The Wrong Number

  What was Mr. Farberson doing now? she wondered. There hadn’t been a sound from him for a long time.

  “I can’t stand it,” whispered Jade suddenly. “I’m going to see if I can get a peek. Maybe it isn’t even Mr. Farberson down there.”

  Before Deena could protest, Jade slipped out into the hall. A few moments later she came back, her face looking very worried in the dim light. “He’s on the couch with his head back,” she reported. “He’s snoring.”

  Deena took a deep breath. “Maybe we ought to try to sneak past him,” she said. “What do you think?”

  Jade nodded. Both girls took big gulps of air, then began to tiptoe down the hall toward the stairway. The wooden floor was very old, and each step caused a creaking that sounded as loud as an ambulance siren to Deena.

  They reached the head of the stairs. From down below Deena could hear the muted sounds of Mr. Farberson’s snores.

  She started down the stairs, Jade right behind her. Now she could see the top of Mr. Farberson’s head propped against the back of the sofa.

  She took another step.

  And the snoring stopped.

  Mr. Farberson grunted, then sat up and stretched. He yawned loudly and then leaned back again.

  Deena and Jade froze. Then, still as quietly as possible, they turned around and went back up the stairs and down the hall. By the time they got to Mr. Farberson’s office Deena’s hands were shaking.

  She backed into the office, followed by Jade.

  And collided with the metal wastebasket.

  The wastebasket fell with a clatter. Almost immediately Mr. Farberson growled from downstairs. “What the devil?” he said.

  Deena and Jade studied each other with wide, frightened eyes. Quickly Jade turned the wastebasket right side up. “In the closet!” she hissed to Deena.

  Now Deena could hear Mr. Farberson’s footsteps climbing the stairs. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, but his steps sounded heavy, and she remembered how big he was.

  She slipped into the closet, Jade right behind her. They got as far back in as they could, behind some coats and shirts.

  The footsteps came closer; then there was a click, and a sliver of light appeared under the closet door.

  “Hello?” mumbled Mr. Farberson. “Is someone here?”

  They heard him walk around the office, muttering to himself. Then his footsteps retreated, and they could hear him walking down the hall to check the other room.

  He moved around a bit more, and the girls heard a heavy creaking as he settled himself at his desk. For a moment there was no sound, then a bellow broke the silence. “Hey!” Mr. Farberson said out loud. “How’d these drops of water get all over everything?”

  Then suddenly a chair scraped back, and heavy footsteps crossed the room.

  The closet door swung open.

  Deena blinked against the light, unable to see anything, but then she saw Mr. Farberson, his angry face staring directly at her. His expression changed slowly—the anger faded and was replaced by a cruel, mocking smile.

  “Well, well, girls,” he said. “Just can’t stay away, can you?”

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  Deena was so terrified she couldn’t move or think. And then Jade let out an earsplitting scream.

  Mr. Farberson stepped back in surprise, and Jade rushed out of the closet, pushing past him. She sprinted across the room, but he was faster and blocked the door with his body.

  Deena peeked out of the closet to see Jade standing behind Mr. Farberson’s desk, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with excitement and fear.

  “Let us go!” Jade said. “We know everything about you!”

  “I doubt that,” he said, not seeming worried at all. He crossed his arms and continued to lean against the door frame.

  “We know you’re a liar!” Jade went on. “We know you murdered your wife!”

  Farberson’s eyes narrowed, but then his face relaxed again. “You shouldn’t make nasty accusations like that,” he said. “Especially not when I just caught you breaking into my house—for the second time!”

  “I warn you,” Jade went on. “You’d better let us go, or—”

  “Or what?” Mr. Farberson said nastily.

  Deena helplessly continued to watch, admiring her friend for standing up to Mr. Farberson, but she could see Jade had run out of threats. Quick as a cat, Mr. Farberson grabbed Jade by the wrist.

  “Let me go!” she screamed. She picked up an ashtray with her free hand and swung it at Mr. Farberson, but it slipped harmlessly from her fingers and shattered to the floor.

