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

“Call me as soon as you hear something,” Sophie called from the front door as I made my way down her driveway. “I’ve got all my fingers crossed that she’s okay.”

“Thanks,” I shouted. I jumped around a wide puddle in the asphalt driveway. It had rained again while I was inside, and the air and the lawns and the whole world seemed to gleam and tingle in the dewy freshness.

The half-moon floated high in the sky, and it lit the roofs of houses all down the block. The windows were mostly dark. It was after midnight. But the houses seemed to shimmer in the still-wet air, and for a moment, I felt as if I were on a movie set. The whole scene couldn’t be real.

It made me feel almost giddy. I guess I was on an emotional roller coaster—sad and frightened because of Marissa, happy because of my fun night with Sophie. I felt alert and alive, as if I could see every blade of grass clearly, every star in the sky.

That feeling ended abruptly when I heard the first footstep behind me.

A soft splash, actually.

I stopped and listened. Silence now. I figured the wind had blown something down from the trees, something that splashed onto the sidewalk behind me.

But as I started to walk again, I heard a scrape and a soft thud that could only be a shoe on concrete.

I spun around and peered into the pool of darkness behind me.

No one there?

The tall trees cast deep shadows. I turned back, stepping into the dim yellow light of a streetlamp as I crossed the street.

My muscles were all tensed now. I realized I was clenching my jaw. I tried to step silently so I could hear the footsteps behind me clearly.

And yes, there they were. Running footsteps, picking up speed as I reached the other side of the street and began to trot.

But I wasn’t fast enough. And a hand grabbed my shoulder roughly. And spun me around.

I screamed.

Then cut the scream short as I recognized my pursuer.

“Doug! What are you doing?” I cried.

His eyes went wide, and then he blinked several times, as if he was having trouble focusing. “Marissa—” he murmured.

I smelled beer on his breath. “Huh? Doug?” I said. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. He seemed to be struggling to keep his balance. His eyes were red-rimmed and his hair was wild and tangled. He shook his head. “Sorry, Harmony. I thought—”

He took an unsteady step back. “The red raincoat. I . . . thought you were Marissa.”

“Oh, God,” I murmured. I’d totally forgotten I was wearing my sister’s raincoat. “Wow. Sorry, Doug.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just shocked. You know. I thought—”

I had a sudden thought. “Hey, Doug—were you in the supermarket this afternoon? Were you . . . watching me?”

He shrugged and lowered his eyes. “Yeah. Maybe. I didn’t think you saw me.”

“Why, Doug?” I asked. “Why were you following me? For news about Marissa? We . . . haven’t heard from her.”

I peered into his eyes, trying to read his mind. “I don’t get it. Doug, what are you doing out here?”

He shrugged. Again, I got a whiff of the beer on his breath. “Just took a walk. You know. The rain stopped and I was bored, so . . .” His voice trailed off.

“We’re all messed up about Marissa,” I said. “The state police gave up their search. They say it’s a missing persons case now. My dad is still out there.” My voice caught in my throat. “It . . . it’s just so hard not knowing if she’s dead or alive.”

Doug locked his eyes on mine. “She’s alive,” he said.

I gasped. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“She’s alive, Harmony.” He rocked unsteadily, then caught his balance.

I stared back at him, chills running down my back. “Doug—what are you saying? How do you know?”

He fumbled in his pocket and tugged out his phone. He raised it close to his face and, squinting hard at the screen, pushed the keyboard with his thumb. “Here. Look,” he said finally. “Look. It’s a text message. It’s from Marissa’s phone.”

“Are you serious?” I grabbed it out of his hand. I pulled the phone close to my face, and my hand trembled as I read the message, all in caps, just like the one in the note I found back at the lodge:

DON’T TRY TO FIND ME