“Shut up! Look at the barn!” As Charles broke in excitedly, his grip loosened around Jinx’s neck, and Steve straightened with a look of alarm.
“What’s wrong?”
“The damn thing’s on fire!”
Jinx moved so quickly that Ryan scarcely realized what happened. Twisting out of Charles’s grasp, Jinx shoved him backward into the snow and slammed the door, flooring the gas pedal as he thrust the key in one last time. With a hoarse groan the engine sputtered, tried to die, then turned over at last—and the truck lurched into action, fishtailing through the snow as Jinx tried desperately to find the road.
Something ricocheted against the roof. As the truck shook violently, Jinx glanced in the rearview mirror and reached out for Ryan.
“Get down! They’re shooting at us!”
As another bullet struck, he swerved, flinging Ryan hard into her door. She tried to sit back up again, but the truck spun wildly, and she hit the dashboard before she could catch herself.
“Get down!” Jinx yelled again. “Get down on the—”
His words were drowned out by the crash of breaking glass. Ryan screamed as she saw the back window come apart—as she felt sharp slivers spray across the side of her head and her shoulders. Jinx was shouting to her, trying to steer the truck, trying to push her down onto the seat.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know—I think I might have gotten hit—”
The truck slowed down … slid the last few feet to a stop. As Jinx grabbed her, she shook uncontrollably and pulled her hand away from her head, staring down in amazement at the fresh smear of blood.
“You’re okay, Ryan, you hear me? It’ s just the glass—you’re not shot—you’re just cut—”
Ryan shrieked in terror. As Jinx swung around, Charles’s gun exploded through the window in a hail of flying glass. Jinx slammed back against the seat, and as Ryan screamed again, Charles thrust his gun against Jinx’s face and tightened on the trigger.
“Merry Christmas, Ryan,” he snarled.
The gun exploded, a deafening roar that went on and on, spattering the seat, the dash, the windows with blood. As Ryan stared in paralyzed horror, Charles’s body twisted crazily, then went limp, hanging half inside the truck like a disfigured doll. She saw his head lift slowly as he stared at her with wild, glazed eyes, and then suddenly his whole body jerked, falling away as the door burst open.
“Get out of here!” Winchester shouted, hanging on to the door. “Steve’s right behind me! Go!”
To Ryan’s dismay, the truck roared back into action. She could see Jinx sagging over the steering wheel, blood gushing down his face, and Winchester against the side of the truck, yelling directions as he tried to dodge bullets and balance on the running board.
It seemed they drove through the snow forever.
From some remote corner of her mind, Ryan realized they were slowing down at last … stopping in an unfamiliar place where everything was quiet and hidden. She saw Winchester’s haggard face beside her … she heard the pain in Jinx’s voice as he kept his head turned away.
“I’ll take you,” Jinx whispered. “Wherever you say … wherever you want to go …”
The silence went on and on.
“To town, then,” Winchester said softly. “To the police.”
Ryan closed her eyes and cried.
Chapter 23
He’s turning state’s witness,” Jinx said. “He’ll testify against Steve and Mr. Partini … the police promised it’d go easier on him, and he wants to do it.”
Ryan looked up from the bench in the hallway, trying to ignore the uniformed officers hurrying by.
“Then … Charles is …”
“He was already dead when the police got there,” Jinx said, his voice lowering. “Winchester saw the whole thing—Steve trying to shoot him and us. He’s going to tell them all about the toyshop and the deliveries, too. All the evidence probably burned up when he set fire to the barn, but he’s pretty sure where all the other drugs are hidden. He knows about some of the things they did to scare you. And with you and me to tell how Winchester saved our lives …”
Ryan’s voice shook. “But it wasn’t his fault. They threatened his family.… Did you say how they threatened to hurt his family and how he was just trying to protect the people he loves?”
Jinx stared at her as she bent her head and tried to regain her composure. “I guess they’re finally through talking to me—how about you?” At her nod he added, “I told my mom she didn’t have to hang around. The snow’s stopped now, and I kinda feel like walking home. How’s your mom?”
