Don't Scream Part 4

Do you want me to walk you in? Alec asks, but he doesnt shift the car intoPARK .

He thinks Im going to say no. He probably senses that I just need some solitude.

Her fiance likes to brag that hes getting pretty good at reading her moods. By the time we walk down the aisle, Ill be able to read your mind, he often says lately.

But he isnt reading it right now.

If he was, hed come inside with her, and hed turn on all the lights and look under the bed and inside all the closets.

Well, I dont need him for that. I can take care of myself.

No, you can go, Ca.s.sie tells him. Thanks for dinner.

See you tomorrow?

Whats tomorrow?

Friday, he says, as if thats all the answer she had in mind.

Oh. Right. He said see you tomorrow not because its any special occasion, but because they see each other every day now.

Thats what people do when theyre getting married. And after theyre married.

They see each other every day for the rest of their lives.

Till death do us part,Ca.s.sandra thinks, and suppresses an involuntary shudder as she plants a light kiss on her fiances cheek and walks slowly up the path toward her darkened condo.

And so its begun.

I only wish I could be in four places at once tonight.

Yes, it would be a pleasure to personally witness their reactions to the days mailto see the looks on their faces now that they know the secret isnt theirs alone.

Listening to them is the next best thing.

The bugs have been in place for a long time now, in antic.i.p.ation of today.

At first it was t.i.tillating to eavesdrop on even the most inane conversations: Fiona barking orders, Brynn reading to her children, Ca.s.sandra unenthusiastically planning her wedding, and Tildy Ah, Tildys private life yielded the most interesting gem of all.

Still, even that became tiresome after awhile.

It was all just mind-numbing chatter.

But not anymore.

Fiona Fitzgerald Public Relations.

Brynn is momentarily caught off guard by the unfamiliar voice. She was expecting Fees longtime office manager. Then she remembers that Sharon moved away last weekthus abandoning Fiona, as Fee so dramatically put it.

Is Is Fiona there? she manages to get out to whoever just answered the phone.

May I ask whos calling, please?

She clears her throat, but her voice still comes out sounding strangled. Tell her its Brynn.

Brenda?

Brynn!

One moment.

She flashes a rea.s.suring smile at her sons, both of whom have stopped eating and are watching her worriedly.

Its okay, guys Mommy just has to make a quick call, thats all. Ill be right with you.

Ketchup! Jeremy bangs the table with his fists.

She is hurriedly squirting another dollop on his already oozing-red macaroni when the voice comes back on the line. Ms. Fitzgerald said to take a message and sh.e.l.l call you back.

The message is pick up the G.o.ddathe gosh-darned phone right now! Brynn says through clenched teeth.

Theres a pause.

Excuse me?

Look, tell her its an extreme emergency and I need to speak to her immediately.

All right, Ill tell her. Can I have a number where she can reach you?

No, you cant, because Im not hanging up! Please tell her to pick up right now.

The girl hesitates.

Realizing Fiona has already put the fear of G.o.d in her new employee, Brynn softens her tone to say, Listen, I will take full blame for this. Just tell her I need to talk to her. Please.

Hang on.

Pacing the kitchen, Brynn absently glances from the sink full of dirty dishes to the steaks thawing on the white laminate countertop to the cheery blue welcome mat askew on the hardwood floor beside the door leading out to the deck.

The orange prescription bottles on the windowsill momentarily trigger her consciousness. Both she and Caleb are due for another dose of antibiotics. Shed better not forget.

Then theres a click on the line, and Fiona asks crisply, Whats going on, Brynn? Im in the middle of Whatever it is, this is more important, she cuts in, furtively taking the phone into the dining room.

I doubt that. Ive got a really important new client on the other line, so make it snappy.

Mommy! Jeremy protests from the kitchen.

Ill be right back, boys. Caleb, sing to him!

Ever obedient, her older son obliges with a singsong,A-B-C-D-E-F-G Whats this about, Brynn? Emily said it was a life-or-death emergency. I hear the kids in the background so Im a.s.suming youre not calling me to dash over and save one of them.

Yeah, right. Fiona is the last person shed call in that situation.

Listen, she says in a whisper, its about Rachel.

Silence.

Brynn can hear Caleb singing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star in the kitchen.

Then Did you sayRachel?

Yes.

Rachel Lorent? Fionas voice is as hushed as Brynns.

Right.

I know, todays her birthday. I was thinking about her earlier, actually, and Fee, I just got a card. In the mail. From Rachel, supposedly.

No response.

Fee?

Hang on a second.

Brynn pokes her head into the kitchen, to make sure the boys are okay.

Caleb has progressed to Mary Had A Little Lamb, obviously moving right along through his musical repertoire. Jeremy is wearing most of his macaroni and cheese, the rest scattered on the hardwood floor beside the overturned bowl.

Fiona curses softly in Brynns ear.

What?

Me, too. I got one, too.

Got what?

A card. In the mail. As soon as you said it, I remembered there was an envelopeI was too busy to open it earlier, but My G.o.d, Brynn, whats going on? Is this some kind of sick joke?

Played by who?

Fiona takes a moment to answer. Tildy? Or Ca.s.sie? she asks, and exhales audibly, the way she does when shes puffing on a cigarette. Which she probably is. Sitting right beneath theNO SMOKING sign above her desk.

You honestly believe that either of them would think this is the least bit funny?

No. Of course not. Anyway, it was postmarked in Cedar Crest, so I know. Fee, I have to ask you Did you ever tell anyone?

Are you kidding me? No. Did you?

Brynns No! is as decisive as Fionas, but her friend asks, Are you sure? Not even Garth?

I didnt tell Garth. What about Pat? she returns.

Do you honestly think I would violate a sorority oath forhim? Fionas tone is laced with disdain.

One of the others must have, then.

Right, Tildy or Ca.s.sie must have told someone, and whoever it was probably thought it would be funny to play this sick trick on us.

I dont know Brynn examines the card again. This looks real. This is how Rachel signed everything.

Rachels dead, Brynn. It cant be real.

No, I know, but If it was somebody else, somebody Tildy or Ca.s.sie told, then how would that person know about theX s andO s?

I dont know Lucky guess? Rachel sent a message from beyond the grave? I mean, what do you want me to say here, Brynn?

I want you to say you did it yourself that you sent me the card, thinking it would be funny, and now that you know Im all freaked out about it, you cant figure out how to get out of it.

But Fiona doesnt say any of that.

She asks, When was the last time you talked to Tildy or Ca.s.sie?

Tildy, not in over a year. I spoke to Ca.s.sie when she got engaged last spring. How about you?

Me? I dont keep in touch with anyone lately. If you didnt live here in town Id probably have lost you, too. She is more matter-of-fact than apologetic.

I think we need to see them as soon as possible, Fee.

See them? How are we going to do that? Im too busy to go anywhere, and Tildys in Boston and Ca.s.sies in Rhode Island.

Connecticut. Listen, well have to meet somewhere in between and discuss this. All four of us, together.

She can hear Fiona tapping keys.

Just so you know, my schedule is crammed full for the next week, she informs Brynn, obviously having brought up her electronic calendar.

Make room. Brynns voice is hoa.r.s.e, and not from the strep throat. This is bad, Fee. Really bad.

Its probably just a joke.

No, its not.

Brynn can feel it.

The past has caught up to them at last, just as she always feared it would.

The Zeta Delta Kappa house is brightly lit on this September night. Several windows are cracked open and music spills through the screens to mingle with the spirited chatter from the group of girls hanging out on the front steps.