The Second Evil by R.L. Stine Page B

say when we get there?” Corky asked. “We can’t just barge in and say, ‘Jon, what were you and Sarah Beth Plummer doing in the cemetery the other night?’”
    â€œWhy not?” Debra said. She pulled open the back door to her car and dumped the candles and book onthe seat. “That’s exactly what we’ll ask.” She tossed back her hood and brushed her sleek short hair with one hand. “Come on, Corky. Get in.”
    Corky hesitated for a long moment, then pulled open the passenger door and climbed in. Debra slid into the driver’s seat and rested her hands on top of the steering wheel.
    The glow of the streetlight fell over Debra’s pale, slender hand.
    And Corky thought of Chip.
    Of Chip’s hand. Lying forlornly beside the power saw.
    She saw the hand, severed neatly at the wrist. And then the puddles of dark blood.
    And then Chip lying facedown in his own blood.
    â€œCorky, what’s the matter?” Debra cried, seeing Corky’s horror-filled expression.
    Corky shut her eyes tight, erasing the picture. “Let’s go see Jon Daly,” Corky said, her voice a dry whisper.
    The Dalys lived in the wealthy section of Shadyside known as North Hills, a few blocks from the high school. Debra pulled up the driveway to the house, a sprawling redwood ranch-style house behind a neatly trimmed front lawn.
    At the end of the drive, the garage door was open. A Volvo station wagon was parked inside. Two bikes hung on the wall. Corky wondered if one of them had belonged to Jennifer.
    So much death, she thought, climbing out of the car. The evil has claimed so many victims.
    She and Debra walked side by side up the flagstone walk to the front door. Debra raised her finger to the doorbell, then hesitated.
    â€œGo ahead,” Corky urged. “We’re here. We might as well talk to Jon.”
    Debra rang. They heard voices inside the house, then approaching footsteps.
    The porch light went on. The front door was pulled open. Mrs. Daly’s head appeared in a rectangle of yellow light, her expression quickly turning to surprise. “Why, hello, girls.”
    Her faded blond hair was wrapped in a red bandanna. Her features seemed to melt together in the harsh light.
    â€œHi, Mrs. Daly,” Corky said, clearing her throat. “Remember me? I’m Bobbi’s sister?”
    â€œOf course,” Mrs. Daly replied, eyeing Debra.
    â€œWe came to see Jon,” Corky said.
    Mrs. Daly’s mouth dropped open.
    â€œWho is it?” Mr. Daly’s voice floated out from the living room.
    â€œDo you have news about Jon?” Mrs. Daly asked Corky, ignoring her husband’s question.
    â€œHuh?” Corky couldn’t hide her confusion. “News?”
    â€œWho is it?” Mr. Daly said again as he appeared behind his wife. He was tall and balding. He had on a Chicago Cubs T-shirt and straight-leg corduroys. His forehead was furrowed.
    The house smelled of stale cigarette smoke.
    â€œThey have news about Jon,” Mrs. Daly told her husband. She gripped his hand.
    â€œNo,” Corky corrected. “We came to
see
Jon.”
    â€œWe need to talk to him,” Debra added, self-consciously adjusting her cape.
    â€œOh.” Mrs. Daly’s face fell. The light faded from her eyes.
    â€œJon isn’t here,” Mr. Daly said sternly.
    â€œWe’re worried sick about him,” Mrs. Daly added, gripping her husband’s hand. “It’s been two days. Two days. We called the police.”
    â€œHuh? The police?” Corky glanced at Debra, who looked as startled as she did.
    Mr. Daly nodded sadly. “Yes. Jon disappeared two days ago. We don’t know
what
happened to him.”

Chapter 17
Fear

    A fter dinner the next night, Corky waited for Debra at Alma’s, the small coffee shop where she and Chip had talked to Sarah Beth Plummer. The restaurant was bustling now, the booths and long counter filled with