Twisted

by Jo Gibson

  Pete was thoughtful as he stared up into the darkness. The note from Kelly was very clever. He’d been about to suggest it when Jennifer and Tim had sent it to him, all by themselves. It was the perfect way to stop the panic that was beginning to build among his students. When they saw that he’d received one of Kelly’s notes and he was perfectly all right, they’d begin to relax and realize that the other deaths were entirely accidental.

  Had another student teacher ever been through anything like this? Pete doubted it. He was responsible for the drama class and four of his students had died. He’d done everything he could think of to protect them, but nothing had done any good. What would Miss Voelker say when she found out what had happened? Would she blame him for not doing his job? And how about the parents of the dead students? Would they accuse him of being negligent?

  There was no way he could sleep after everything that had happened. He was too worried about whether people would blame him. Pete felt like pacing the floor in frustration, but he didn’t want to wake any of his sleeping students. They were safe as long as they stayed together and this was the only time he didn’t have to worry about them.

  Pete stood up and walked quietly to the door. He needed a break and had a bottle of brandy stashed in the hearse. He wasn’t much of a drinker but he knew that a shot of brandy would help him to relax so that he could sleep.

  It was cold outside and he was shivering as he slid into the driver’s seat. He turned on the engine and started the heater and then switched on the sound system. The hearse hadn’t been used for its original purpose in quite a while and the previous owner had put in a great sound system. Pete had brought along some of his favorite music and he went through the disks, one by one. He didn’t feel like listening to jazz or rock and blues would only depress him. That left classical and he slipped a CD into the deck.

  As the strains of Segovia’s classical guitar filled the air, Pete began to feel much better. His girlfriend played classical guitar. She was a music major and she performed at a small club near the campus. Pete loved her and he’d decided to ask her to marry him when she graduated.

  Pete opened the bottle and took a sip of brandy. Too bad he hadn’t brought a glass, but the brandy was mellow and it was just what he needed. He took another sip and leaned back against the soft leather upholstery. It was good to be alone for a few minutes. He’d been on duty with his students since Friday afternoon and he was exhausted.

  The heater sent out waves of comforting heat and Pete glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was two in the morning, but he didn’t feel like moving a muscle just yet. He needed another few minutes of pure relaxation before he went back inside.

  Another sip of brandy and his eyes began to close. The music was great and a little nap wouldn’t hurt. He hadn’t slept soundly since they’d arrived at Saddlepeak Lodge, and it might be a while before he got a full night’s sleep. He’d doze until the music stopped playing. That would be his cue to wake up. Then he’d go back inside, check on his students, and be on call for the rest of the night.

  He’d been awake when Pete had gone outside. The others had been sacked out completely, and they hadn’t even wiggled as he’d slipped out of his sleeping bag and tiptoed to the window.

  He really didn’t want to kill Pete, but he had no choice. After Pete had gotten that note from Kelly, he’d promised them all that they’d have another séance tomorrow. There was no way he could let that happen. Kelly’s secret might be revealed at that séance and he had to protect himself.

  There was an army-type rain poncho on the rack by the door and he slipped it on. If someone woke up and glanced out the window, they wouldn’t be able to recognize him in the poncho. Then he let himself out the door and stood under the overhang, trying to think of the perfect way to accomplish what he had to do.

  While he waited, he thought about Kelly. If she’d only cooperated and done what he’d asked, everyone would still be alive. The killings weren’t his fault. They were Kelly’s. And she was still causing him trouble, even after her death!

  The dome light went on in the hearse and he moved a little closer so he could see. But when he realized what was happening, he began to frown. Pete was drinking! And Pete shouldn’t be drinking when he was responsible for the safety of his students.

  As he watched, Pete did something even more damning. He leaned back against the seat and shut his eyes. Pete was going to sleep out here and leave his students alone. Perhaps he’d be doing them all a favor by killing Pete. In times of war, sentries were executed for sleeping on duty.

