“Oh God,” she whispered before running from the room.
Mandy sat with a cup of coffee, her back to the only wall in the kitchen that didn’t have windows. When she heard her parents walking down the stairs, she lifted the knife from the table and returned it to the holder on the counter. She thought of the gun Laurel had offered, wishing she’d said yes, but knew the knife would have to do for now. She’d sneak it upstairs later once her parents were busy. Her parents greeted her with sleepy “mornings” and poured themselves coffee. They didn’t look as angry. In fact, their expressions were soft and understanding. They took turns kissing her on the cheek.
“Sleep okay?” her father asked.
“Yes,” she lied.
“You look like you were up all night,” her mother said.
“Thanks a lot.”
“I’m allowed to be worried. Did you really sleep?”
“I’m fine, mom.”
At ten-thirty, Officer Romero called. She didn’t have good news.
“The file you sent me crashed my system,” she said. “Our support people are going through it now, but they think there was a virus attached to the picture. It might have infected your e-mail, which is how this guy was able to access your files.”
“What about the username and e-mail address?” Mandy asked.
“Nothing yet, but it’s the weekend. Nobody moves very fast. I’m sure we’ll have something soon. How are you holding up?”
Mandy looked around the kitchen to make sure her parents weren’t near and said, “I’m scared.”
“It’s okay to be scared,” Officer Romero told her. “But the more I think about this, the more I believe we just have a geek with a sick sense of humor.”
“I hope you’re right,” Mandy said.
“We’ll keep a car in your neighborhood. You hang in there.”
“Thank you. I will.”
Mandy hung up the phone. She stared at it, expecting it to ring, expecting Kyle to be on the other end taunting her. When that didn’t happen, she pulled the big kitchen knife from the holder, held it close to her side, so she could hide it if her parents surprised her in the hall, then went up to her room.
She stepped inside, her eyes immediately drawn to the monitor. The swirls and lines of her screen saver played over the screen. Leaving her door open, Mandy went to the bed and slid the knife under her pillow.
At her computer, she killed the screen saver and looked at Kyle’s picture file. What do you look like now? she wondered, her hand hovering over the mouse.
He was even older. His hair now completely white and jutting from his head in wisps like the fluff of a cotton ball. The nose was bigger, the wrinkles deeper. A virus, she thought. An advanced program masked as a jpeg.
She wanted to delete the image, just double click it into oblivion, but Mandy knew she couldn’t. Officer Romero might need her to send it again, or else the police might send computer experts to examine her system. It was the only real evidence they had.
In an act of defiance, refusing to completely give in to her fear, Mandy left the image open. It would remind her to be scared, remind her to be careful.
Sitting on her bed, she lifted the handset of the clunky phone and dialed Laurel’s cell number. It went directly to voice mail, and Mandy remembered her friend was at “gun school.” She left a message, insisting Laurel call as soon as she could. Then, she called Drew, but she couldn’t talk because she was at Corey’s with Jacob having pancakes.
“Call me later. It’s important.”
“I will. Swear to God.”
Finally, she called Dale. His father answered the phone, his voice gruff with annoyance. Mandy remembered what Dale said about him being so unhappy and, for a flicker of a moment, she wondered what else the man could want. But then Dale was on the phone.
“You okay?” he asked. He didn’t sound angry or hurt anymore. That was good.
“Didn’t sleep very well,” she admitted.
“Me either. I don’t think I slept at all.”
“Can you come over?” Mandy asked. “I think I’d really like to have you here right now.”
“Is that cool with your parents?”
“Sure. I mean, I think so. They said I could have friends over.”
“Okay,” he said. “But I have to do some things around here first. Dad is having a particularly asslike day. It might be an hour or two. Is that cool?”
“As soon as you can,” Mandy said.
Back at the computer, she saw that the picture had changed again. She’d only been on the phone for less than three minutes, but already, the white tufts of hair were thinner. The eyes narrower. The dark smudge, where a hairbrush had been, was fading. She could almost make out an object, silver and metallic, beneath. She looked away, out the window. When she looked back, the picture had changed again.
“It can’t be,” she said.
She saw it then, the resemblance to another face. Before, he had hid behind youth, but now that façade was crumbling away.
It was a face she’d seen on a news broadcast. The face she’d stared at in horror after Laurel downloaded his image from the Web. The face of the man in her dreams. The Witchman.
“I’ve never heard of anything like this,” Laurel said. “I’ll give it to the freak, he’s got skills.”
“Yeah,” Mandy said nervously, twirling the phone cord around her finger. “Let’s all compliment my personal psycho.”
“Sorry, M.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m just creeped out, but the police are circling the neighborhood. My parents refuse to leave the house, and Dale will be here in a few minutes.”
“What’s he look like now?” Laurel asked.
Mandy looked at the screen, at the picture of the man. Thinner hair. Nose more pronounced than ever. Chin pointed. A slightly younger version of the Witchman she’d seen on the video scowled out at her from beneath a saluting hand. In his other hand where there was once a hairbrush, he held a long, narrow-bladed knife that caught a glimmer of light.
Ten minutes ago, when she was absolutely sure it was the same man, she called Officer Romero, whose computer was still out cold from the invading virus. Less than two minutes later, she saw a police car circling her block. The men didn’t park or come in, which Mandy thought was odd, but Officer Romero assured her that she herself would be at Mandy’s within the hour. By then, the traces on Kyle Nevers would be in.
“Hey,” Laurel said. “You still there?”
“I’m here, just don’t ask me about the picture again.”
“So, how is this going to play? You need some company tonight?”
“Yes,” Mandy said. “But I can’t have it. The police don’t want too many people wandering around the house. They say it makes their job harder.”
“Well, you know I’m there if you need me.”
“I know,” Mandy said. Then, before she knew it, she was saying, “I love you, L. I never tell you that, but you’re a great friend.”
“Love you, too, Girl. Be strong.”
“I will,” she said, and hung up the phone. It felt like she was saying good-bye forever.
Mandy walked through the house, looking at the sleek furniture her mother adored, finally able to see some beauty in the hard smooth surfaces. Despite their cold appearance, they brought light to the rooms, bits of sun dancing off glass tables and the facets of crystal knick-knacks. She found her parents in the kitchen. Both were still drinking coffee. She hugged them tightly.
She was safe here, with her family. The doors were locked. Dale would be there soon. She was so very afraid, but she was also rational (Laurel always said so), and logic told her she was safe. She would go upstairs and lie down until Dale arrived—Where are you?—and they’d all wait together until the police called to say they’d caught the son of a bitch, and they could resume their normal lives.