She jammed it into his hand. "Here. Read this-the latest one." Her eyes locked onto his, revealing her fear.

Steve was surprised by her fear. Then, frowning, he opened the card. He read it aloud: "Roses are black, Violets are gray.

On Valentine's Day, You'll start to decay."

Steve stared at the handwritten message for a long while. "Do you recognize the handwriting?"

Josie shook her head. She took the card from him and folded it between her hands. "Maybe we shouldn't go out," she said softly.

"It's a stupid joke," Steve replied, frowning. "It's just dumb. We shouldn't let it spoil the whole night." He took her hand, surprised to find it ice-cold. "Come on, Josie. I told Dave Metcalf and Cory Brooks and some other kids we'd meet them at the ice-skating rink."

Josie pulled her hand from his. "I really don't think we should go out tonight," she insisted. "The stupid valentines are probably a joke, but what if they're not? What if someone is really crazy enough to . . ." Her voice trailed off. She tossed the card down on the couch. "Let's rent a video and stay here."

"But we had such a great time the other night," Steve protested.

He started to say more, but the intercom on the wall clicked on.

They heard crackling sounds, then someone breathing.

Then Rachel's voice, whispery, soft, and teasing. "Someone hates you, Josie," Rachel said. "Someone really hates you."

Josie uttered an exasperated cry. She grabbed the sleeve of Steve's sweater. "Let's get out of here!" she cried and started to pull him toward the front door.

"Somebody hates you, Josie," Rachel repeated over the intercom in a whispery, sing-song voice. "Somebody hates you."

Steve grabbed his jacket. "We're going ice-skating?"

"I don't care where we go," Josie replied, pulling her jacket from the front closet. "I just have to get out of here! Rachel gives me the creeps lately!"

Tossing her jacket over her shoulder, she started to pull open the front door. She turned to see Steve hanging back.

She followed his glance. He was staring at the folded-up valentine on the couch cushion.

"Josie, somebody hates you a lot!" Rachel's voice came over the intercom.

"Steve, I have to get out of here!" Josie cried. "I can't take this. I really can't." She motioned for him to hurry.

As Steve made his way to the door, a new voice came on the small speaker on the wall. It was Erica's, and she sounded upset. "Josie, are you going out? The nurse had to leave early and I'm here alone."

"Yes, I am going out. See you later!" Josie called impatiently into the box.

"But how can you?" Erica demanded unhappily.

"What difference is it to you? You don't have a date tonight," Josie said cruelly. Then she added, "I'll take care of Rachel tomorrow. Promise."

"I don't believe you," Erica said angrily, her voice making the small speaker vibrate. "Listen, Josie-"

"Bye, I'm gone," Josie said brusquely and stepped out the front door. Steve followed, a troubled expression on his face, and pulled the front door shut behind him.

It was a cold, clear night. Most of the snow had melted. Small patches stood up on the front lawn like icebergs in a dark ocean.

The bare trees were still as if frozen in place. A pale half moon was high in the charcoal sky. Josie gazed up but couldn't see any stars. Somewhere down the block a dog howled mournfully.

Their sneakers squished on the wet ground as they made their way down the lawn to Steve's car at the curb. Holding on to Steve's arm, Josie glanced at Melissa's house across the street. All the lights were on. She could see someone's shadow behind the drawn shade in an upstairs room.

At the curb she pulled open the car door, started to lower herself to the seat, then stopped. "Steve, look," she said, motioning back to the driveway.

Steve turned to follow her gaze.

"It's Luke," Josie said, lowering her voice to a whisper.

Luke's car was still in the driveway up near the house. In the yellow light from the porch, Josie could see Luke sitting behind the wheel. He seemed to be staring straight ahead, not moving.

"What's his problem?" Steve asked, leaning against the car door as he stared at Luke's car.

"I don't know," Josie replied, bewildered. "Why is he just sitting there?"

"Think I should go talk to him or something?" Steve suggested.

Josie shook her head. "No. I don't know. I mean, he's okay, I think. Maybe he just wants to be alone or something."

"Weird," Steve said, shaking his head. He lowered himself into the car.

