Twisted

OBSESSED

TWISTED

AFRAID

 

And writing as Joanne Fluke

 

Hannah Swensen Mysteries

CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE MURDER
STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE MURDER
BLUEBERRY MUFFIN MURDER
LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER
FUDGE CUPCAKE MURDER
SUGAR COOKIE MURDER
PEACH COBBLER MURDER
CHERRY CHEESECAKE MURDER
KEY LIME PIE MURDER
CANDY CANE MURDER
CARROT CAKE MURDER
CREAM PUFF MURDER
PLUM PUDDING MURDER
APPLE TURNOVER MURDER
DEVIL'S FOOD CAKE MURDER
GINGERBREAD COOKIE MURDER
CINNAMON ROLL MURDER
RED VELVET CUPCAKE MURDER
BLACKBERRY PIE MURDER
JOANNE FLUKE'S LAKE EDEN COOKBOOK

 

Suspense Novels

 

VIDEO KILL
WINTER CHILL
DEAD GIVEAWAY
THE OTHER CHILD

 

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

This one's for you, Heidi.

 

With a ton of thanks to John Scognamiglio, my editor

I
t was the first week of February at Hamilton High, and everybody was going stir-crazy. Winter had arrived in full force, and the streets of Clearwater were piled high with snow. Another winter storm had hit, and icy snow was blowing against the cafeteria windows so hard, the panes were rattling and bowing in slightly with each new gust of wind.

Amy Hunter pushed back her long brown hair and sighed as she surveyed the dishes of food that lined the steam table in the student lunchroom. There were lots of choices today, but there wasn't one single thing that she wanted for lunch.

“What's the matter, Amy?” Colleen Daniels, Amy's best friend since grade school, frowned slightly. “It doesn't look
that
awful.”

Amy sighed again. “I know. The mac and cheese actually looks edible, but I can't face the thought of eating it. I guess I'm really not hungry.”

Colleen slipped on the glasses perched on top of her head. She never wore them unless she absolutely had to because one of the guys had told her that she looked much better without them. And then she stared hard at Amy.

Amy began to get a very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. Colleen had decided that she wanted to be a biologist, and the way she was staring made Amy feel like a bug under a microscope. “What is it, Colleen? You're staring at me.”

“Sorry.” Colleen took off her glasses and shrugged. “It's not like you, that's all. You're always hungry at lunch. Are you sick?”

“No. I'm fine.”

“Are you depressed because Brett went out with Tanya again?”

“Shh!” Amy looked around, but no one was within hearing distance. She didn't want anyone else to know that she had a giant-sized crush on Brett Stevens, the star player on Hamilton High's basketball team. “I'm not depressed. I'm just . . . not hungry, that's all.”

Suddenly Colleen began to smile and her whole face lit up. “I got it. I know exactly what's wrong with you. You're in love . . . right?”

“I don't think so.” Amy shrugged. “At least, I'm not any more in love than I was last week.”

“Well, what is it, then?” Colleen plopped some mac and cheese on her plate and picked up a bowl of salad.

“I don't know. Maybe it's just winter.”

Colleen looked thoughtful. “Okay. I'll buy that. Winter's a real drag and we're all sick of it. Have some hot chicken soup and you'll feel better. That's what my grandma always says.”

Amy nodded and ladled some soup into her bowl even though she doubted it would help. The soup was a bilious shade of yellow, the noodles looked like fat white worms, and there was absolutely no trace of chicken visible.

“Come on.” Colleen picked up a buttered roll and tossed it on Amy's plate. She added a dish of butterscotch pudding and a generous helping of lasagne. “Let's go. Michele and Gail are saving a place for us.”

“But, Colleen . . . I can't eat all this!” Amy stared down at her tray in dismay.

“Don't worry about it. If you can't finish it, somebody will.”

Amy nodded. She knew exactly which “somebody” Colleen was referring to. Her mother called Colleen “the human disposal,” and she always made plenty of food whenever Colleen came over for dinner. Colleen had a huge appetite, and she never gained any weight. If Amy hadn't been best friends with Colleen, she might have hated her. Although Amy wasn't a bit overweight, she had to watch every calorie while Colleen could eat huge bowls of ice cream with all sorts of gooey and delicious toppings and never even stretch out the seams in her size five jeans.

The girls were waiting at their usual table, and Michele Porter, a pretty cheerleader who looked like a pixie with her short black hair, stared at Amy's tray as she plunked it down on the table. “Are you going to eat all that?”

