"Who's sending these cards?

Don't bother to wonder.

On Valentine's Day You'll be six feet under."

Steve stared at the rhyme, printed carefully in black ink. He narrowed his blue eyes thoughtfully. "Do you still think Jenkman's sending them?" he asked.

"Ever since I dumped him, he's been following me around, pestering me like some kind of sick psycho."

"These have to be jokes," Steve said, closing the card and handing it back to Josie. "Just stupid jokes."

Josie crumpled the card into a ball and shoved it into her nearly empty hot chocolate cup. "You think so?"

"Jenkman is weird, but he's not a murderer!" Steve declared. "It's just a stupid joke, Josie. You shouldn't take it seriously."

"I-I don't know how to take it," Josie stammered. "This is the third one. They're really starting to get me scared. What if he means it?"

"Call him up and tell him to stop it," Steve advised. "It's just his dumb way of getting back at you for not going out with him."

"He's impossible," Josie said. "He follows me home from school. He's always at my locker. He calls sometimes and-"

She stopped abruptly. Her mouth dropped open. She pointed over Steve's shoulder toward the ice. "Steve!"

Steve caught the alarm in her eyes. "What's the matter?" He scooted his chair back and turned around to follow her gaze.

"There's someone there," Josie told him, her voice revealing her fear. "Someone is watching us. From behind the food stand."

Steve stared hard. "I don't see anyone."

Josie jumped to her feet, knocking her chair over. It clattered noisily to the concrete floor. "There!"

"I see a shadow," Steve said, "but-"

"Is it Jenkman?" Josie asked.

"I don't know." Steve stood up too. He stepped around the table and grabbed Josie's arm. "Do you want to go?"

She nodded. "Yes, let's get out of here. Please!"

They returned their skates and hurried out the door.

As they stepped out into a cold, clear night, Steve pulled her close and kissed her. She leaned against the skating rink doorway and kissed him back. She raised her hands behind his head. His blond hair felt surprisingly soft. She held his head tightly, pulling him to her, forcing him to continue the kiss.

She realized she didn't want the kiss to end. She wanted to stay there like that forever. In the clean, cold wind. In the silent darkness. Alone with Steve.

She didn't want to think about who was spying on her inside the skating rink. She didn't want to think about the scary, threatening valentines.

Most of all she didn't want to go home.

A short while later she found herself saying good night to Steve in her driveway. The old house, bathed in an eerie yellow glow from the porch light, hovered in front of her, cold and uninviting.

Josie leaned across the front seat of the car for one last good night kiss. Then, sighing, she pushed open the car door and reluctantly headed up to the front porch. She waved to Steve, pulled the front door closed behind her, and stepped into the dark front hallway. She could see the twin headlights of Steve's car roll down the wall as he backed down the drive.

"Anyone awake?" Josie called in a half-whisper.

It wasn't that late, she knew. Around eleven o'clock.

She tip-toed past the intercom on the wall as if not wanting to awaken it. She could see a light on in the kitchen.

"Who's here?" she asked, making her way quickly toward the kitchen. "Erica? Are you up?"

She took a few steps into the kitchen and stopped. No one there.

Who left the light on? she wondered.

There were some bowls beside the sink. Someone must have had ice cream, Josie decided.

She took a few more steps. Stopped again.

There was something sticky on the bottom of her sneaker.

Had she stepped in gum or something?

She leaned down to examine her sneaker.

And saw what she had stepped in. A dark red puddle.

Cranberry juice? Had someone spilled cranberry juice? And not wiped it up?

No. There was too much of it.

Another puddle.

And another dark puddle, even larger.

Josie followed the trail of puddles with her eyes across the linoleum to the kitchen door, which led to the backyard.

Why was the door open?

Staring in horror at the figure lying in the doorway, Josie knew at once what the dark puddles were.

She raised her hands to her face and started to scream.

Chapter 10.

SOMEONE IS HAPPY.

Staring in horror at the blood-soaked figure sprawled on the floor beside the open kitchen door, Josie screamed.

She shut her eyes, but the hideous sight remained with her.

"Muggy!" she cried. "Oh, Muggy!"

Opening her eyes, she took a reluctant step toward the unmoving animal.

"Muggy. Muggy," she wailed.

The little terrier was on its back, its head twisted to the side, eyes wide in a blank, unseeing stare.

The wind battered against the glass storm door, startling Josie. She grabbed the Formica countertop for support as her entire body lurched in a tremor of horror.

Josie felt sick. She started to turn away, but something caught her eye.

What was that shiny thing in Muggy's stomach?

Pressing both hands over her mouth, she squinted at it. It took her a while to realize it was a letter opener. A silver letter opener. The letter opener from the desk in the den.

"Who did this?" she cried out loud, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

Her horror was rapidly turning to anger. "Who did this?"

How had it happened? Had someone come to the back door? Had Muggy come running to investigate?

Josie tried to picture it. Someone pulled open the storm door, came into the kitchen, and murdered the poor little dog with the letter opener from the den.

But who? Why?

"Muggy," Josie cried, shutting her eyes again, shutting them so tightly they hurt. "Oh, Muggy."

Josie suddenly realized she wasn't alone in the kitchen.

Opening her eyes, her hands still pressed against her face, she turned to find Rachel standing right behind her.

Rachel wore a long blue-flannel nightdress. Her hair was tied back and fell forward over one shoulder. She looked very pale in the fluorescent light of the kitchen.

Rachel's emerald eyes were aglow as she stared at Muggy's corpse, and Josie was horrified by the evil smile on her twin's face.

"Rachel!" Josie cried, turning to face her.

"There's the puppy," Rachel said brightly, her smile growing wider. Rachel pointed down to the gruesome sight. "There's the puppy."

Why is she so happy? Josie asked herself, suddenly frightened. Why does she think this is funny?

"There's the puppy," Rachel repeated in her singsong voice.

"Rachel, you shouldn't be down here," Josie scolded, still gripping the top of the counter.

"But there's the puppy," Rachel insisted, smiling, her green eyes shiny and excited.

Without warning, Erica appeared behind Rachel. "When did you get home?" she asked Josie. And then her eyes fell on the murdered dog. "Oh no!" Erica cried weakly. Her mouth dropped open in horror.

"There's the puppy," Rachel said, pointing.

Rachel's words seemed to break Erica out of her silent spell.

"Oh, no," she muttered. "Oh no, no, no, no." Then Erica's expression changed. She grabbed Rachel's shoulders, her features tight with concern. "Come away, Rachel. Come with me."

"But there's the puppy," Rachel protested.

"Don't get upset, dear," Erica told Rachel sternly. "Don't get upset. Come upstairs." She dragged the still-smiling Rachel out of the kitchen.

Josie, left alone, shut her eyes once again. Why was Rachel so happy? she asked herself, suddenly feeling exhausted and drained. Why was Rachel so happy?

And who came into my house and murdered my dog?

Chapter 11.

"SOMEBODY HATES YOU".

Melissa pushed back the curtains from her bedroom window and stared out into the night. The sky hovered low and purple, dotted with pale white stars. The trees in the front yard appeared to shiver from the cold.

Across the street the McClains' house was dark except for the yellow porch light. Melissa had been at her window a few minutes before, at a little after eleven. She had seen Steve's car pull up the drive. She had seen Josie get out of the car and walk slowly up to her house.

Josie's spending all her time with Steve these days, Melissa realized. And as little time as possible at home.