Switched by R.L. Stine Page B

away from Kent’s headless body. I gazed at the window.
    â€œOh!” I cried out when I saw the two faces on the other side of the glass. The two grim faces of the gray-suited police officers.
    They stared in at me. Stared at the headless corpse on the bloodied den floor. Stared at the kitchen knife still clutched tightly in my hand.

chapter

14
    T he two faces vanished from the window.
    I let the knife fall from my hand. It clattered onto the floor, landing beside Kent’s outstretched arm.
    They saw me, I realized.
    They saw me standing over Kent, holding the knife.
    As I backed out of the den, my entire body trembling, I heard the front door click open.
    â€œDon’t move!” one of them shouted.
    â€œNicole. Stay right there.”
    They knew my name. They knew it was me. Not Lucy.
    â€œBut Lucy murdered them all!” I wanted to shout. “You don’t want me! You want Lucy!”
    But I was too terrified to make a sound.
    â€œDon’t move.” The police officer repeated his instruction.
    I turned and bolted to the back door.
    I reached the kitchen in time to see the other officer step into the kitchen doorway. “Nicole—don’t run away,” he said softly. He lowered both hands to his sides. Did he have a gun? Was he about to raise it?
    â€œNicole—where are you?” His partner’s voice from the front.
    â€œNo!” I cried, spinning out of the kitchen. Into the narrow back hall. Down the basement stairs two at a time.
    I knew this house. I had spent many happy hours at Kent’s parties. I knew I could get away. If I was fast enough.
    Their shoes clambered heavily down the wooden stairs.
    But I was already across the basement. Through the narrow passageway that led to the furnace room.
    I heard a crash behind me. Heard one of them utter a shouted curse.
    He must have banged his knee or run into something, I figured.
    Breathing hard, I plunged into the old coal room. The floor still black and dust-covered from the days when coal was stored here to stoke the furnace.
    Up the old coal chute, my sneakers slipping and sliding. I knew the double wooden doors at the topwere never locked. With a great heave, I shoved open the doors with both hands.
    Cool night air rushed in at me.
    I scrabbled out. Scraped my knee on the doorframe. Ignoring the pain that shot up and down my leg, I took a deep breath and gazed around the dark backyard.
    Could I make it to my car in front on the street?
    Probably not. They’d catch me before I could get inside and start it up.
    I turned and began to run.
    I was fleeing across the backyard. Climbing over the fence at the back.
    Running. Running through dark backyards. Keeping low. Keeping hidden as much as possible.
    A trembling, frightened figure fleeing through the darkness.
    But where could I go? Where could I hide?
    I leaned my back against the wall and struggled to catch my breath.
    There was no one following me. I was sure of that. I would have heard them in these silent woods.
    I had run all the way to Fear Street. Run blindly, the world a blur, through backyards and alleys, across empty streets, past familiar houses that now seemed strange and unfriendly.
    The whole world appeared unfriendly to me now. Worse than that. Threatening.
    And so I didn’t even hesitate when I reached the Fear Street woods. I ignored the stories I had heardsince childhood, the horrifying legends of the street and these woods. Those stories held no fear for me now.
    What could be more frightening than my own life?
    I plunged into the tangle of trees and shrubs and twining undergrowth. Listening. Listening as I ran for the sounds of my pursuers. The two grim-faced men who wanted to capture me and bring me back—to arrest me for murders only my body committed.
    My body. And my friend Lucy.
    My best friend.
    Somehow I had found the wall. The Changing Wall. The ugly stone structure that had started my troubles.
    As it rose up before me