  Mr. Farberson grabbed her other wrist, and she screamed again. “So you like to play rough, do you?” he said.

  Frantically Deena searched for anything or any way to help her friend. “Let her go!” she yelled. She threw her flashlight at Mr. Farberson, catching him on the shoulder, but he only grunted and held on more tightly to Jade.

  Jade tried to scratch and bite Mr. Farberson, but he easily held her off. Suddenly tiring of her, he shook her. “All right!” he said. “Enough playing around! It’s time to teach you girls a lesson!” He slammed Jade hard against the desk. She gasped, then screamed again. “Run, Deena! Get help!”

  Deena didn’t want to leave Jade, but there was no way she could fight Mr. Farberson. She fled from the room and down the stairs. Behind her she could hear Jade and Mr. Farberson continuing to struggle.

  At the foot of the stairs she paused a moment, deciding. Where could she go for help? The nearby houses all seemed to be deserted.

  Then her eye fell on the phone. Better to call the cops from here, she thought. She picked up the phone, started to dial . . . and got nothing but dead air. Too late, she remembered that the phone was out.

  This had all started with a phone call, she thought. And it might end—because she couldn’t make one!

  At a heavy footstep she turned to find Mr. Farberson standing right behind her. “Phoning for pizza?” he asked.

  Deena stared at him, her heart pounding in her throat.

  “Where’s Jade?” she asked, backing away.

  “Taking a little nap, you might say,” said Mr. Farberson. “And I’m sure she’d just love for you to keep her company.”

  Deena backed up slowly, then on an impulse spun around and sprinted toward the kitchen. But Mr. Farberson was right behind her. Desperately she reached for something—anything—to use as a weapon. Her hand closed on the handle of an iron frying pan, and she gripped it tightly.

  Mr. Farberson, his big body in silhouette because of the light behind him, lumbered slowly toward her, his hands outstretched like those of a movie monster.

  This is a nightmare, Deena thought. This can’t be happening to me!

  But she wasn’t dreaming, and Mr. Farberson proved it the next instant when he lunged at her. With a little shriek she swung the pan as hard as she could and felt it connect. He let out a bellow of rage and pain, then grabbed the other end of the pan and began to twist. The rough metal cut her fingers, and she had to let go.

  Mr. Farberson reached out, grasped her shoulders, and picked her up as easily as if she’d been a doll.

  “You little idiot—you cut my hand with that frying pan!” he said. “Who would have thought two girls could cause me so much trouble?”

  Deena struggled, but it was no use. She had started to cry and tried to stop but couldn’t. He carried her into the living room and set her down at the bottom of the stairs, closing his hand on her arm like a vise. “Come on!” he said. “I don’t care if I break your arm.”

  He started up the stairs, half leading and half dragging her. She had to walk fast to keep her arm from being pulled out of its socket.

  In the hall upstairs he stopped in front of the first door she and Jade had opened—the one to the bedroom. He reached in his pocket, searching for a key. The door wasn’t locked before, Deena remembered. Was Jade in there? She didn’t have time to think about it because just for a moment he l
et her go while he unlocked the door.

  Deena knew this was her last chance.

  She began to run down the hall, but Mr. Farberson was fast for such a big man, and he tackled her, throwing her to the floor on her back. She fought as hard as she could, struggling desperately. She heard a ripping noise as Mr. Farberson tore her poncho up the middle and pulled it down so her arms were trapped at her sides.

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  I’m totally trapped, Deena thought. What is he going to do to me now?

  “Hey—what’s this?” he said. The torn poncho revealed the letter in her waistband. He snatched it out, and his face grew even angrier. “So!” he said. “This is what you were after!”

  Quickly he pulled Deena to her feet and pushed her into the bedroom. Then he followed her in, slammed the door, and stood still for a moment, breathing hard.

  Deena had fallen against one of the bureaus. She pulled herself to a sitting position and looked around. Jade was lying crumpled at the foot of the bed. “Jade!” she cried in horror. The still form didn’t move. “Jade!” This time Deena screamed it. “You’ve killed my friend!” she yelled at Mr. Farberson. She was so frightened and angry she could hardly breathe.

