All-Night Party Page 4

  Gretchen spun around and watched the knife tear through the soft wood.

  Once. Twice. Three times.

  She froze, unable to move a muscle as Marco savagely hacked away at the tree.

  Bits of damp bark hit her face. Marco was grunting and gasping for breath as he slashed at the tree.

  “W-w-what are you doing?” Gretchen stammered.

  “I’m angry,” Marco shot back through gritted teeth. “I’m really angry, Gretchen. I—I don’t understand. Why did you do this to me?”

  “I’m sorry,” Gretchen stammered. She bit down on her lower lip. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  Marco stepped back from the tree, breathing heavily. He wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Then he closed the knife and slid it back into his pocket.

  Without saying another word, Marco turned his back on Gretchen and walked toward the cabin.

  Gretchen hurried after him. She didn’t know what she was going to say when she caught up. But she could see that she had hurt his feelings.

  She hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but…

  “Marco—” she began.

  He cut her off. “Save it, Gretchen. You got your message across. Loud and clear.”

  They walked the rest of the way in silence. As they neared the cabin, it started raining again, cold, heavy drops.

  Gretchen opened the door of the cabin, expecting to hear laughter and voices.

  But she heard only silence.

  She stepped into the front room. The fire had burned low. Some of the candles had gone out. The birthday banner draped over the fireplace had fallen.

  A chill swept down Gretchen’s spine. The emptiness of the room spooked her.

  “Where is everyone?” she wondered.

  Marco shrugged. “Maybe they went out for a walk. Or maybe they went home. Some party.”

  Marco flopped down on the sofa, his arms crossed over his chest. He stared into the low flames of the dying fire.

  Gretchen listened to the rain beat steadily on the cabin roof. Within seconds, everyone would be rushing inside, ready to party.

  I’d better go get the cake set up, she thought.

  Gretchen pushed open the kitchen door.

  She stopped in alarm. What a mess! What had happened in here?

  The canister of flour on the counter had been tipped over, spilling flour everywhere.

  On the floor. On the counter.

  But what were those stains in the flour?

  Dark red stains.

  Gretchen’s eyes followed the dark trail.

  “No!” She uttered a sharp cry when she saw Cindy.

  On the floor.

  On her back in the flour.

  An angry red slash in her side.

  Blood leaked out, over her clothes, forming a dark puddle in the white flour.

  Cindy.

  In the flour.

  White and red. Dark, dark red.

  Cindy.

  A lifeless, blank stare on her face.

  Her mouth locked open in a scream of horror and pain.

  Chapter

  14

  Gretchen staggered against the wall. She clutched her stomach.

  I feel so sick, she thought. She fell to her knees and started to vomit.

  Her stomach heaved. Then, wiping a hand across her mouth, she tore her eyes away from Cindy’s body and ran out of the kitchen in a panic.

  How did this happen? Where is everyone?

  A few steps from the kitchen door, she stumbled into Marco. He caught her in his arms.

  “Gretchen—what?” Marco demanded.

  “It—it’s Cindy,” Gretchen choked out. “She’s been—someone has—”

  “Huh? What about Cindy?” Marco demanded.

  Gretchen tried to force the words out, but her tongue felt like rubber. Hot tears rolled down her face. She squeezed her eyes shut. But she kept seeing Cindy’s body.

  The blood leaking from the open wound.

  The red blood. The white flour.

  Cindy’s horrible, lifeless stare.

  Murdered! Gretchen’s mind shrieked. Cindy has been murdered! Someone I know has been murdered!

  She looked up to see Patrick race out of the downstairs bathroom. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

  “She’s in there!” Gretchen choked out. “Go and see!”

  She grabbed Patrick’s arm. And started to tug him into the kitchen.

  But she stopped when she saw the stain on Patrick’s T-shirt.

  “No!” Gretchen gasped “No!”

  The front of Patrick’s shirt was covered in blood.

  Chapter

  15

  Gretchen felt the room spinning. A blackness closed in on her. I’m going to faint, she thought. She reached out to one of the walls for support.