“Still in there talking to the police.” Ryan sighed. As she pressed a soggy tissue to her lashes, she felt Jinx awkwardly touch her shoulder. “Oh, God, Jinx, my poor mom … first Marissa and now Steve. I can’t imagine how she must feel.”
“Pretty lucky,” Jinx said. “’Cause she’s got you.”
Ryan looked up at him, her eyes brimming. “Some luck. Everyone thinks I’m crazy. Everyone thinks I tried to kill myself. I’ll never be able to show my face at school again. I don’t even have a best friend anymore—the last time I tried to call Phoebe, she wouldn’t even talk to me.”
Jinx shook his head. “Not true. She was really upset about you going to the hospital—she was crying so hard, Mom wouldn’t let her talk on the phone when you called. Hey, I was there. I know. Phoebe felt like she’d let you down.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “Really?” She sniffled. “You’re not just saying that?”
“I’m not just saying that.”
“Well …” She cast him an accusing look. “You thought I was crazy.”
“I’ve always thought you’re crazy. I know you’re crazy.”
In spite of everything Ryan had to smile. “Well, that certainly makes me feel better.”
“Don’t mention it.” Jinx glanced down at her, cleared his throat, looked away. “So … you hungry or something?”
“Not really.”
He nodded, started to say more, turned toward the door instead. “Well … see you around.”
Ryan watched him go out the front door of the police station and head down the sidewalk. She took a final wipe at her eyes, then hurried after him, pulling on her jacket as she burst through the door.
“Jinx!”
He turned then, and for just the briefest moment Ryan thought he actually seemed glad to see her. She paused beside him, searching for words.
“Will you … tell Phoebe I said hi?”
“Like I don’t have better things to do than deliver your messages.” He scowled and hunched his shoulders. “Oh, and don’t worry about your stupid dance—she’s gonna get to go.”
“You’re kidding—how did she manage that?”
Jinx gave an exasperated sigh. “I told Dad to let her, okay?”
“Did you really?” Ryan stepped toward him, but he backed away. “Jinx, that was so sweet of you—”
“Self-defense,” he said quickly. “That’s all. She was crying so loud, I couldn’t get any sleep.” He moved away, but Ryan caught his sleeve.
“Jinx—wait.”
Again he looked at her. This time she put one hand cautiously to his cheek, feeling it harden beneath her touch.
“You’re going to have a scar here, aren’t you?” she said quietly. “Where that bullet grazed you.”
“Big deal.”
“I think it’s kind of sexy.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. He lowered his head, and she could swear he blushed a little.
“Oh, Jinx—” She shook her head and sighed. “That’s not really what I came out here to say.”
He was staring at her, getting that suspicious expression on his face, and she hurried before she lost her nerve.
“I just wanted to thank you. If you hadn’t called and followed me this morning—”
“Hey”—he shrugged—“it was better than going to school—”
“No, it’s for more than
that. It’s for everything. For always being there every time I was scared and confused and needed someone.”
Jinx looked away quickly, staring at the sidewalk as if he suddenly found it intensely fascinating.
“And I just want you to know that I didn’t believe a word of what Phoebe said that night,” Ryan rushed on. “I mean, I know she was upset and it wasn’t true, all those things she said—” She broke off and took a deep breath. “Was it?”
Jinx’s head came up, startled.
“Right, McCauley. You should be so lucky.”
He glanced away, but then his eyes came back again … reluctant but curious.
“So …” Ryan said casually, “are you going to the New Year’s dance?”
“Well, yeah.” Jinx shrugged. “Yeah, as soon as I decide which girl deserves the honor.”
“How about me?”
He looked so taken aback that she almost laughed but managed to catch herself in time.
“Yeah, sure,” he said gruffly. “How about you what?”
“I’m serious. How about me? Going with you to the dance?”
This time there was no mistaking it. As he ducked his head, a blush worked its way slowly up over his cheekbones, and Ryan wondered why she’d never realized before how irresistible it made him look.
“Well,” he said, taking his time, as if considering hundreds of possibilities, “there’ll be a lot of really disappointed girls …”
“But one really happy one.”
