The Wrong Number Page 4

  “Chuck, what are you doing?” cried Deena. “You promised—”

  “I promised not to make any more prank phone calls,” said Chuck. “This is different—I’m about to change your lives forever. After this you’ll never be afraid again.”

  His finger had stopped at a number in the book, and he reached for the phone.

  “Who are you calling?” asked Jade. Her face was glowing with excitement the way it had the weekend before.

  “I don’t know,” said Chuck. “It’s just the first name I found listed on Fear Street.” He switched on the loudspeaker and punched in the number. The burring sound of the phone on Fear Street filled the room. “I’m going to prove to both of you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  The phone kept ringing. Deena counted fifteen before Chuck said, “No one home, I guess. I’ll have to find another—”

  On the sixteenth ring there was a click, followed immediately by a breathless gasp. Then the shrillest, most frightened-sounding voice Deena had ever heard cried out: “Please! Please come quickly! He’s going to kill me!”

  chapter

  7

  “Who is this?” demanded Chuck.

  “Please,” the woman begged. “Whoever you are, you’re my only hope! Any minute now he’ll—” But her voice was cut off by a man’s bellow of rage. While the three teens listened, horrified, the speaker phone amplified terror-stricken screams and then the sound of shattering glass.

  “Hello? Hello?” Chuck said into the phone.

  And then the woman was back. “Please come!” she begged again. “Please help me! You’re my only—” There was the sound of a slap, and then a new, gruff voice came on the line.

  “Who is this?” the voice growled.

  “What’s going on there?” countered Chuck.

  “It’s none of your business,” growled the man. “You’ve got the wrong number, do you understand?”

  “But I heard—” Chuck began.

  “The wrong number!” the man repeated, and he hung up the phone.

  Deena, Chuck, and Jade just looked at one another. Finally Jade broke the silence, her voice soft and scared sounding. “That was another trick call, Chuck, right?” she said.

  Deena had been thinking—or hoping—the same thing. But when she saw Chuck’s pale face she knew it hadn’t been a joke.

  “It was real,” he said. “Unless someone’s playing a trick on me.” He looked grim and angry.

  “Oh, no,” said Deena, her legs suddenly weak. “What are we going to do?”

  “We’ve got to call the police,” said Jade, reaching for the phone.

  “Wait,” said Chuck, grabbing her wrist. “How are we going to explain how I happened to make the call? And why should they believe us? They’ll think we’re just kids pulling phone pranks.”

  “Like that bomb threat,” whispered Jade.

  “Exactly,” said Chuck.

  “We ought to tell someone,” said Deena. “That woman sounded like she was in terrible trouble. She said he was—he was going to kill her!”

  “Maybe they were just playing a party game,” said Jade, but she didn’t sound as if she believed it.

  “That was no game,” said Deena. She stood up. “If neither of you will do it, then I’m going to call—”

  Chuck snatched the phone off the table. “Will you cool it?” he said. He reached for the phone book.

  “The police emergency number is nine-one-one,” Deena told him.

  “I’m not calling the police,” Chuck said. “I’m getting the address.” He shut the book with a snap and stood up.

  “You mean you’re going over there?” cried Deena, horrified.

  “I’ve got to,” said Chuck. “I’ve got to find out what’s going on.”

  “Let the authorities find out,” said Deena. “What if there’s really a maniac loose?”

  “Then I’ve got to stop him,” Chuck said. “You heard her. I’m her only hope.”

  “I’m going, too,” said Jade. She began to pull on her flannel jacket. “You can’t go over there alone, Chuck.”

  Deena took a deep breath. “I think you’re both crazy,” she said. “Maybe I am, too. I’ll drive. Chuck doesn’t know his way around Shadyside yet.” She got her mother’s extra car keys from the hook at the bottom of the kitchen bulletin board, then followed the others outside.

  It was a clear, chilly night with a large crescent moon. Deena slid in behind the wheel, Chuck in the bucket seat next to her, Jade in the back.