  Patrick killed Cindy! Gretchen’s mind screamed. He killed her!

  “How did you get that blood on your shirt?” Gretchen demanded.

  Patrick stared down at his shirt. “I cut my hand trying to open the bedroom window upstairs,” he answered.

  He held up his bandaged right palm.

  Was Patrick telling the truth? Gretchen couldn’t think about that now.

  “The kitchen,” she whispered.

  Marco dashed into the kitchen. But Patrick stayed by Gretchen’s side.

  Why isn’t he running with Marco into the kitchen? Gretchen wondered.

  Is it because he already knows what’s in there?

  “Gretchen? Maybe you should sit down or something. You look awful,” Patrick said softly.

  He reached out to touch her arm.

  She flinched and pulled away. Her gaze dropped again to the bloodstains on his shirt.

  Gretchen couldn’t answer. Tears filled her eyes and blurred her vision. She blinked them away.

  “The escaped prisoner,” Patrick whispered, his eyes widening with fear. “How did he get in? Why did he kill Cindy?”

  Gretchen heard a floorboard creak. She gasped in terror. She heard Patrick gasp, too, as he turned quickly toward the sound.

  Then she heard familiar voices. Gil’s and Hannah’s voices.

  They strolled into the cabin, arms around each other.

  “What’s going on?” Hannah asked. “You guys look awful.”

  “Where’s the birthday girl?” Gil inquired. He gazed around the front room. “Let’s get this party rolling!”

  “The party’s over,” Gretchen moaned.

  “Over?” Gil replied. “We haven’t even cut the cake.”

  “It’s Cindy—” Patrick began.

  “Cindy is dead!” Gretchen blurted out. “Somebody killed her.”

  Hannah’s arm fell away from Gil’s waist. She took a step toward Gretchen.

  “Huh? What did you say?” she asked slowly.

  “Dead,” Gretchen whispered. “Cindy is dead.”

  Hannah shook her head back and forth. “She can’t be!” she whispered. “What are you saying?”

  “It’s true,” Gretchen choked out.

  Hannah’s lower lip started to tremble and her eyes filled with tears. “Cindy can’t be dead. She can’t!” she sobbed.

  Gil gaped at Gretchen in shock. “Are you sure?”

  Gretchen nodded her head. “Her body’s in the kitchen.”

  “What are we going to do?” Hannah sobbed. “What are we going to do?”

  “We’ve got to get the police,” Gretchen said.

  “We can’t get the police,” Patrick cried.

  Gretchen spun around to face him. She felt her feelings well up inside, as if she might explode.

  Patrick always acted like such a know-it-all. Even at a time like this.

  “Why not?” she demanded. “Cindy’s been murdered! We have to do something!”

  Patrick didn’t answer.

  He stepped quickly toward Gretchen, an intense look on his face.

  What is he going to do? Gretchen wondered.

  Is it because I mention
ed the police?

  Her eyes fell to the front of Patrick’s shirt again.

  To the blood.

  Did he lie? Is that really Cindy’s blood and not his?

  Is he the killer?

  Before she could back away, Patrick grabbed her.

  His strong arms wrapped around her.

  “Patrick—stop! What are you doing?” she cried.

  Chapter

  16

  Patrick drew Gretchen close to him.

  He’s hugging me, Gretchen realized. Patrick is only hugging me. He’s not hurting me.

  “Calm down, Gretchen,” he whispered soothingly. “Calm down. We have to think clearly. We can’t call the police. There isn’t a phone in the cabin. There aren’t any phones on Fear Island.”

  “Then we’ll go home!” Gretchen cried. “We’ll row back to Shadyside and get the police.”

  “We can’t,” Patrick insisted.

  “Why not?” Gil asked.

  “Because of the storm,” Hannah said.

  “And because of the killer,” Patrick added. “He was in our kitchen. He might still be outside the cabin. We’re safer inside. At least we have the gun. And he can’t sneak up on us.”

  Gretchen pulled away from Patrick. She felt a little bit calmer.