Jinx gave a loud sigh. “Look, McCauley—”
“So?”
“So what?”
“So are you going to ask me?”
He started to grin, his head nodding slyly. “Yeah, okay. But only on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You gotta promise to wear a bag over your head.”
As she took a swing at him, he caught her hand in one of his own, and they started walking.
A Biography of Richie Tankersley Cusick
Born on April Fool’s Day 1952, Richie Tankersley Cusick was destined at a young age to write scary books. In a career spanning three decades, she has paved the way for young-adult horror writing, a genre she continues to publish in today.
Although born in New Orleans—home to some of the country’s most ancient ghosts—Cusick spent her early years in a small bayou town called Barataria, which once provided a safe haven for the fearsome pirate Jean Lafitte. A true Southern writer, she took early inspiration from the landscape of crumbling mansions, Spanish moss, and aboveground cemeteries, and began writing stories at a young age. For years a ghost lurked in her family’s house, making particular trouble around the holidays, when he would strip the Christmas tree of its ornaments and hurl them to the floor.
After graduating from the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, Cusick took a job at Hallmark and moved to Kansas City, where she once again shared her home with a mischievous spirit. It was then that she started work on her first novel, Evil on the Bayou (1984), based on her childhood memories of life in the eerie Louisiana swamps. Its success allowed her to leave Hallmark and begin writing fulltime.
When Cusick’s novel-writing career began, horror fiction for teens was a new genre. Along with authors like Christopher Pike and R. L. Stine, Cusick pioneered the form, finding success writing chilling stories with only a dash of the gore that defines adult thrillers.
Since Evil on the Bayou, Cusick has written more than two dozen novels about everything from vampires to pirate ghosts. In 2003 she began The Unseen, a four-volume series about a young girl who is tormented by the occult. Cusick currently lives with her three dogs in Missouri, where she enjoys listening to classic horror-movie soundtracks as she writes on an antique roll-top desk once owned by a funeral director. The desk is, of course, haunted.
Richie Tankersley Cusick at age three in front of her grandparents’ house in Rolla, Missouri. From left to right: Richie’s father, Dick; her mother, Lou; Grandma Tankersley; and Aunt Deanie. Richie’s grandmother was the biggest inspiration in her life, and the first one to really encourage her passion for writing.
Richie in her senior year at Riverdale High School in Louisiana in 1970. Richie was editor in chief of the school newspaper, the Scotichronicon, and was also voted most creative of her senior class.
Richie’s official press card as editor in chief of the Scotichronicon. Her responsibilities included writing editorials, thinking up topics, conducting interviews, and assigning stories to the staff.
Richie started playing guitar at an early age, inspired by her uncles and their love of country music. She has always loved singing, and has written several hundred songs.
Richie in her cubicle at Hallmark Greeting Cards, Inc., where she worked as a writer from 1975 to 1984. In addition to writing every type of greeting card imaginable, Richie wrote poems and prose for posters, puzzle backs, calendars, plaques, key chains, buttons, coloring books, mugs, and more.
Richie with her maid of honor and lifelong friend, Lise, at her wedding in 1980.
Richie’s haunted roll-top desk, located in her home office in Missouri. The desk belonged to a funeral director in the 1800s, and has been the source of some spooky occurrences, including eerie footsteps, muffled voices, and ghostly singing.
According to Richie, sometimes the quirkiest little thing can help an author break through writer’s block. In this case, she is using a quill pen and ink.
A sketch of Beverly Island and the summer house from Richie’s horror novel The Lifeguard. Richie loves to have visuals for her book settings, and made these sketches so she wouldn’t get “lost.”
Richie chatting with fans at a book signing in Rolla, Missouri, in 2004.
Richie with her three dogs at her home in Missouri in 2011. From left to right: Halle Berry, Emma, and Audrey. Richie’s dogs are her constant companions, and often get put out when she spends long hours writing rather than playing with them.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1992 by Richie Tankersley Cusick
This 2011 edition distributed by Open Road Integrated Media
180 Varick Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Biography
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Biography
Copyright Page
Fatal Secrets Page 16