“Hey, Speedy, wait up,” Bettina called. I pretended not to hear. She was usually the one who bested me, but today my adrenaline had kicked in. The faster I went, the harder it would be to think. The cold air filled my lungs like the fumes of a strong peppermint candy.

Crack. Pop.

A branch breaking. A rustling in the trees to my right. I looked over, slowed, peered into the trees. It was then I caught a flash of someone traipsing through the brush. A woman, her hair loose around her shoulders. She’d stopped and was peeking around a tree. Watching me.

A jogger, just catching her breath, I told myself. But a jogger wouldn’t be wandering through the trees.

Not in all white.

I moved off the path, up toward the group of trees where I’d seen her. I thought about the photo. The countdowns. The messages. I’m watching you!

“Kendra!” Bettina called again.

I rushed up to the tree the girl had been behind. Stepped around it.

But no one was there. Nothing was there.

“Hey! What’s wrong?” Bettina said from the path. She was breathing heavy, hands on her lower back.

I shook my head, meeting her back there. “Nothing,” I said. “I just thought I saw a deer.”

As we walked the rest of the loop, I tried to focus on other things. “Did you see what they did to Mrs. Tressle’s house?” I asked.

Bettina nodded. “I sent Sloane over there to help clean it up.”

I bit my lip. “I can’t say she doesn’t entirely deserve it, because she’s a troll half the time, but all that egg...on her siding. That is going to be a bitch to clean up.”

“Well...’tis the season,” Bettina said.

“Yeah.” I paused. “Been kind of a shitty one so far.”

“Tell me about it.” Bettina stopped, retied her sneaker, then stood and stretched. “So you’re worried, too? I just keep thinking—if Jackie’s abroad, then who the hell took our picture?”

“And who keeps writing to us?” I added, referring to the latest comment I’d gotten from “Ivy Woods.”

The million-dollar questions.

Someone else was lurking in our woods, someone unknown. We didn’t know what they wanted. It meant we were back at square one, with less than two weeks to go until Halloween.

“Did you ever think maybe we should just cancel Full Moon or the party?” Bettina asked. “Maybe this year is too much?”

“Are you kidding?” I gaped at her. “You’re going to let some jerk taunt us into canceling everything?”

“We could come up with a good reason,” she said. “Something—”