  He waited another few minutes and then he moved around to the back of the hearse. He knew what to do and it wouldn’t be difficult at all. There were some rags in one of the garbage cans and he stuffed them into the tailpipe of the hearse. And then he stood there and watched, imagining how the fumes would back up and send Pete into a very permanent sleep.

  It was a good dream, a wonderful dream, all about the life he’d share with his girlfriend. Pete’s eyes flickered. He could almost touch her warm skin and smell her perfume. But that wasn’t perfume he was smelling. It was something else. Pete opened his eyes and reached out to open the window to get rid of the invasive smell, but he was so tired that he could barely lift his arm.

  He needed a little more sleep. Then he’d gather the energy to open the window. The darkness was closing in, much darker than the night outside. As Pete slipped into unconsciousness, he had one last, fleeting thought. The odor smelled a little like exhaust fumes. The note from Kelly. The other accidents. Was he about to become the sixth victim? But Pete was just too tired to hold onto that thought as he slipped into the permanent darkness.

  He saw Pete’s head roll back against the seat. His breathing slowed, growing more and more shallow, until finally it stopped. But he was patient and waited for another ten minutes, crouching on the far side of the hearse and peering in through the passenger’s window.

  He moved quickly then, pulling the rags from the exhaust pipe and stuffing them back into the garbage can. Then he dragged the can to the back of the hearse and jammed it up against the tailpipe. Everyone would assume that Pete had backed the hearse too close to the garbage can and when he’d started the engine, the exhaust fumes had killed him. It would be another accident, the sixth in a row. It would scare them all so much that Jennifer and Tim would refuse to hold another séance.

  Seventeen

  Jennifer gave a deep sigh of contentment. Someone was stroking her hair. When she’d been a small child, her mother had always come in to wake her that way, and Jennifer smiled and snuggled down a little deeper under the blankets. The touch was loving and gentle, and she felt warm and cherished.

  “Jen . . . time to get up.”

  Jennifer sighed again and then she began to frown. The words were the same, but it hadn’t sounded like her mother’s voice. “Mom?”

  “No, Jen.”

  There was a hint of laughter in the much deeper voice and Jennifer’s frown deepened. It must be her dad, but why was he waking her? He always left for work early, at least an hour before she got up. “Dad?”

  “No, Jen.”

  This time the voice actually laughed, a deep, rumbling sound, and her eyes flew open in shock. It was Tim! But what was Tim doing in her bedroom?

  “Your hair’s incredible, Jen.” He reached out to stroke it, again.

  “Sorry . . . I guess it’s an awful mess.” Jennifer began to blush. Her hair had always been horrible in the morning. “I’ll brush it and tie it back right away.”

  “No. Don’t do that.” Tim smiled down at her. “It’s so pretty this way. I think you should leave it loose. All those beautiful colors . . . it’s like a rainbow.”

  Jennifer smiled in pure happiness. If she’d had any doubts about Tim, they were firmly erased by what he’d said. He liked her hair when no one else did. He’d just compared it to a beautiful rainbow! Tim was wonderful and they were definitely made for each other.

  “Yo
u’d better get up, Jen. It’s eight o’clock and the sun’s out. It’s a little warmer, too. Maybe they’ll be able to get through to us today.”

  Suddenly it all came back: the haunted lodge, the séances, the notes, and all the horrible accidents. Jennifer’s eyes lost some of their sparkle and she reached up to hug Tim. “Is everybody okay?”

  “Everybody’s fine. They’re still sleeping, but Pete is up. I saw him outside in the hearse. He must be looking for something.”

  “Thank God!” Jennifer gave a huge sigh of relief. “I couldn’t help worrying about him after he got that note.”

  “Me, too. Let’s go up and change clothes, Jen. I don’t want to wake the others just yet.”

  They went up the stairs. Tim waited in her room while she took a quick shower, and then she waited in his room while he did the same. Fifteen minutes later they were sitting in the kitchen, side by side at the long table, sipping steaming cups of hot chocolate.

