Fear itself: a novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

phobic community was the last place you wanted to start a panic. And her theory—that somebody was going around the country murdering phobics and trying to make it look like suicide—did sound a little paranoid, if not downright fantastic, not just to the authorities she’d contacted, but to her own ears as well. The letter she’d sent Pender was an umpteenth draft, and the only way she’d managed to get that one off was to seal the envelope and drop it into the corner mailbox without reading it first.
    But what had seemed like caution this morning felt more like denial this evening. Dorie took a here-goes-nothing breath and let ’er rip. She told him about the deaths of Carl, Mara, and Kim, about her correspondence with the Las Vegas, Fresno, and Chicago police, about the letter to Pender—she laid it all out, and when she had finished, the silence on the other end of the line was so complete she thought at first the connection had been broken.
    “Hello? Hello, are you still there?”
    “Yes, yes—just trying to find my Valium.”
    “Hey, take it easy on the meds,” Dorie cautioned him. “I can’t afford to lose any more friends.”
    “I’m more worried about you. If your suspicions are accurate—and I’m not at all sure they are, despite my now shattered nerves and pounding heart—you’re in more danger than I am, a woman alone and all that.”
    “I think we’re all at risk here,” replied Dorie. “In fact, I’m thinking about posting this on the chat room.”
    “No!” The response was unhesitating. “There are a lot of unstable personalities who visit that chat room. Something like this might drive some of them over the edge. Panic attacks, agoraphobia, maybe even suicide.”
    “Then what—”
    “First of all, calm down. I’m not without resources myself. I’ll make a few calls, contact a few people. I’ll let you know what I find out, you let me know what you find out. And in the meantime, let’s keep this between us—we don’t want to throw the whole community into a panic.”
    “You think so?” said Dorie doubtfully.
    “I know so. Look, I have to go now—sounds like Missy just woke up.”
    “Say hi to her for me—and for God’s sake, be careful.”
    “You too. Good night, Dorito.”
    “Good night, Simon.”

7

    Monday had been a lonely day for Missy. Simon had given Tasha, her attendant, the week off, then spent all morning in the locked basement. And after lunch, instead of taking her to the park as he’d promised, he’d installed her in her bedroom with her favorite Audrey Hepburn videos (Charade, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Wait Until Dark), a snack tray, and strict instructions not to leave the room unless she had to use the toilet.
    Then he was kind of distant all through dinner and hardly paid any attention to her. It was a good dinner, though: hamburgs, Tater Tots, applesauce, and Little Debbie snack cakes for dessert—she gobbled down three before he even noticed, and he didn’t make her eat any green veggies. Plus Simon cooked it for her himself, which made it extra good.
    After dinner Simon sent Missy back upstairs, then went down into the basement, and didn’t come back up until halfway through The Original Ten O’Clock News. Missy never missed The Original Ten O’Clock News —she had a major crush on Dennis Richmond, the handsome black anchorman. Once Simon took her to the telethon and she met him in person and gave him a dollar for those poor children in their wheelchairs.
    But even after Simon came up from the basement, he didn’t pay any attention to Missy—just went into his room and closed the door. Missy kept expecting him to come kiss her good night, but he didn’t. She fell asleep with the light and the TV on but woke up in the dark with the TV off—she’d been awakened by the ringing of the telephone. From across the hall she heard Simon talking. She got out of bed and knocked on the door of the master suite. No answer—she opened it anyway,