  “What’s the address?” Deena asked, taking the car around the long circular driveway.

  “Eight eighty-four Fear Street,” said Chuck. “The people’s name is Farberson.”

  “Eight eighty-four!” said Jade. “That must be out near the cemetery.”

  Deena shivered. She had never been to Fear Street at night and, like most people who lived in Shadyside, tried to avoid it during the day. She turned on Division Street, which divided Shadyside into north and south halves, then south on Mill Road, knowing Fear Street would be coming up soon. Although street lamps illuminated the road and the woods to the side, Deena kept seeing things move in the shadows.

  Chuck and Jade must have felt the same way she did, because nobody said a word until she turned onto Fear Street.

  At first glance it could have been any other street, with its old houses and empty yards. But on closer inspection there was something different about Fear Street.

  For one thing, there were the ruins of old Simon Fear’s mansion, which had burned down long ago—but was still rumored to be haunted.

  For another thing, the shadows on Fear Street were thicker and darker than those anywhere else in town. And most of all, there was a feeling of death, of lifelessness. The lawns were more brown than green, and the scraggly trees had only a few moth-eaten leaves on them. Though lights burned in a few of the windows of the houses on both sides of Fear Street, there was no feeling of warmth, of happy family life behind the curtains.

  “What was that address again?” Deena said. She hoped her voice didn’t sound as scared as she felt.

  “Eight eighty-four,” said Chuck.

  “Three fifty, four twenty-two,” read Jade from signs on the mailboxes. “Keep going.”

  Deena guided the Civic deeper and deeper down Fear Street. She usually loved to drive her mom’s little car, but that night she wished it was something bigger and more powerful—like maybe a tank!

  Looming dead ahead in the darkness was the black shape of Fear Street woods. There were only a few houses left now, and Deena began to hope that Chuck had been wrong about the address. That it wasn’t 884 Fear Street, or even Fear Street at all, but Hawthorne, or Mill Road, or Canyon Drive, or—

  “Up there, that’s it!” said Chuck.

  Just ahead of them was one more house, set apart from the neighboring houses, a two-story Victorian with battered shingles and a patchy lawn. Beyond it was nothing—but the cemetery.

  Deena’s headlights picked out “884” on a rusty mailbox. She parked in front of the house and cut the lights.

  The three teens looked at the house for a moment. It was in total darkness. In fact, it looked as if it had been completely deserted for years!

  “There’s no one home, Chuck,” said Deena. “You must have copied the wrong address.”

  “Maybe,” said Chuck uncertainly. “But I’ve got to check.”

  “I think Deena’s right, Chuck,” said Jade, sounding very nervous. “This must be the wrong place.”

  “I’m just going to look around,” said Chuck. “You girls wait here.” He opened the car door and started to get out.

  Deena remembered how fearlessly he had run to the burning car to rescue the dog. She knew he wasn’t about to be talked out of his plan. “There’s a flashlight in the glove compartment,” she said.

  “Thanks,” he replied. He took out the flashlight, then, in the light from the ceiling bulb, he flashed his goofy grin for a moment. He shut the door
and began the walk up the crumbling driveway.

  Deena and Jade sat silent in the darkness. Deena thought briefly of locking all the car doors but then decided Chuck might have to get back in in a hurry.

  Across the street she could just make out the dark, looming shapes of trees in the Fear Street woods. On the far side of the house was the outline of the stone wall around the cemetery. From behind it there was a faint, eerie glow from the moon.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m not staying here another second!” said Jade suddenly. “I’m going with Chuck.”

  “Wait for me,” said Deena. The two girls scrambled out of the car and started up the driveway after Chuck. As Deena felt the gravel crunch underfoot she imagined it was broken bones and felt a shiver go through her.

  They found Chuck standing on the porch, his ear to the door. “I rang the bell,” he said. “I can’t hear anything.” He knocked, tentatively at first, then louder.

  “The curtains are all drawn,” he said. “Let’s go see if there’s anything around back.”