  “I’m so glad the sun’s out!” Jennifer smiled as she glanced out the window. “I bet Pete is, too. He’s been out there a long time.”

  “I know. I wonder if I should go out and help him.”

  “Let’s both go.” Jennifer pushed back her chair. “We can even take him a cup of hot chocolate.”

  As they stepped out the door, carrying a cup of hot chocolate for Pete, Tim began to frown. “I don’t like this, Jen. He’s still slumped over in the front seat. He was like that when I saw him early this morning.”

  “Maybe he fell asleep. He was really tired.” As Jennifer spoke the words, she felt her heart start to pound in fear. What if Pete wasn’t sleeping? What if he was dead?

  “Pete?” Tim tapped on the driver’s window, but Pete didn’t sit up. He didn’t even move.

  “Tap on the window again, Tim. He could be a really sound sleeper.”

  Tim knocked on the window and called his name, but Pete still didn’t move. He turned to look at Jennifer and the fear she was feeling was mirrored in his face. That was when Jennifer spotted it, the empty brandy bottle on the floor of the front seat.

  “I think I know what’s wrong.” Jennifer pointed to the empty bottle. “If Pete drank that whole bottle of brandy by himself, he’s probably passed out cold.”

  Tim looked very relieved. “I’ll open the door and check. Get ready to help me catch him, Jen.”

  “Okay. Let’s take him into the kitchen and sober him up before the rest of the guys find out.”

  “Good idea. I don’t want to see him fired, do you?”

  “No.” Jennifer shook her head. “I don’t like it, but I can’t really blame him. This whole weekend’s been a terrible strain and he was just fine up until last night.”

  “Okay . . . here we go.”

  Jennifer stood to the side as Tim opened the door. But Pete didn’t tumble out, groaning and holding his head, as both of them expected. He just fell into their arms as stiff as a board and Jennifer stared down at him in shock. “Tim . . . Pete’s not drunk! He’s . . .”

  “I know.” Tim didn’t give her time to finish her sentence. “Go get the guys, Jen. I’ll handle it until they get here.”

  Jennifer didn’t say a word. She just turned around and hurried back to the lodge. And as she ran, words thumped through her head like a chant, in time with her steps. Another note. Another death. Another note. Another death. When would it all stop?

  “Okay. We have to talk about this.” Tim stood up in front of the river rock fireplace. They were all gathered together, sitting on the couches or on the floor and Tim was in charge. “There’s only six of us left.”

  Everyone nodded. What Tim said was true. The only ones left were Tim and Jennifer, Tommy and Lexie, and Dale and Brian.

  “What should we do?” Lexie sounded nervous. “These can’t be accidents, can they? I mean . . . it’s statistically impossible for any group to be so incredibly unlucky.”

  “I agree,” Tim said.

  “But that means there’s a murderer on the loose, killing anyone who gets a note from Kelly!” Jennifer’s voice was shaking. “And since we’re the only ones here, the killer must be a member of our group!”

  There was a tense moment of silence as they all glanced around, turning away the moment they met anyone else’s eyes.

  “No.” Dale shook his head. “Look . . . we’ve known each other all our lives. We started first grade together and we’re going to graduate together.”

  “Right . . . if we manage to live that long,” Lexie said.

  Jennifer couldn’t help it. She giggled. Leave it to Lexie to see the humor in an impossible situation.

  “Okay. I deserved that.” Dale grinned at Lexie. “And I realize that what Jennifer said makes sense. But I just can’t believe that one of us is a killer!”

  Tommy jumped up. He looked very excited. “Hold it, guys! Maybe the killer isn’t one of us. There’s another alternative we haven’t even considered.”

  “What’s that?” Jennifer stared up at him hopefully. No one wanted to believe that the killer was right here in the room, perhaps even sitting next to them.

