When Mary Anne answered the phone, her voice was somber.
"He called you, too?" asked Claudia.
"No. But I found another note today. It was in my locker after school. And it doesn't make any sense either. Listen: 'Why Do You Do the Things You Do?' What things? What is it I'm doing? Why doesn't Logan just tell me? If it is Logan, I mean."
"Oh. The notes that Logan is sending you. I thought it was something, ah, worse."
"Worse? What could be worse than your boyfriend sending you weird notes? And you know what? I think he's starting to act weird, too. I mean, if he has a problem with what I'm doing . . ." Mary Anne stopped. "Of course, it just looks like his handwriting. I mean, it probably isn't Logan. It's probably a bad joke. An extremely bad joke."
"Mary Anne?" Claudia said gently. "Uh, Stacey and I have had more phone calls. We wanted to warn you. Stacey is calling Kristy. And the guy talked again."
Mary Anne's voice changed. "The anonymous phone caller? He talked? What did he say?"
"The same thing he said before: 'You're next.' "
Mary Anne said, "That's it. I'm not answering the phone anymore tonight. Not till Dad and Sharon come home."
Mary Anne told me later that after we hung up the phone, she looked at her watch. Her father and stepmother weren't due home for another hour. The house suddenly seemed very quiet.
In spite of herself, Mary Anne was drawn to the window. She stood to one side of it, pushed the edge of the curtain aside and peered out.
Nobody was out there. All was quiet and still. With a sigh of relief, Mary Anne turned around. She decided to go down to the kitchen and make some hot chocolate - and to check on the doors to make sure they were locked.
A few minutes later she was sitting at the kitchen table drinking hot chocolate when the cat door flipped open and Tigger slid through.
"Tigger," said Mary Anne. "It's cold outside! Aren't you freezing?"
Tigger wove himself in and out among the table legs, purring a giant purr.
"How about some warm milk?" Mary Anne suggested.
Her kitten purred even louder.
Mary Anne tilted the last bit of milk from the saucepan on the stove into a saucer. She put the saucer down for Tigger.
That was when she saw it.
Something white was attached to Tigger's collar. It had been taped to the tag with his name and address and phone number on it.
Surprised, Mary Anne picked Tigger up. He meowed protestingly and struggled to get back to his milk. She unfastened the piece of paper and put him back down.
It was a tightly folded square, like the notes kids pass at school. She unfolded it.
And gave a little scream.
It was a note, written with letters cut from the newspaper.
It said, "YOU'RE NEXT."
That freaked us all out. But it was, as Kristy pointed out, "hard evidence." She convinced Mary Anne to put the note in an envelope, "in case there were any fingerprints left," and to bring it to the BSC meeting the next day.
I was thinking about the note as I walked to Claudia's that Friday afternoon. I was also thinking about the crank calls, and yes, Shadow Lake.
It was late afternoon, one of those gloomy, shadowy, cold days that are completely depressing unless you're thinking, as I was, Hmmm, looks like it might snow.
I peered up at the sky. I stepped off the curb.
The car came out of nowhere.
I turned. It was heading toward me, picking up speed as it approached. It was a huge car, shiny and red and powerful-looking. The motor sounded like the roar of the subway, bearing down on me.
I froze.
I put my hands out as if that would stop the car, as if that would keep it from running right over me, from killing me.
This is it, I thought. I'm going to die.
I screamed and closed my eyes, and waited for the car to hit me. I had time to wonder if it would hurt.
The driver must have braked at the last minute. I heard the screech of tires as it swerved, and I opened my eyes as it hurtled past, inches away. I felt the wind brush my hands as the car sped by me.
I turned to watch it go. It careened crazily down the street and around the corner with another scream of tires.
I realized that I was standing in the street with my hands raised. I lowered them.
I hadn't been able to see the license plate number, although I'd seen that it was a Connecticut plate. But I'd recognized the Mercedes symbol on the hood. And I'd also recognized the blue hexagonal sticker on the rear bumper.
Whoever had almost run over me was a lousy driver in a very good car. And he - or she - was also a member of the Stoneybrook Business Bureau.
I don't remember the rest of the walk to the BSC meeting, or what I thought about, except one thing: I could hardly wait to get out of Stoneybrook. Things here were way, way out of control.
The meeting was as much about the mystery as about baby-sitting, especially after Stacey came crashing through my bedroom door looking as if she'd seen a ghost.
When she told us what had happened, we were all freaked. I gave Stacey a glass of water and Mary Anne made her sit in a chair.
"It was an accident," Stacey said over and over.
"Even if it was an accident," I said, "you should report it to the police. That person could have killed you!"
Abby said, "And maybe it wasn't an accident."
Stacey managed a faint smile. "Well, it wasn't, technically. I mean, whoever it was swerved at the last minute and missed me. So I don't think the police could do anything, anyway."
"Could it be the man with the blue tattoo?" said Jessi suddenly.
Stacey's eyes widened. "You don't really think he's come back, do you?"
"Maybe," Kristy said. "I still think it's possible that this is all connected to those robbers we saw running out of Mr. Seger's house. I think we should include it in the mystery notebook."