  The girls followed him off the porch and around the side of the house. Something soft and sticky brushed against Deena’s face, and she stifled a scream. As she brushed it away she realized it was only a cobweb—then she began to wonder what sort of spider had made that huge web.

  The shutters were closed all along the side of the house. But when they got to the back door Chuck suddenly raised his hand. “Whoa!” he whispered.

  The glass in the top half of the back door was broken, and the door itself was hanging slightly ajar. With Jade and Deena crowded in behind him, Chuck shone the flashlight through the broken window, revealing an old-fashioned kitchen. In the center of the room a table lay on its side. All around, the floor was littered with broken dishes. Chuck swung the flashlight to the counter, where canisters and jars lay smashed, their contents of flour, sugar, and spices spilled over the counter and onto the floor.

  Chuck let out a low whistle. “The place has been ransacked,” he said. “I’m going in.” As he swung the door open the rest of the way, it creaked on its hinges like the cry of some creature long dead.

  Deena’s heart was pounding so loudly she was sure the others could hear it. Holding her breath, she followed Chuck and Jade into the kitchen. Chuck continued to inch forward, aiming the flashlight just ahead of him. Then he stopped so suddenly Deena and Jade nearly walked into him.

  Just beyond the door to the living room, illuminated by his circle of light, lay an outstretched arm. Next to its hand was a telephone receiver. Splattered over both were bright drops of red blood, running and collecting into a dark, spreading pool on the carpet.

  chapter

  8

  For a moment nobody moved. Then Chuck began to walk toward the scene of horror, shining the flashlight ahead of him. “Stay back!” he warned the girls. He bent down, then stood up again quickly.

  “It’s a woman,” he said in a shaky voice. “I think she’s been stabbed.”

  “Stabbed?” shrieked Jade.

  “Go back to the car!” he said. “She must have surprised whoever broke into the place. He might still be here!”

  Deena had never been so scared in her life. Her legs turned to overcooked spaghetti. “Come on,” she whispered. “Jade—Chuck—let’s get out of here!”

  “You two go on,” Chuck said. “I’ve got to find a phone.”

  “Let’s call from somewhere else,” said Jade.

  “There may not be time!” said Chuck. “This woman needs an ambulance!” He reached over to the wall and flicked on a switch. The sudden brightness was startling, and Deena had to blink several times before she could see. She stepped gingerly into the living room with Jade and suddenly felt faint. The woman was lying on her stomach. Beside her on the floor lay a big, blood-covered carving knife.

  “Oh, nooo,” said Jade, her voice a faint moan. Involuntarily she clutched Deena’s hand.

  Deena glanced around the living room to avoid staring at the woman. The room looked as if a storm had blown through it. Lamps and ashtrays lay broken on the floor. The couch was slit open, its stuffing spilling out. Pictures were pulled from the walls and lay smashed with the other debris.

  Chuck was bent over one of the few standing tables, dialing the phone. “Hello,” he said. “I want to report a—”

  Before he could finish he heard loud footsteps on the stairway to his left.

  “Someone else is here!” Jade cried.

  A large, heavy man dressed in a green overcoat and wearing a black ski mask appeared on the stairway. In his right hand he held a tire iron. “What are you doing here?” he growled in a deep, hollow voice.

  “You stabbed her!” said Chuck. “You broke in and stabbed her! You’ll never get away with it!”

  “Drop the phone,” the man said, chilling menace in his voice. He hurried down the last few stairs, the tire iron in front of him, and, as Jade and Deena watched in horror, began to advance on Chuck.

  “Chuck!” screamed Deena. “Look out!”

  Chuck jumped to the side just as the tire iron came swinging down, narrowly missing his head. His eyes darted wildly around the living room, then came to rest where the woman lay. He lunged forward, the masked man after him. Chuck quickly snatched up the carving knife and held it in front of him menacingly. “Back off, mister!” he said.

  The stranger stopped a moment, then nodded slowly. “You won’t use that knife,” he said. “Better put it down.”