  Yes, the killer, she thought. We have to protect ourselves from the killer.

  “But the gun isn’t loaded,” Hannah pointed out.

  “I brought bullets,” Patrick answered.

  “Huh? You did?” Gil asked.

  Patrick nodded his head. “I told you. My dad wanted to make sure we were safe.”

  He turned back to Gretchen. “Are you okay?”

  No, I’m not okay! Gretchen wanted to scream. One of my closest friends is dead in the kitchen. She’s been stabbed to death, and she’s lying in a pool of blood.

  But Gretchen didn’t scream. She hugged her arms around her body.

  She wanted to scream and cry. But she couldn’t.

  What would it accomplish? Cindy would still be dead.

  If only I had rushed back into the cabin when I overheard that argument, she thought miserably. Maybe I could have prevented Cindy’s murder.

  “What’s going on?” Jackson appeared in the doorway of the cabin with an armload of wood.

  “Cindy’s been murdered,” Gretchen murmured.

  She watched Jackson closely, waiting for his reaction.

  But he didn’t react at all. He didn’t even blink.

  He dropped the wood into the bin next to the fireplace. Then he took off his yellow rain slicker and hung it on the coatrack.

  What’s wrong with him? Gretchen wondered. Doesn’t he have any feelings?

  “Don’t you have anything to say?” Gretchen cried. “Didn’t you hear me? Cindy’s been murdered.”

  “This is a joke—right?” he asked.

  “A joke?” Gretchen gasped.

  Hannah shook her head sadly. “It’s no joke, Jackson.”

  “In—in the kitchen,” Gretchen murmured.

  Jackson stared hard at them. Then he strode across the living room and threw open the kitchen door.

  Everyone followed him. Except Gretchen. She stayed behind. She didn’t want to see Cindy’s lifeless body again.

  But being alone in the empty living room frightened her.

  She hurried into the kitchen—and saw Marco standing over Cindy’s body. His face was deathly white.

  Jackson and Patrick stood beside Marco, in shocked silence.

  Gil and Hannah stood on the other side of Cindy’s body. Hannah turned and buried her face in Gil’s chest.

  “Who could have done such a thing to Cindy?” Hannah sobbed. “Who?”

  “It’s really true,” Gil whispered numbly. “She’s really dead.”

  Hannah pulled her tear-stained face away from Gil’s shirt. “We have to get to the police. Our parents. Do something.”

  “Hannah’s right,” Gretchen said. “We need help. If we all stay together, we can make it down to the boat dock. The escaped prisoner isn’t going to attack all of us at once.”

  “It’s too big a risk,” Patrick insisted. “We only have to stay here until tomorrow afternoon. When we don’t come home in the morning, our parents will send the police to look for us.”

  “What are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Hannah demanded shrilly. “I can’t stay here now. I just can’t!”

  She began to sob again. Gil put his arms around her.

  “I think we should try to get out of here,” Gil said. “None of us wants to stay here with Cindy dead in the kitchen.”

  “If you want to risk your lives, go ahead,” Patrick said. “But I’m not setting foot outside this cabin.”

  “But, Patrick—” Gretchen started.

  “The escaped prisoner is a maniac!” Patrick cried. “He’s already killed once tonight!”

  Gretchen stared at Cindy’s lifeless body. At the puddles of blood in the flour.

  She imagined the way Cindy fought her killer. Struggled for her life.

  Patrick is right, she decided.

  The killer could be anywhere. We can’t take such a dangerous risk.

  “I don’t want to die,” Gretchen blurted out, trembling.

  “Then let’s all stay put,” Patrick urged.

  “Wait a minute,” Hannah spoke up. “What if the prisoner isn’t outside?”

  “Where else would he be?” Gil asked.

  “What if he’s inside?”

  Chapter

  17

  “What if we’re wrong?” Hannah demanded. “What if he’s still inside, watching us?”

  They all stared at her, thinking about her words.

