good car. We'll shoot her and dump the body off the dock.”

I couldn't believe how calmly they discussed my murder. Had they killed before?

The car stopped. “Let's get it over with,” Todd said.

They both got out. I slipped my hands back into the knotted cord. I needed more time. I had to stall.

Britney opened the back door. “Out,” she said.

“Mmmm,” I said as I got out. “Mmmm!”

“Ungag her,” Todd said. “No one can hear her yell now.”

Britney took the dish towel out of my mouth.

“When your aunt dies, you'll inherit this house,” I said.

“What?” said Todd.

“She put it in her will.”

“What about her daughter?”

“She said you visit her, and she wants you to have everything.”

Britney looked at the classic old house, the wide lawn, and the lake view. “This place is worth a fortune,” she said.

“When did my aunt discuss her affairs with you?” Todd asked.

“Sometimes she has tea with Mom and me. One day she asked Mom to recommend an attorney because she wanted to rewrite her will. Mom's brother is a lawyer, and he handled it.”

Todd hung on every word, believing my lies. “Where is this new will?” he asked.

“My uncle has the original. He was afraid your aunt would lose her copy, so Mom kept it at the shop. If you take me there, I'll show it to you.”

“She's trying to trick you into taking her home,” Britney said.

“Uncle Zach estimated the value of Mrs. Pameron's estate at eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” I said. “She's leaving it all to you.”

Todd's jaw dropped. “Forget Phoenix,” he said. “We should stay here and be nice to Aunt Martha.”

“She could live another twenty years,” Britney said.

“Unless we help her along,” Todd said. “She takes a dozen pills every day. It would be easy to overdose on the wrong combination.”

He said it as nonchalantly as if he were discussing what to have for dinner.

Britney looked at the house again. “It gets too hot in Phoenix,” she said.

“We need to get that will. Then we'll go to Auntie's apartment and help her take her medicine.”

An ancient Ford was parked next to the house. “We'll take Aunt Martha's car,” Todd said, “in case the cops are looking for mine. She leaves the keys in it.”

This time Todd drove.

After I lay down on the backseat, I peeked at my phone, hoping to see a message from Mom saying that help was on the way.

The phone was dark. My battery needed to recharge. My texts had never been sent.

Fear and despair washed over me. As soon as Todd and Britney realized there wasn't any will, I knew they'd shoot me.

Britney said, “Let's go! Let's go!” and the Ford shot forward.

Seconds later, Todd swore, and hit the brake.

I sat up.

Two squad cars, blue lights whirling, blocked our path.

“Police!” yelled a voice. “Get out with your hands in the air.”

Two officers approached.

“Stay down,” Todd told Britney.

She put her head on her knees.

He grabbed the gun and rolled down his window. He was going to shoot the police!

As he raised the gun, I attacked from behind. My hands circled his throat, jerking his head backward. The gun fired into the air.

Todd struggled. I held on. He pointed the gun over his shoulder at me.

Bang!
I heard the bullet whiz past my ear and shatter the back window.

Britney looked up, then dug her nails into my arm, trying to pull my hand away.

Bang!
This shot came from behind the Ford. One officer had sneaked around and approached from the rear. Todd yelped, and dropped his gun.

Police quickly surrounded us.

“It's your fault!” Britney cried. “We would have been rich!”

An officer read Todd and Britney their rights. They were frisked and handcuffed, and Todd's minor arm wound was treated.

An officer took my name and asked if I was okay.

“Yes. They were going to kill me! You saved my life!”

“And you saved ours,” he replied. “Is there an older hostage, too?”

“No. How did you know I was here?”

“We didn't. A police detective followed a tip from a burglary victim and went to question the owner of this property. He found her tied up in her apartment. She said her nephew had kidnapped her sister and was taking her to this address.”

“Mrs. Pameron gets confused,” I said. “She thought I was Maud.”

My picture was in the paper the next day, under the headline TEEN CATCHES ROBBER, PREVENTS COP SHOOTING. The article said that Todd and Britney had committed twenty burglaries plus the bank robberies. The trunk of his car contained an assault rifle, three lap-tops, and a bag of cocaine. They sold most of the stolen goods themselves to pawnshops or on eBay and Craigslist, but used Mrs. Pameron as a fence for antiques. They took advantage of her confusion by pretending the goods belonged to Maud. When the reporter contacted Mrs. Pameron's daughter, who lived in another state, she came immediately to help her mother.

That afternoon, Claire came to the shop. “Look,” she said, holding out her hand.

“The poison ring!”

“The police found it by the sink in Mrs. Pameron's apartment. Rosie got her computer back, too—all because you spotted my ring and followed that awful woman.”

“Which she should not have done,” Mom said.

I grinned. After six days of fear, the antiques business was fun again.

▼ ALANE FERGUSON ▼

 

 

 

 

 

M
onday morning, on the floor of my science classroom, I, Savannah Rose Anderson, woke up dead.

A bullet pierced my skull and my body crumpled beneath me, thudding hard on the school's linoleum floor. There was no pain—no feeling at all but a last quiet breath and then . . . nothing. Now, as I open transparent lids, I realize time and space have bent around me. There is a blankness as I try to comprehend the fact that my soul and body have lost their connection. I have been ripped apart, a cloth rent in two.