You May Now Kill the Bride (Return to Fear Street Book 1)

Robby blinked. He pulled the phone away from his ear, then pressed it back. “We have a bad connection,” he told Nikki. “I thought I just heard you say you were home.”

“But I am home,” I heard Nikki reply. “Where else would I be, Robby?”

“But . . . I was just at your house,” Robby told her.

I heard a loud click. “Nikki? Are you there? Nikki?” Robby cursed under his breath. “Lost her.”

He pushed her number again. This time it went right to voice mail. He slammed the phone against the dashboard.

“Hey, don’t have a fit,” I said. “Take a breath. Count to ten.”

He grabbed my arm. “Turn around. Turn the car around, Harmony.”

I nearly sideswiped a parked SUV. “Are you serious?” I snapped. “Let go of me. I promised Mom I’d do the shopping.”

“Go back,” he insisted. “Go back to her house. I don’t get this. I mean—”

“Okay, okay,” I said. I switched the wipers on to high. The rain was coming down hard now, swept with strong gusts of wind. I clicked the headlights on. It was nearly as dark as night.

“I just don’t get it,” he repeated.

“Maybe she told her mom she was going camping and went to stay with a friend,” I said.

“You mean another guy?” Robby’s voice rose to the low roof of the car.

“No. I mean . . . well . . .” I realized I’d said a stupid thing. “Uh . . . maybe Nikki’s mom got it wrong. Maybe Nikki plans to go camping next week or something.”

Oh, God. Why didn’t I just shut up? I wasn’t helping the situation any. Robby pushed Nikki’s number again on his phone and again it went straight to voice mail.

A truck sped by and sent a wave of water over my side of the car. I gripped the wheel tightly in both hands and turned onto Nikki’s street. I saw a jagged bolt of lightning streak down in the distance.

I slowed as we drove onto Nikki’s block. A black SUV was backing down her driveway. I recognized Mrs. Parker’s white baseball cap and platinum hair. “Nikki’s mom is leaving,” I said.

“I’ve got eyes,” Robby muttered.

I knew he was upset. Otherwise, I would have slugged him.

He jumped out before I stopped the car. Ducking his head against the rain, he ran onto the front stoop, splashed through a puddle at the top step, and pounded with his fist on the front door.

I watched from the car, the windshield wipers sending a steady beat as background music. I wanted the door to open. I wanted Nikki to be there. I wanted for Robby not to be disappointed. I wanted him to find out the truth.

Someone needed to find out the truth about something. Because I felt like we were all living in a world of total confusion, a world of no answers, no answers at all. It was exhausting. And more than that, I felt myself on the edge of tears, ready at all times to break out crying.

I could feel my emotions on the surface, feel the prickling tension on my skin, all along my arms and legs, feel the tense tightness in my chest.

So I wanted Nikki to be there. I wanted something to have a happy ending.

But she wasn’t there. Robby pounded the door and rang the bell, shoving his thumb down on it and pushing like he wanted to destroy it. He stood there, rain soaking his maroon hoodie, staring at the door as if he could will it to open.

But no. No Nikki. Nobody at all.

And he slumped back beside me in the car, closed the door, and sat there with his head down for a long time, his rain-drenched hair matted to his head.

“Why did she lie to me?” he asked finally. He wiped rainwater off his cheeks with one hand.

Again, I thought he might be talking to himself. But I answered anyway. “Who knows? Could be a dozen reasons. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but you know she is a total flake.”

He scowled. “You’re so helpful. Thanks.”

“Well . . . maybe she’s in the woods somewhere like her mom said, and she doesn’t want you to worry about her. She thinks you’re still at the lodge. So she told you she was home.”

He scowled some more. “Lame. Try again.”

“Look. Maybe Nikki just . . . needed some space,” I said. I shifted into reverse and started to back down the driveway. “You two have been all over each other. Maybe she was suffocating. Maybe she just needed to breathe.”

“Wow. You suck at this,” he said.

“I suck at what?”

“At cheering me up.”

“Since when is that my job?” I could feel myself losing it. “Robby, we have a lot more important things to worry about than why Nikki lied about being home. Like our sister. Remember our sister? She’s either lost or kidnapped or in hiding or out of her mind or dead or . . . or . . .” I was breathing too hard to continue.

“Okay, okay,” Robbie said softly. “You’re right. Of course.” He turned away from me and stared at the raindrops sliding down the passenger window.

We drove home in silence, with the only sound the soft, steady scrape and squeak of the windshield wipers.

I dropped Robby home, then drove to the grocery store. The store was crowded—I guess people were stocking up for barbecues.

I was distracted. The fluorescent glare of the overhead lights made me feel as if I were maneuvering my cart through a fog. I kept checking my phone, seeing if there was a message from Mom or Robby that they had heard from Dad back at the lodge.

