The Wrong Girl (Return to Fear Street Book 2)

“Poppy?”

A deep voice stunned me from my thoughts. I turned to see Benny Kline standing behind the gray desk. His dark eyes were narrowed on me. His pale-blue uniform shirt was tight around his bulging stomach. He had several buttons open, and I could see the black hair that started high on his chest.

“Hi.” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hi, Benny.” I raised my eyes to his.

He rubbed his mustache. “I hear you have a story to tell me.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Not a happy one.”

He motioned with one hand. “Come on back. We’ll go to my office.”

I followed him into the hall. I gave one last glance behind me, hoping to see Manny or Jeremy and Ivy, Jack. Where was Jack? No sign of anyone.

Benny’s “office” was just a cubicle. It had low gray walls and was at the end of a long row of identical spaces. I saw two other officers standing at a long table against the wall, leaning near a coffee machine, and talking in low voices, both gesturing with their hands.

Benny pulled a chair into his cubicle. He had a small desk and a counter along one side of the wall, piled high with papers and files. The light from his computer monitor washed over him as he sat down, as if he was stepping into a spotlight.

“Talk,” he said, tapping a pencil on the desktop.

I cleared my throat. I wasn’t sure if I could speak or not. I don’t think I’d ever been as scared. After all, I was about to confess to a murder. I was about to end my life as I knew it.

“Um . . . I guess maybe I’ll begin at the beginning,” I started. My hands were clenched together in my lap, so tight they ached. “You see, we formed a sort of club. Just five of us, including Manny. We called ourselves the Shadyside Shade, and the idea was to do pranks. You know. Stunts. And put them online. Just for fun. But . . .”

An image of Mr. Harlow grabbing his head and sinking to the floor flashed into my mind and stopped me from talking. For the hundredth time, I heard the pistol go off, the pistol raised in my hand, and I saw the man collapse behind the counter.

“Poppy?” Benny’s voice broke into my horrified thoughts. “Are you okay? Please go on.”

Somehow I went on. I managed to tell him the whole story of the robbery.

He set down the pencil he’d been tapping. His dark eyes narrowed on me as I told him about killing Mr. Harlow, narrowed until they were accusing slits. He rubbed his moustache, massaging it, keeping his stare on me.

“I killed him. It was a total accident, Benny. Jack told me the gun wasn’t loaded. But it was. It was an accident, I swear. It was my fault, but I . . . I didn’t mean . . . I didn’t . . .”

The words choked in my throat. I couldn’t speak.

He kept massaging his moustache, his face expressionless. “So tell me,” he said finally. “You put this online?”

I nodded. “Yes. Manny did.”

He lowered his hand to the desktop. He glimpsed his monitor. “If it was online, why haven’t I received any phone calls? Why haven’t I heard from anyone?”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

He scratched his chest. “Poppy, if people watch a murder online, don’t you think some of them might call the police?”

“I . . . guess.” My head was swimming. I really felt as if I was underwater, struggling to pull myself to the surface.

Benny jumped to his feet. “Two of my guys are out sick. Let’s go visit the crime scene.” He motioned for me to follow him.

I climbed up unsteadily, still feeling as if I was battling ocean waves. “You mean—?”

“Let’s check out Harlow’s store. See what we can see.”

We drove to Harlow’s Pic ’n’ Pay in silence. The only sound was the droning voice on the police radio. The voice seemed far away. My frightened thoughts completely drowned it out.

The lights were on in the store as we turned into the parking lot. I expected to see patrol cars, but there were none. No sirens. No flashing lights. No yellow crime tape stretched around the building.

Benny pulled the car to the front entrance. He pushed open his door. “Let’s go.”

I felt sick. How could something this horrible happen to me? Just because my friends and I were bored? Is that really the reason I ended up killing a man?

Benny waited for me on the sidewalk in front of the store. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” I choked out.

I started toward him. I didn’t see any other cars in the lot. Peering into the window, I didn’t see anyone in the store.

Benny held the door open and motioned for me to go in first.

My legs were like rubber. My breath was coming in short gasps.

Somehow I managed to walk into the store. Benny followed close behind.

I turned and raised my eyes to the front counter.

And opened my mouth in a shrill scream: “No! I don’t believe it!”