Amy shook her head. “I don't think so. I'm going to give it to Mrs. Chambers so she can send it to the starving children in Europe.”

Michele cracked up, but Gail Baxter looked puzzled. Of course, looking puzzled was nothing new for Gail. She'd spent years perfecting her dumb blonde act. Gail had short, curly blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a perfect figure. She was also a straight A student, but she was convinced that her high test scores would scare the boys off. Gail went into her ditzy blonde act whenever a boy was around, and she'd sworn to kill anyone who even mentioned that she was going to Harvard when she graduated.

“Mrs. Chambers ships food to Europe?” Gail's eyes widened. “I didn't know that!”

Jessica Ford, a slightly overweight redhead, came up just in time to hear Amy's comment. She cracked up, too, and turned to explain it to Gail. “You couldn't know because you weren't here for second grade, but Mrs. Chambers used to lay a guilt trip on us if we didn't finish our lunch. She'd say,
‘Eat your lunch, girls. There are starving children in Europe.'
So we'd eat our lunch, even if we didn't like it. Except for Amy.”

“That's right.” Colleen started to laugh. “Amy absolutely hates broccoli. And one day we had this beef and broccoli casserole that was really gross. When Mrs. Chambers reminded us that there were starving children in Europe, Amy handed her the tray and asked her to send it to them.”

Gail laughed. “Smart move, Amy. Never give way to manufactured guilt. It's dehumanizing, and it turns you into a victim. It's a well-proven fact that actions which are motivated purely by guilt eventually increase the level of human suffering. Hegel said it best in the nineteenth century when he was discussing the issue in—”

“Careful, Gail. Your IQ is showing.” Amy grinned as she interrupted her. “And here comes the basketball team.”

Gail glanced toward the door and immediately put on her ditzy blonde look. The basketball team was trooping into the lunchroom, wearing eye-popping, bright green blazers. “Okay. I'll tell you later, if you're interested.”

All the girls watched as the basketball team filled their trays from the steam table. Kevin Thomas, the student coach, stood to the side, checking their names off on a clipboard. Amy felt a little sorry for Kevin. He'd been on the team last year, but he'd been in a car accident during the summer, and they were still doing orthoscopic surgery on his knee. At least Kevin had survived. His twin sister, Karen, who'd been driving the car, had been killed.

Brett was at the head of the line, and Amy sighed as she watched him fill his tray. He was tall with dark hair and sexy blue eyes, and he looked a little like a young Elvis Presley. Brett was a lifeguard at the lake in the summer, and even though this was the middle of the winter, he still had a great tan.

Neal Carpenter was right behind Brett, and he was at least three inches taller. Neal was skinny, with short sandy hair and incredibly long arms and legs. When he was off the court, he was a total klutz, always tripping over his own feet. But when someone passed him a basketball, he was as graceful as a white-tailed deer running over a snow-covered field.

Amy watched as the rest of the team filled their trays. They were all friends of hers. Clearwater wasn't a large town, and she knew everyone in her class. Most of them had been around since grade school. With the exception of Brett, who'd moved to Clearwater two years ago, and Tanya, who'd rolled in from California last year, Amy knew all of their parents and they knew hers. Perhaps that was why she was so fascinated by Brett. She'd never seen him fall off his tricycle, or get braces on his teeth. He'd come here as a handsome sophomore with a past in another town. That made him exciting and mysterious. And he even looked good in his awful bright green blazer.

There was a big game coming up tomorrow night, and Coach Harvey was really into psychology this year. For three days preceding an important game, the team wore bright green blazers to set them apart from the other students. They sat at a large table in the rear of the lunchroom, and they ate together. This was supposed to promote unity, but it didn't really work unless Coach Harvey was there.

“Here comes Miss Popularity.” Colleen nudged Amy. “And look at her sweater . . . it's the same color as the team blazers.”

Amy glanced toward the door of the lunchroom. Tanya Ellison was standing just inside the door, waiting to be noticed by the basketball team. And they would notice her; Amy was sure of that. Tanya's sweater was incredibly tight.

“I can't believe it!” Michele sighed. “She actually looks good in that awful kelly green!”

Gail nodded. “True, but it's too bad she's so poor. Maybe we should take up a collection.”

“What are you talking about?” Jessica stared at Gail in amazement. “Tanya's father owns a whole chain of movie theaters. He's the richest guy in town!”

“Maybe, but his daughter's wearing hand-me-downs.”

