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

Mom and Robby crowded behind me. It was warm inside the house, and the living room smelled of floor polish or some kind of cleaner.

“Marissa?”

I heard the rapid tap of footsteps in the back hall. My heart tapped along with each beat. I strode forward, eager to see her, to throw my arms around her, to feel her warm cheek against mine.

I stopped when the blond woman in the white top came into view. “Ada?” Her name burst from my mouth, high and shrill. “Ada?”

She smiled. “You’re home early. How was the wedding?”

Mom and Robby gazed at her in silence.

Ada Barnes. Our tall, beautiful housekeeper who should be a supermodel. I hadn’t remembered that she’d be working today.

Her smile faded. She brushed a hand through her short, wavy hair. “You all look exhausted. Is everything okay?”

“Not really,” I said. I didn’t want to tell her the whole story. My head was spinning. Pain throbbed at my temples. The hope of seeing Marissa home and safe had crashed, and my mind and body were crashing now, too.

“There were some problems,” Mom said, tugging off her jacket. She draped it over the back of the couch. “The wedding didn’t happen.” Her face crumpled. She looked about to start crying again.

Ada gasped. Her big round blue eyes went wide and she pressed a hand over her mouth. “Oh good Lord.”

“I forgot the bags,” Robby said. He turned and hurried out the front door to get them.

“Ada, do you think you could make me a cup of tea with lemon and bring it to my room?” Mom asked, her voice weak, just above a whisper.

Ada nodded and spun away, heading back down the hall toward the kitchen, her shoes clicking on the wood floor.

I checked my phone. No message from Dad. “Should I call Dad?” I asked. “See if anything has happened?”

But Mom was already halfway up the stairs. She didn’t hear me.

I froze with my eyes on the stairway. I knew that Mom would have to pass Marissa’s room to get to her bedroom. I hoped Marissa’s door was closed. I hoped Mom wouldn’t have to look into that silent, empty room.

Marissa, where are you?

Later, Robby was desperate to see Nikki.

“But I need the car to buy groceries,” I said. “The fridge is completely empty.”

“Can you drop me off?”

“Someone should stay with Mom,” I said. “She really isn’t doing well. Especially since Dad hasn’t called.”

“Mom is asleep,” he said. “I peeked in on her a few minutes ago. Besides, Ada is here. I won’t stay long, Harmony. Just drop me off at Nikki’s, okay? You can pick me up on your way home from the grocery store.”

Something about how desperate Robby was made me smile. True love. And for a moment, I had this sad feeling, realizing that I didn’t have anyone I cared about as much as Robby cared about Nikki.

We climbed into Marissa’s car. I sighed. The car smelled like Marissa. She loved this little car. . . .

I cruised through North Hills, our neighborhood, and turned onto Park Drive, which leads to Nikki’s house near the high school. It was a warm, cloudy day, kind of damp, the air heavy, and droplets of drizzle dotted the windshield.

Robby cranked the radio up high and tapped his hands on the dashboard in time to the beat of some pop song. He’s not into that music. I guessed he just put the radio on so we wouldn’t have to talk about Marissa.

That was perfectly fine with me. I didn’t feel like talking, either.

Nikki’s family has a nice house on Kraft Avenue, a three-story brick home with a wide front lawn, and a tall evergreen hedge along the street. Robby clicked off the radio as I pulled into the paving stone driveway. He turned the rearview mirror to him and checked out his hair.

“You look stunning,” I said sarcastically.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

“How about thanks for driving you?”

“Thanks. I know it was a huge favor. I’ll try to repay you someday.” He can be sarcastic, too.

I stopped beside the front walk. He shoved open the door and leaped out of the car. He nearly tripped over one of the two round, white-painted stones that bordered the walk.

I shifted into reverse to back down the driveway. But I kept my foot on the brake and watched as the front door swung open before Robby reached the stoop.

Mrs. Parker, Nikki’s mom, stepped into the doorway. She was dressed in tennis whites, a long-sleeved V-neck top and a short pleated skirt, and she had her platinum hair pulled back in a single braid beneath a white baseball cap.

“Hey, Mrs. Parker. I’m back. I came to see Nikki,” Robby said, sounding a little breathless.

The passenger window was down, and I could hear every word.

Nikki’s mom held on to the front door. “Oh, I’m sorry, Robby,” she said. “You should have called. Nikki isn’t here.” She had a hoarse, scratchy voice. Robby told me she smokes a lot.

“But I did call,” Robby protested. His words came out almost in a whine. He had his back turned to me, but I could imagine the disappointment on his face.

“It was a last-minute thing,” Mrs. Parker said, still gripping the edge of the door.

“I . . . don’t understand,” Robby said. “What do you mean?”

She adjusted the cap over her hair. “Nikki went on a camping trip. With some other girls.”

Robby scratched his hair. “Nikki? Camping? But she didn’t tell me.”

“Like I said, it was a last-minute thing.”

Robby stood staring at her without moving. It was kind of an awkward moment. Like he didn’t know what to say, and she just leaned there with the door half open.

“Oh. Nikki said to tell you not to call her.” Mrs. Parker broke the silence.

“She what?” Robby turned, and I could see the alarm on his face.

“She said the phones don’t work in the woods. No cell towers, I guess.”

“Oh. Okay,” Robby said softly. “Well . . .”

“She knew you’d be worried,” Mrs. Parker added. “That why she said to tell you not to call.”

Another long silence.

“When will she be home?” Robby asked.

Mrs. Parker shrugged. “Probably in two or three days. Depends on the weather, I guess.” Raindrops began to patter the car windshield. “Sorry you came all the way over,” she said.

“No problem,” Robby replied. “My sister drove me.” He motioned to the car.

Mrs. Parker waved at me. Then she nodded good-bye to Robby and closed the front door.

The rain was coming down pretty hard, but Robby didn’t run back to the car. He sort of ambled, head down, hands in his jeans pockets. He slumped into the car, his face scrunched up, thinking hard.

“Roll up the window,” I said. “It’s raining hard. Or didn’t you notice?”

“Nikki is not an outdoors person,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or to himself. “She hates the idea of camping. This is weird.”

“Well . . . she’s unpredictable,” I said. “You have to admit she’s unpredictable—bit of a wild card.”

I backed down the drive and turned toward the Division Street Mall. “It’s not your day, Robby,” I said. “And now you’ll have to come grocery shopping with me.”

He groaned.

“It’s a very short list,” I said. “We can split it up and it’ll take half the time.”

He groaned again. He pulled his phone from his pocket.

“What are you doing?” I asked, pausing at a stop sign.

“Trying Nikki.” He punched her number. One ring . . . two rings . . .

His phone was set loud. Even with it pressed tightly to his ear, I could hear clearly.

To his surprise, she answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Nikki. It’s me,” he said. “Where are you?”

I could hear her laugh. “Why do you keep asking me that? I told you before. I’m home.”