  “She’s just knocked out,” he said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s playing possum. I didn’t hit her hard enough to kill her—not yet.”

  On the bed Jade moaned. Deena struggled with the poncho and finally twisted free of it. Then she went to her friend. A nasty bruise was forming on Jade’s forehead, and she was very pale, but after a moment her eyes fluttered open. “Deena?” she said.

  “Jade!” cried Deena. “Jade, are you all right?”

  “My head hurts,” said Jade. “What’s happening—oh!” she gasped as she saw Mr. Farberson still standing in front of the door. He was holding the letter in one hand, tapping it against the other, blood dripping from the cut where Deena had hit him.

  “He found our proof,” said Deena, still crying. “I’m sorry, Jade.”

  “What I found was a letter that belongs to me,” said Mr. Farberson. “Something you girls were trying to steal. I’ve half a mind to turn you girls over to the police.”

  For a moment Deena felt a surge of hope. Maybe he wasn’t going to do anything terrible to them. Maybe he would just turn them over to the police. At least then they’d be safe.

  “Tell me what you think you know, girls,” Farberson said.

  “We don’t know anything,” Deena said quickly.

  “Oh, is that so?” Farberson said, his eyes narrowing. “Hey—I’m not playing games here. Tell me what you think you know.” He took a step toward them. “I don’t mind hurting you to get the answer!”

  “You know already,” said Deena, angry again. She felt that Mr. Farberson was playing with them the way a cat plays with a mouse. “You murdered your wife for her money—and tried to make it look like a burglary!”

  For a moment Mr. Farberson didn’t speak, then he straightened, as if he’d made a decision. “Well, you girls are real smart,” he said. “Too smart for your own good. I’ve got to take care of myself now.”

  “What do you mean?” whispered Jade.

  “I mean maybe you were right—about everything,” he said. “Maybe I killed Edna.”

  Deena felt cold all over. He wouldn’t be confessing if he was going to let her and Jade go. The only thing she could think to do was keep him talking, buy time somehow.

  “You killed her and convinced the police it was Chuck?” she asked.

  A strange smile formed on Farberson’s face. “When you three kids showed up that night it was like pennies from heaven. You bought me even more time—time to do what I had to and get away. I’m grateful to you, if you want to know.”

  “You can still get away,” Deena said quickly. “Jade and I won’t say anything to anyone till after your plane leaves tomorrow.”

  “Nice try,” said Farberson. “I’ve thought about it—thought about just leaving you locked up here till it’s time to go. But you know too much. I can’t take a chance on your stopping me.”

  “Wait,” said Deena. “What about—”

  It was too late. Mr. Farberson had backed out the door. “Don’t go away now,” he said, grinning nastily.

  He slammed the door, and Deena heard the key turning in the lock. His footsteps faded down the hall.

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  Deena ran to the door and tried to open it, just in case, but the knob wouldn’t turn. “Come on,” she said to Jade. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

  “But how?” said Jade.

  “That way.” Deena pointed to the window. “Remember when I tried to shut the window before? And a branch was in the way? That big old tree is really close to the house—maybe only a couple of feet away.”

  “Are you saying we should climb down?” asked Jade.

  “We don’t have a choice! Jade, he’s going to kill us!” She lifted the window latch and began to push, but the window was stuck.

  “Hurry, Deena,” said Jade. “He’s coming back!”

  Now Deena could hear Mr. Farberson’s footsteps on the stairs, too.

  “Why did I ever want to shut this window?” Deena moaned. She pushed as hard as she could, but nothing happened.

  “We’ve got to slow him down!” said Jade breathlessly. “Come help me!” Deena watched as Jade pushed against a heavy chest of drawers. She ran to help her friend. With both girls pushing as hard as they could the heavy object began to move slowly across the floor.

  Outside the door the sound of Mr. Farberson’s approaching footsteps echoed.

