Free The First Horror by R. L. Stine Page B

and Cally’s new boss didn’t need her. “I can’t believe I’m missing my first day of work,” Cally said, shaking her head. “But I can’t go to town while things are all so— crazy.” “Are you sure you should go out, dear?” Cally’s mother asked timidly, squeezing her husband’s hand. “I have to!” Mr. Frasier insisted. “I have to find out what Mr. Lurie is going to do about our trouble!” “Mr. Lurie probably didn’t know the story of the house,” Kody said quietly. Despite Cally’s reluctance, Kody had told her parents the frightening story that Anthony had revealed. Both parents had reacted with disbelief. “It can’t be true,” their father had murmured, his face still as pale as a ghost. “Bodies buried— unmarked coffins. The heads—the three heads …” Mrs. Frasier had remained silent, chewing her bottom lip, her eyes narrowed. Now, as the morning light filtered through the kitchen window, Mr. Frasier muttered to himself, his lips moving rapidly, his eyes unfocused. “Mr. Lurie had to know the story. The horrible story,” he insisted. “He told me he’s been a real estate agent in Shadyside for more than
    thirty years. I’m going to give him a call right now.” He pulled out his wallet, searched through it, then pulled out the real estate agent’s business card. “Hmmm. That’s strange,” Cally’s father murmured, squinting at the card through his glasses. “What’s strange?” Cally demanded. “There’s no phone number on his card.” Mr. Frasier handed the card to Cally. “Can you find one?” Cally studied the card. In small, engraved letters, the card read:
    JASON LURIE REAL ESTATE 424 FEAR STREET
    Cally handed the card back to her father. “Just an address,” she said. Mr. Frasier climbed to his feet and walked over to the wall phone. Cally turned at the table to watch him. He punched in Information. “Could I have the phone number of the Jason Lurie Real Estate Agency?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen wall. “It’s on Fear Street.” A long pause. Then Cally saw surprise on her father’s face. “There’s no listing?” he asked into the receiver. “Are you sure?” A moment later he replaced the receiver and returned to the table, shaking his head. “I never heard of a real estate agent without a phone,” Mrs. Frasier said, staring into her tea cup. “I’m going over there right now,” Mr. Frasier declared, frowning. “I’m not going to spend another night in this house until I talk to him. Until I find out the truth about this house.” “And make him find Cubby too!” James insisted, pouting. Mr. Frasier patted James’s disheveled hair. “I don’t think Mr. Lurie can do that,” he said softly. “But we’ll find the puppy, James. I know we will.” “Can I come with you?” Cally asked. She realized she didn’t want to leave her father on his own. Mr. Frasier nodded. “Yes. Come with me. I can use the moral support.” “Hurry back,” Cally’s mother called after them. “Don’t leave us alone here too long, okay?”
    Cally took a deep breath as she let the fresh air caress her face. Then she climbed into the blue Taurus beside her father. The car crunched down the gravel drive. When they backed into the street, out from under the blanketing trees, the sun appeared. Cally saw that it was a warm, beautiful day. “It’s a short drive,” her father said, the sunlight reflecting off his glasses as he guided the car slowly down Fear Street. “What’s the address again?” He had given the card to Cally. She read the number off the card. “Four twenty-four.” She watched the old houses pass by. Many of them were set far back from the street, half hidden by tall hedges and shrubs. As he drove, Mr. Frasier kept clearing his throat and tapping the wheel nervously. Poor Dad. He’s in such bad shape, Cally thought Whatever he saw up in the attic last night has totally changed him. The Fear Street cemetery passed by on the