  “Run, girls!” cried Chuck.

  Quickly Deena and Jade ran past the masked man and out the front door. Chuck kept the heavy, blood-spattered blade of the knife pointed at the intruder.

  “Put down the knife,” the man repeated in his deep voice. “You’ll never use it.” He reached out one gloved hand as if to take the knife from Chuck.

  Chuck bounded toward the front door. When he reached it he heaved the knife at the masked man. It hit the wall over the intruder’s head and bounced to the floor.

  Chuck burst out the door, and then all three of them were running—running for their lives.

  “Quick, get in!” shouted Chuck. He shoved the girls into the backseat of the car, then ran around and slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Deena, the keys!” he shouted.

  Deena frantically began to search through her jacket pockets. In the moonlight they could see the masked man stumbling down the driveway. He was heading straight for them when she remembered. “They’re still in the ignition!”

  Chuck flipped on the motor and floored the accelerator. With a squeal the car spun away from the curb. Chuck gunned it to the end of the street—a dead end.

  “Chuck!” cried Jade. “He’s getting into his car! Hurry!”

  Deena turned and saw the man get into an old-model sedan in the driveway of the house. Chuck slammed the Civic into reverse. “Hold on!” he shouted. He gunned the car backward along the way they had come. The stranger pulled out of the driveway and was coming after them.

  Chuck continued to floor the pedal, flying backward past the dark houses all along Fear Street and out onto the Mill Road. Too late, Deena saw the lights of a big truck bearing down on them from the south. “Look out!” she shouted.

  Chuck wrenched the steering wheel, and the Honda fishtailed onto the shoulder. The truck swerved past, just missing them, its horn blaring. The little car was still skidding.

  “Look out! We’re going into a ditch!” Deena screamed.

  But somehow Chuck managed to get control. Breathing a sigh of relief, he spun the car around and began speeding north on the Mill Road.

  “He’s still following us!” shrieked Jade. “Faster!”

  “Which way?” shouted Chuck.

  “Turn left!” cried Deena. With a protesting squeal the little car turned onto Canyon Drive. The masked man’s headlights were still behind them. “Turn right!” Deena screamed. “Now left!”

  The little car swerved so hard that Deena thought it might fall apart. They hi
t a deep hole in the road, and Deena’s head hit the roof. Before she could regain her balance Chuck had swerved again, and then again onto a narrow dirt road.

  “Have we lost him?” Jade cried, sounding weak.

  “I think so,” Chuck replied, staring hard into the rearview mirror.

  “Let’s go home,” Deena said, feeling exhausted. “We’ll be safe there.”

  Chuck turned the car up Park Drive and finally into the North Hills section of town where the Martinsons lived.

  All three teens breathed in deeply when the car finally pulled into the circular driveway and Chuck cut the motor. For a moment they just sat in the car catching their breath.

  Then they heard a squeal of brakes and the sound of a car roaring up the hill toward the house. Feeling a chill run down her back, Deena looked down the road and saw headlights approaching fast.

  “Oh, no!” cried Chuck. “It’s him!”

  chapter

  9

  “Get inside!” ordered Chuck. “We’ll be safe there.” The three teens scrambled out of the car and onto the porch. But before they could get inside the car roared straight toward them up the driveway, sending the gravel flying, its headlights glowing like the eyes of some evil animal.

  But instead of stopping, the stranger’s car went all the way around the driveway, then sped away, heading back down Pine Road toward town.

  “He’s gone,” said Jade, her voice trembling.

  “Let’s go in,” said Chuck. “We’re safe now.”

  Deena followed the others in. She wished her parents were home. Even more, she wished her hands would stop shaking.

  Chuck was already at the phone dialing 911. “Hello,” he said. “Send an ambulance to eight eighty-four Fear Street. A woman has been stabbed. My name? Just say I’m—the Phantom of Fear Street.” He hung up.

  “Chuck!” said Deena, dismayed. “Why’d you say that?”