  “Hurry!” said Jade again.

  The chest moved inch by inch—and stopped against the door just as Mr. Farberson’s key slid into the lock.

  Deena darted back to work on the window. There was a thumping sound as Mr. Farberson tried to open the door and found the bureau blocking his way.

  Deena heard him curse loudly. Then there was a tremendous thud as Mr. Farberson threw himself against the door. The chest moved an inch or two. The door was open far enough now for Mr. Farberson to stick his arm through. “You can’t keep me out!” he said from the other side of the door. And he began to laugh—a chilling laugh!

  With renewed desperation both girls pushed on the window again, and this time it sprang open. Deena looked out. Four feet below the window was a limb thick enough to hold both girls. The branches near the window were too thin to offer much of a handhold. The tree was still slippery with water.

  The bureau gave a sudden lurch. If Mr. Farberson had been any smaller, he could have burst into the room at that moment.

  “Move, Deena!” cried Jade, her voice filled with terror. Deena took a deep breath and climbed onto the windowsill. She turned around and, gripping the sill with her fingers, swung out and down. With relief she felt her feet touch the limb below, and she let go of the windowsill, sagging against the trunk. Gratefully she wrapped one arm around the rough bark and held the other out to Jade.

  Seconds after Jade joined Deena in the tree Mr. Farberson appeared in the window. “You won’t get away!” he snarled, and he immediately disappeared.

  “He’s coming outside!” Jade whispered. “Quick, climb down!”

  Deena looked down and realized they were much higher up than she had thought.

  The next branch was just beyond her reach. Why didn’t I ever learn gymnastics? she asked herself.

  “I can’t!” she told Jade. “It’s too slippery and too far.”

  “I’m taller,” said Jade. “I’ll try. Then if—oh!” Her eyes grew wide with a new fear. In the light from the kitchen window both girls could now see Mr. Farberson walking toward the tree. He was holding something long and bulky, and when he got closer Deena realized that it was a chain saw!

  “Oh, no,” moaned Jade. “I don’t believe it!”

  “He can’t use a chain saw at night!” Deena said in disbelief. “He’ll wake everyone on Fear Street. Is he c
razy?”

  “Yes,” Jade whispered. “Yes, he is. I mean, he’s gone over the edge. Just look at his eyes.”

  Deena squinted down and saw what Jade meant. Mr. Farberson’s face still looked mean and angry. But now there was something else there—a wildness that revealed he was out of control. The whites of his eyes were huge in the dim light. Once again he let out a terrifying laugh. Deena shivered. Somehow this new Mr. Farberson was even scarier than the man who’d been threatening them.

  He started to rev up the saw.

  Just before the deafening roar blotted out all other sound Deena thought she heard a high-pitched wail.

  The tree began to vibrate as Mr. Farberson cut into it with the power saw. Deena and Jade held on to the trunk as tightly as they could to keep from being shaken off—and into the whirling blades of the chain saw.

  “He’ll saw right through it in no time!” Deena cried, almost slipping off the branch.

  “We’re going to fall!” Jade said, looking down.

  Down below Farberson pulled back the saw, revved it up again, and, glaring up at the girls, returned the blade to the tree.

  The saw made a deafening grinding sound as it ate deeper into the tree. Sawdust and wood chips flew all around.

  Deena heard a cracking sound. “We’re going down!” she cried.

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  Suddenly Jade grabbed Deena’s arm. “Look!” She mouthed the word. Deena turned her head.

  There, in the distance, coming from the direction of the Mill Road, was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen: the flashing red lights of police cars!

  Another cracking sound. The tree began to tilt.

  Help was on the way, but would it arrive in time?

  In the next instant everything seemed to happen at once.

  The tree tilted even farther. Deena closed her eyes and held tightly to the trunk, expecting each moment to be her last.

  Then suddenly the yard filled with an eerie, flashing glow as police cars pulled up to the house. A police officer ran across the lawn, his gun out in front of him. With relief, Deena recognized Detective Frazier.