As they drove down Fear Street, heading toward town, Josie was surprised to find herself becoming more and more frightened.

She tried to force them away, but the upsetting images of the past week invaded her mind. Muggy dead. The dark puddle of blood. Rachel's giggling response. Rachel so gleeful as she announced that somebody hated Josie. The valentines. The horrible valentines with their scrawled, ugly threats.

She stared out into the passing night, dark yards and houses whirring by, and felt the waves of fear roll over her body. "Steve," she said softly, touching his arm as if making sure he was real and not just another image. "Steve, maybe we should turn back."

"You'll be okay," he said soothingly. "Really."

"But those valentines. They all said I'd die today."

"A stupid joke, Josie," he replied calmly. "A horrible, stupid joke. Don't worry."

"But I am worried," Josie admitted in a trembling voice. "I'm very worried. . . ."

Chapter 14.

ERICA IS WORRIED.

Erica squinted through the darkness to the clock on her bedroom wall: 2:03.

She pulled herself up in bed and lowered her feet to the floor.

Staring at the clock, she stretched and listened to the silence.

The house was dark and still.

I'm the only one awake, Erica told herself unhappily.

Her father was still away on his business trip. Her mother had returned from a party at the neighbors' house at about eleven-thirty and had gone right to bed.

Mom is sleeping peacefully, Erica thought. She's such a sound sleeper, she doesn't know. She doesn't know that it's after two in the morning and Josie isn't home.

I'm the only one who's awake.

With a groan, she stood up and untwisted her nightshirt. Then she made her way across the dark room to her desk, the floorboards creaking under the thin carpet.

She clicked on the desk lamp, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the bright white light. Leaning on the edge of the desk, she reached for the phone directory.

She dropped the directory on the desk, then flipped quickly through the B's until she found Barron. Steve's phone number had been underlined in red ink, probably by Josie.

Keeping her finger on the number, Erica glanced up at the clock. She sighed and punched Steve's number, leaning against the old oak desk as she waited for the ring.

"Hello?" Steve answered halfway through the third ring, his voice hoarse with sleep.

"Steve?" Erica whispered.

"Uh-huh. Who's this?"

Erica started to reply, then heard a loud clunk.

"Sorry," Steve said after a few seconds. "Dropped the phone."

"Were you asleep? It's Erica."

"Huh? Erica?" Steve said the name as if he'd never heard it before. "Yeah. I was asleep. I . . . uh . . ."

"Steve, I'm so worried," Erica told him, her voice revealing her fear. "Josie isn't home."

The line was silent for a long moment. "Not home?" Steve finally replied, sounding alert. "What time is it?"

"It's after two," Erica told him.

"It is?" He sounded very surprised. "But Josie should've been home hours ago."

"I don't understand," Erica said, starting to sound more than a little frantic. "Wasn't she with you? Didn't you bring her home?"

"We had a fight," Steve replied, speaking rapidly in a low, steady voice.

"You what?"

"We had a stupid argument," Steve repeated. "It was really dumb. About skates or something. I don't even remember what started it."

"And what happened?" Erica asked, lowering herself into her desk chair. Her hand gripped the receiver so tightly, it began to ache.

"Well, Josie left," he told her reluctantly.

"By herself?" Erica cried in alarm.

"No, huh-uh," Steve answered quickly, sounding very defensive. "She left with a whole bunch of kids."

He cleared his throat loudly, then continued. "We were all at the rink together. After we had that dumb argument, Josie left with them. With the others." He cleared his throat again. "But-but she should have been home hours ago, Erica."

"I know," Erica said unhappily.

"Do you think-?" Steve started.

"Oh. Wait!" Erica interrupted. "That's the front doorbell. That must be Josie. Bye."

Erica hung up the receiver without waiting for Steve's reply. Then she hurriedly padded down the front stairs in the darkness, her bare feet making the stairway groan and creak.

Eagerly, she turned the lock and, using both hands, pulled open the front door.

"Josie?" she cried.

Chapter 15.

TERRIBLE TROUBLE.

Erica uttered a silent gasp.

She blinked, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the harsh yellow porch light.