The only message was from my friend Sophie, asking if I was back and did I want to come over and watch some movies or something on Netflix and order a pizza.

“Yes, I do,” I murmured aloud. Something normal. Something to maybe keep me from wondering about Marissa for at least a few hours.

The checkout line was long. I grabbed a magazine off the rack to occupy my mind. But suddenly, a cold feeling gripped me. I felt a chill at the back of my neck.

Someone is watching me.

It was more than a feeling. It was as if I could feel someone’s eyes on my skin.

I swung around, nearly knocking over the woman in line behind me. I saw quick movement a few aisles behind me. Someone darting out of sight?

I realized my heart was pounding. Was I imagining the whole thing? My mind was in such a total state of tension.

No. I had the cold tingling on my skin again. I turned back. No one there.

“Hey, miss—it’s your turn,” the woman behind me said, annoyed.

One last glance. No one there. I spun away and began to load my groceries onto the conveyor.

The rain had nearly stopped when I pulled up the driveway with a trunk full of groceries. To my surprise, Robby came hurrying out the kitchen door to help me carry them in. This was not like Robby at all. As I said before, he’s allergic to helping out with pretty much anything. Maybe he felt guilty for the way he talked to me earlier in the car.

“How’s Mom? Did you hear from Dad?” I asked, fumbling with the bags.

“Mom is a little better,” he reported. “She’s still in her room, but she isn’t crying or anything.”

He held the door open for me with his shoulder and I squeezed past him, my arms full. “And Dad? Did he call?”

“Yeah. But the news isn’t really good.”

“What do you mean?”

He lowered his bags to the kitchen counter. “There’s still no sign of Marissa anywhere. And no clues, Dad said. The police are giving up their helicopter search.”

I stopped to think. “That could be good news, you know. It means they didn’t find her body at the bottom of the cliff.” I pictured poor Taylor, her body crushed on the rocks, her pale face so still and empty.

Would I ever wipe her glassy stare from my mind?

“Yeah. Dad said the police are calling it a missing persons case,” Robby said. He followed me back out to the car to retrieve the rest of the groceries.

I sighed. “How did Dad sound?”

“Mom talked to him. I didn’t.” He lifted out a light bag with bread and cereal boxes and left the heavy bag for me.

“Did he say he was coming home?” I asked.

Robby shook his head. “I think he’s staying out there another day or two. You know. Just in case something turns up.”

Marissa, where are you? Are you going to turn up?

I slammed the car trunk shut. A few drops of rain, swept down from the tree leaves, splashed my forehead. The cold made my skin tingle, and I shivered, more from my thoughts than from the water.

Sophie and I always have a good, giggling time together. She’s seventeen like me, but she looks twelve. She’s so short and skinny, and the big round-framed glasses she wears somehow make her face look babyish, and she has a little bit of a cartoon voice.

She’s an awesome friend, and she lives three blocks from me, and we like the same movies and TV shows, and guys. I think Sophie disapproves a little of all the guys I’ve been with. But she’s happy to take the overflow. Ha.

I feel guilty to admit it, given what has happened, but I always—since at least fourth grade—wished that Sophie was my sister instead of Marissa.

The rain had stopped. I pulled on Marissa’s old red raincoat and walked to Sophie’s house. The air felt cool and wet, refreshing on my hot face, and the lawns all sparkled under a bright half-moon. Two boys raced by on bikes, sending up splashes of water from deep puddles left by the rain. Somewhere down the block, two dogs were taking turns barking at each other, an intense conversation.

Normal life.

Sophie greeted me at the door with a story about a guy in our class who keeps texting her hi but then never responding after that.

I wanted to laugh about it and listen to her stories in her little cartoon voice, and tell stories of my own. But I realized as soon as the two of us were sprawled on pillows on the floor of her den that I couldn’t have a normal night. There was no way I could just keep my story inside, push it away. I had to tell Sophie about Marissa and the nightmare at the lodge.

She listened openmouthed, her dark eyes bulging behind her big eyeglasses. And when I finished, she threw her arms around my shoulders and held me in a tight hug.

Then we stood there awkwardly. Both of us had tears in our eyes, and neither of us knew what to say next. But then Sophie’s black Lab, Monroe, burst into the room, jumped up on me, and knocked me backward. I landed on my back on one of the big pillows on the floor, and the dog loomed over me and began licking my face.

“Stop! Stop!” I cried, laughing. Sophie pulled the dog away, but Monroe had succeeded in changing the mood.

We ordered a pizza and watched a funny old comedy on Netflix with Cameron Diaz and Ben Stiller, and we talked and laughed as if everything was okay, as if my family wasn’t ruined, and my life wasn’t crumbling.

We had a lot of fun, the way Sophie and I always do.

And nothing frightening happened to me until I walked home.