“We should get back,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
“You’re the one who always brags his parents don’t care when he comes home.”
“Yeah, but I have a chemistry exam in the afternoon. I’d better put in an hour of study before I crash.”
Standing in the center of the road, she folded her arms.
“If you have to. I guess I’ll go home too. My literature paper is due tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t want to disappoint Mr. Pierpoint.”
A shiver rolled down her back.
“He’s so creepy. I swear the guy follows me around school.”
“Mr. Pierpoint is a good guy, not a creeper. He seems to like me, anyway.”
“That’s because you’re the teacher’s pet.”
“No way.”
“You kinda are.” She glanced out at the meadow when something scurried through the tall grass. “I suppose we should call it a night before the ghouls rise. Walk with me to Spruce Street?”
“You got it.”
Derek didn’t want to say goodbye. In his dreams, tomorrow wasn’t a school day, and he could spend the night with Valerie, just the two of them against the night. They held hands as they walked, the hint of a smile quirking her lips. Spruce Street arrived quicker than he’d hoped. They kissed again, this one lingering as the fog curled around their ankles. Then he watched her travel down Spruce and cut through her driveway. Satisfied she’d made it to her house, Derek hopped the curb. The way home took him past the railroad tracks again. Like an ancient road to nowhere, the tracks glowed amid the thickening mist. He pulled his jacket together, aware of how cold it had become. Home was two miles away.
His phone buzzed as a text arrived. Leland.
Besides Valerie, Gardner Raimi and Leland Trivett were Derek’s closest friends. Derek grinned at the message. Leland had listened to Valerie’s show.
Awesome skit, jackass. You’re no Freddy. Want to spend the night? I got a package from Harmon.
Which meant he’d scored weed. Leland bought from a guy who ran with a gang in Harmon. The Royals. One of these days, Leland would get them all killed.
Leland’s house was a half-mile past the railroad tracks. Derek could be there in five minutes if he hustled. His teeth chattered. Suddenly, getting high and bumming a ride with Leland tomorrow morning sounded like a reasonable plan. He messaged his mother to let her know he was staying with Leland. Not that she’d care. Then he started down the unlit road, the cold crawling inside his coat and raising goosebumps on his skin.
He didn’t notice the headlights moving along the gravel until they lit his face. He covered his eyes and kept walking. The motor gunned.
Derek had a split-second to react before the sedan leapt at him. He jumped out of the way and ran for the tracks. Was the driver drunk? The dark-colored sedan skidded to a halt and backed up as Derek caught his breath.
“What the hell?”
Derek turned and sprinted when the car shot forward. Frigid air burned his lungs and sapped his strength. The bumper brushed his leg as he scampered out of the way. The sedan wheeled around, the driver preparing for another attack. Derek’s heart slammed. The maniac meant to kill him.
As the car swerved, he caught sight of the driver. No, this wasn’t real.
The driver wore a Halloween pumpkin mask. Derek froze.
The door flew open on the sedan. Moonlight glimmered off the butcher’s knife as the macabre figure stalked across the road. Derek ran.
The maniac’s footsteps pounded the earth behind him. Closing in. As Derek increased his speed, the masked stranger threw himself at Derek and tackled him to the ground. Screaming for help, Derek rolled to his back and stared at the mask’s leering grin. A hand gripped his throat and squeezed, pinning him in place.
The blade plunged into his chest. Blood geysered and splattered the mask. Derek’s mouth fell open.
The killer glared down at Derek until the teenager’s eyes fluttered and fell shut.
Blood pooled beneath the boy as he sucked in his last breath.
CHAPTER FIVE
October 31st
12:35 a.m.
A thump in the dark brought Raven awake.
She sat up in bed and reached for her gun on the nightstand. Fog slithered down the window, gray light pouring across the hardwood floors. Holding the weapon, she held her breath and listened. It was quiet now, the sound of a crypt in the dead of night. Chalking the noise up to a dream, she set the gun aside and lay back on the pillow. She was making herself crazy. Mark Benson wouldn’t return to Nightshade County after escaping prison. He’d scramble for the border, reach Mexico before the police closed in. She couldn’t shake the memory of Benson’s eyes the night Darren and Deputy Lambert caught the kidnapper on a farm-to-market road outside Wolf Lake. Those eyes had promised revenge if he ever caught Raven again.
Raven placed the extra pillow over her eyes and blocked out the moonlight. Her chest rose and fell as her breathing regulated. She wanted to call Darren. More so, she wished the state park ranger was here to watch over the house. She chided herself for being a coward. Raven could best most men in a fight, and she’d tackled and subdued fleeing male suspects who’d outweighed her by fifty pounds. She spent five days per week in the gym, ran intervals on the treadmill, benched one-hundred-fifty pounds five times without breaking a sweat, and squatted more weight than the muscle heads.
So why was she so scared?
Sleep crept up on her. The thump came again. From inside the house.
Raven bolted upright and clutched the gun, pulse racing as she edged off the bed. A floorboard groaned under her weight.
She stood at the bedroom door and waited. If Benson was in the house, he’d find Mom’s room first. Hers was the first down the hallway.
Gritting her teeth,