“Hand-me-downs?” Amy was puzzled. “I don't get it.”

Gail laughed. “Look at the size of her sweater. It used to belong to a much smaller girl.”

The other girls cracked up while Amy did her best to maintain her composure. Her parents had always told her that it wasn't nice to laugh at someone else's expense. But her friends' laughter was infectious, and Amy just couldn't keep a straight face. Gail's joke was funny, and what she'd said was perfectly true. Tanya's sweater really was too tight.

Colleen reached over Amy's dish of butterscotch pudding to shake Gail's hand. “Thanks, Gail. You managed to make Amy laugh. She's been acting like it's the end of the world all day.”

“What's the matter, Amy?” Michele looked concerned.

“Nothing that summer couldn't fix. I'm just sick of the cold and the gray skies, and winter. We don't even have a holiday until Easter, and that's almost three months away!”

“There's Presidents' Day,” Jessica spoke up. “We get a long weekend for that.”

Amy shook her head. “Presidents' Day doesn't count. It's just a made-up holiday, and nobody ever celebrates. What are they going to do? Have the band play ‘Yankee Doodle' and march down a snowbank?”

Michele cracked up. “At least you haven't lost your sense of humor. And you're forgetting about one of the best holidays of the year. Valentine's Day is coming up.”

“That doesn't count, either.” Amy sighed. “It's fine if you've got a boyfriend. Then you get flowers, or jewelry, or an incredibly romantic Valentine card. But I don't have a boyfriend, and Valentine's Day means nothing to me.”

Colleen reached out to help herself to Amy's buttered roll. “Cheer up, Amy. I personally guarantee that you'll get at least one card. I'll tell Danny to send you one.”

“Thanks a lot! If I get a card from your brother, my parents'll lock me in my room until I graduate.”

“Hey . . . Danny's not that bad.” Colleen began to frown. “His hair's growing out, and the dye'll be gone pretty soon. And he's getting good grades.”

Amy thought fast. Colleen was very sensitive about her bad-boy brother. “I'm sorry, Colleen. Danny's okay, and I like him a lot. But you know my parents . . . they think any guy who rides a motorcycle is depraved.”

Colleen didn't look convinced, but she nodded. And then she turned to Michele and started to talk about a new routine the cheerleaders were practicing. Amy looked down at her chicken soup, and winced. Her big mouth had almost gotten her in trouble with her best friend. Colleen didn't like to be reminded that her brother, Danny, was the worst nightmare of every Clearwater girl's mother. They assumed that Danny was a juvenile delinquent because he'd dropped out of school in his junior year to go on the road with his punk-rock band. The band had done all right for the first year, but then they'd lost their drummer and gone belly-up. And now Danny was back at Hamilton High, two years older than anyone else, finishing out his Senior year.

“Maybe we should do something special for Valentine's Day this year.” Jessica looked thoughtful. “I miss the parties we used to have when we were kids. Everybody got Valentine cards back then.”

Amy nodded. “Right. When I was in third grade, I got one that had a fir tree on the front. And the back said,
‘I pine for you.”'

“I bet you've still got it!” Colleen grinned. “I kept the one I got from Pete Brooks.”

“What did it say?” Michele looked interested. She'd gone out with Pete just last week.

“It was shaped like a lamp and it said,
‘To my Valentine. You light up my life.' ”

Jessica nodded. “Very nice. Remember those little heart candies with the words stamped on them?”

“Of course.” Gail smiled. “You could never read what they said because the printing was so smeared.”

“And the pink ones tasted like Pepto Bismol!” Michele made a face. “I never could stand those. I liked the yellow ones, though. I think they were supposed to be banana. Why are you smiling like that, Amy?”

Amy waited until all the girls were quiet, and then she dropped her bombshell. “We all liked Valentine's Day when we were kids in elementary school. Why don't we do it all over again?”

“Do what?” Colleen was puzzled. “Have a third grade party?”

“No. But we could have a dance.”

“That won't work.” Gail shook her head. “Valentine's Day is in the middle of the week. We can't have a dance on a school night.”

“Then we'll do it on Saturday night. That's even better because everyone can come. We could even make it a Sadie Hawkins dance.”

“What's that?” Gail looked interested.

“My grandmother told me about it. It's a dance where the girls ask the boys.”

“Great idea!” Gail nodded. “It's perfectly in synch with women's rights, and it's about time Hamilton High entered the twentieth century. We sit at home by the phone and wait for the boys to call us, and this is supposed to be the age of the woman.”