"Right," I said. "Now. Who do we know who owns a red Mercedes?"
Silence fell. Then Mary Anne said, "That's easy - no one."
"Mr. Seger?" Mal wondered.
"Old blue Volvo," said Abby. "But well maintained."
Stacey said, "The blue sticker on the Mercedes was the same as the blue Business Bureau sticker on Mr. Seger's car, though."
Logan and Shannon had come to the meeting, because with four BSC members out of town, we would probably need their help this weekend. Logan, who was sitting next to Mary Anne, said, "We can keep an eye out for the red Mercedes this weekend." He nudged Mary Anne. "Can't we?"
Mary Anne asked, "Did you put the anonymous note I got with the other mystery dues, Mal?" She gave Logan a long, hard look.
Was it my imagination, or did Logan suddenly look uncomfortable?
Mal said, "I did."
"We'll all keep an eye on things," Shannon promised. "I'll even take Astrid for some nice long walks this weekend, and we'll check out Mr. Seger's house."
Then the phone rang, and dub business occupied our attention for the next twenty minutes. By the time the phone stopped ringing, both Logan and Shannon had sitting jobs over the weekend.
When the phone was silent, Kristy said, "Speaking of snow ..."
"It will snow," Abby said firmly. She held up her arms in a goal sign. "Ski Shadow Lake!"
I didn't say anything. It was weird to listen to Abby bragging about her skiing.
Stacey asked, very casually, "So, Kristy, how's Sam doing?"
"Cross as two sticks," said Kristy promptly. "He's the one who did the breaking up, but I don't think that makes him feel any better. Especially since she won't speak to him right now."
I knew Stacey was worried about Sam not just because he was recovering from a breakup, but because she was afraid he might rebound in her direction. At least, I thought, she didn't have to worry about Robert being a jealous jerk. She'd told him about Sam, and that Sam was going to be along on the trip, and Robert had just grinned and said, "Lucky Sam."
"Well, speaking of detective work, I'm going to take Becca along to Mal's house for our sitting job tomorrow," Jessi told us. "And I thought maybe we could go shopping, and sort of keep an eye out for the man with the blue tattoo. Maybe if Becca sees him while we're in a store or something, he won't seem so sinister. And I thought we could make it into a sort of game. You know, playing detective."
"You go have fun," said Mal stiffly to Jessi. "I'll stay at home with whoever doesn't feel like shopping, and work on the mystery notebook."
Kristy said, "Well, Watson came bounding up the stairs this morning and practically turned blue in the face. So I want you guys to promise that on this trip, you'll help me keep him from doing too much."
We promised we would.
Kristy looked at her watch. "This meeting of the BSC is officially adjourned."
"Allll right!" I cried. "Shadow Lake, here we come."
Chapter 12.
Abby.
"My skis," Kristy said with a gasp. "Did you put my skis in?''
"They're in the van," said Charlie, "with all of ours."
Stacey said, "You're sure I can rent skis when I get there?"
"Sure you can," Kristy told her as Charlie reached out for my skis.
"Hey, be careful with those," I warned him. I looked at Claudia, who was standing next to a large duffel bag. "Did he treat your skis like that?" I said. I was kidding, of course.
Charlie grinned. Claudia frowned. "No," she said.
"Hey, are you playing favorites? Or what?" I asked Charlie.
"The binding is broken on one of my skis," said Claudia. "I have to rent them."
"See, Stace? You can rent skis just like Claudia."
"Not if it doesn't snow," Kristy put in. Suddenly she leaped forward. "I'll take that," she said to Watson, and jerked a suitcase out of his hand so quickly he almost lost his balance. "Where do you want it?"
Watson looked surprised. "Uh, thanks, Kristy. It goes in the luggage rack on top of the station wagon."
Mr. Brewer was driving a van. Mrs. Brewer was driving a station wagon. If anybody had been hovering overhead in a helicopter, we would have looked like a bunch of ants on an anthill, running back and forth from the house to the cars, and from car to car, trying to pack everything in.
But at last all the gear was tied on, tucked in, stowed away, and accounted for. That left only the people.
Kristy said, "Why don't we divide up into two groups of two baby-sitters? We can keep an eye on Karen, David Michael, and Andrew."
"Fine by me," I said. "I think I'll go in the van. Keep an eye on the skis, too."
Claudia said, "Then I'll go in the station wagon."
Kristy looked faintly surprised, and I myself was a little taken aback at how grim Claudia sounded. Maybe she hadn't counted on babysitting on this trip. If she'd asked me, I could have told her that with Kristy around, we'd be organized into doing something.
Karen announced, "I am riding in the van. It has taller seats. You can look down into the cars you pass and see what is in them."
"It'll be dark, Karen," said David Michael. "It already is."
"Well, if the cars we pass have ghosts in them, we will be able to see those in the dark," Karen began, her blue eyes growing huge behind her glasses. Karen has what some call a "vivid imagination." Sometimes I think she's plugged into Mars. I mean, I've never met a kid like her.
"Ghosts?" David Michael's eyes grew huge, too.
"We're not going to pass any cars full of ghosts," I said. "They only travel on Hallo-ween. That's a ghost rule."