  “What if this whole thing has nothing to do with Kelly’s death? There could be another person here, hiding here at the lodge, someone who’s so afraid of being discovered that he’s killing us off, one by one.”

  “Good one, Tommy.” Lexie giggled. “Do you really think Michael Myers from Halloween is holed up in the basement?”

  Everyone cracked up except Dale.

  Dale sighed deeply. “Very funny. Let’s be serious. Tommy might have a point. There could be someone hiding in the lodge. We didn’t check out every room when we got here.”

  “But why would anyone hide here?” Lexie asked the question. “It’s miles from the nearest town!”

  “You just said it,” Brian stated. “Because it’s miles from the nearest town. Think about it for a minute. If you wanted to hide out somewhere, what better place is there than this? It’s miles from other people, it’s heated, and there’s food in the pantry. What more could you want?”

  “Okay.” Tim took charge again. “Let’s assume that Tommy’s right and there really is someone else here. Since the victims all received notes from Kelly, those notes must be setting the killer off.”

  “That’s right,” Dale said. “I think this is the time for all of us to be totally honest. Who’s been writing the notes?”

  “Not me.” Jennifer shook her head. “Believe me, I’d tell you. This whole thing is getting really scary. But I swear I didn’t write those notes and I don’t know who did!”

  Everyone turned to look at Tim, but he shook his head. “I didn’t write them, either. And I don’t know who did, unless . . . Brian?”

  Brian shook his head. “Not me. I just do special effects. I thought you were writing them, Tommy.”

  “No way!” Tommy sounded outraged. “I didn’t want Tim and Jen to do the séance in the first place. And I certainly didn’t write any notes!”

  Lexie patted him on the arm. “We believe you. And just for the record, I didn’t write them, either. That leaves you, Dale.”

  “Not me.” Dale looked baffled as he shook his head. “Then . . . how did they get here if none of us wrote them?”

  There was silence for a moment and then Jennifer sighed. “Maybe Pete did. He was very encouraging about our skit, and he seemed to like the séances a lot. He might have tried to help by writing the notes.”

  “That’s a possibility . . . I guess.” Tim didn’t sound convinced. “If you’re right, there won’t be any more notes.”

  There was silence again as everyone thought about Pete. And then Tim took charge again. “We’re going to stick together at all times. No one goes anywhere alone. Got it?”

  “How about the bathroom?” Lexie raised her eyebrows.

  “We’ll check it out first. Then you and Jen can go in together. The road crew should be here in a day or two and until they arrive, we’re going to do everything in a group.”

&nb
sp; One by one, they nodded. Tim was right. But Jennifer didn’t say what she was thinking. What if the killer got frustrated because he couldn’t kill just one of them? What if he came out in the open and killed them all at once?

  Someone was lying. He knew it. But no one in the group was willing to admit it. They’d even blamed Pete for the notes and there was no way that Pete could have written them. Pete had come to Foothill High this fall, a month after Kelly had died. Unless he’d talked to Miss Voelker about it, Pete would have had no way of knowing the shade of lipstick that Kelly had worn. He couldn’t have known about her teddy bear seals, or the pin Tommy had given her for Christmas, or her scarf printed with lilacs. The author of the notes had known Kelly personally, and that meant he or she was a member of their group.

  He didn’t believe in Kelly’s ghost. That was ridiculous! Someone here, someone very much alive, suspected that Kelly had been murdered. And until he figured out who that someone was, anyone who was unlucky enough to receive a note from Kelly would simply have to die.

  Eighteen

  It was one in the afternoon and the rain had started to fall again. Jennifer glanced out the window and sighed. It was turning into a gloomy day and there was still no sign of the road crew. Even the cheery fire they’d built in the fireplace did nothing to lift her spirits.

  “I think I’ll try to catch some sleep before it gets dark.” Lexie sounded depressed, too. “Tonight’s Halloween and that might set the killer off. I want to stay up all night, just in case.”