  “Maybe he didn’t have a chance to get away after he murdered Cindy,” Hannah continued. Her eyes darted around nervously. “Maybe he heard one of us coming back to the cabin and decided to hide.”

  “If he’s inside the cabin,” Patrick murmured, “then nobody is safe.”

  Marco looked around the kitchen uneasily. “We’re sitting ducks.”

  “Patrick, where’s your gun?” Gil asked. “Go get it.”

  “No!” Jackson ordered. “Don’t take the gun out, Patrick.”

  “Why not?” Patrick demanded. “We need protection!”

  “We don’t know if the killer is inside,” Jackson insisted. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

  Hannah ignored Jackson’s words and clutched Gil’s arm. “Maybe he’s in one of the closets, watching through a crack. Listening to everything we say.”

  “There’s only one way to know for sure,” Patrick said. “Search the cabin.”

  “We won’t sleep tonight unless we know he’s not inside,” Marco said grimly.

  Hannah shuddered. “I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight. Not with Cindy dead in the kitchen!”

  “I’ll search with you, Hannah,” Gretchen volunteered.

  Hannah wiped away her tears and gave Gretchen a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

  The guys began climbing the stairs to the second floor. Gretchen and Hannah tackled the first floor.

  “Gretchen, I’m so scared,” Hannah whimpered.

  Gretchen reached for a knob on a closet door. She gazed over her shoulder at Hannah. “You’re not the only one,” she confessed.

  Gretchen’s sweaty palm slipped off the brass doorknob. She reached for it a second time and tightened her grip. Twisting the knob, she flung the door open.

  The closet was filled with old clothes. No one hiding inside.

  As Hannah hovered behind her, Gretchen opened the rest of the closets and peeked behind the drapes in the living room.

  Each time, she braced herself for an attack.

  Each time, they found no one.

  Finally, there was only one place left to search.

  The kitchen.

  “I can’t go back in there,” Hannah cried. “I can’t bear to see Cindy dead.”

  Gretchen paused with her hand on the kitchen door. �
��I’ll go in by myself. You stay out here.”

  “No!” Hannah cried. “Don’t leave me alone.”

  Gretchen sighed and took Hannah by the arm. She led her into the living room and sat her on the couch. “I won’t leave you alone, Hannah. We’ll ask one of the guys to search the kitchen.”

  Gretchen heard doors opening and closing upstairs. She kept waiting to hear a shout of discovery. But it never came.

  “No killer. No killer,” Hannah chanted. She pulled her knees up to her chest and started rocking back and forth.

  “No killer inside,” Gretchen repeated softly.

  Hannah shivered. “I’m so cold.”

  “The fire has almost gone out,” Gretchen said. “I’ll build it back up.”

  Gretchen reached into the wood bin and tossed logs into the fire. Soon the flames started to grow, crackling and popping, and warm rays of heat drifted out of the fireplace.

  Hannah climbed up from the couch and stood in front of the fire, holding out her hands.

  “Better?” Gretchen asked.

  “A little,” Hannah replied.

  Rain pounded the windowpane.

  Gretchen stared out at the storm. Were they safe? Or was the escaped prisoner hiding out in the woods? Watching the cabin and getting ready to make his next move?

  Would they get off the island alive?

  Gretchen went to check the locks on the windows. Pushing aside the half-open drapes, she checked each window. All were secure.

  But as the drapes fell back into place, Gretchen froze.

  Something on the porch!

  Something moving!

  “Someone is out there!” Gretchen gasped.

  Chapter

  18

  Gretchen raced over to the wood bin and pulled out a heavy log.

  “Who is it?” Hannah cried. “What did you see?”

  Gretchen didn’t answer. She ran to the door.

  “You can’t go out by yourself!” Hannah shrieked. “It’s too dangerous! Let one of the guys check.”

  Gretchen reached for the doorknob. “By the time they get down here, he could be gone.”

  “Don’t do this, Gretchen!” Hannah begged. “Please!”

  Gretchen pulled open the front door. Lightning flashed across the sky. Rain fell in heavy sheets.