Bleeding profusely from her throat.
Lauren let out a soft cry and knelt down beside her, desperate to find a pulse. She fumbled with her phone while she sought the woman’s wrist and hit 911 instinctively. “Susan, oh, Susan…I’m so sorry,” she murmured. An operator came on, and Lauren quickly gave her location. There had to be officers on the street. There had to be help nearby.
“Oh, Susan…” she said miserably.
The woman’s lips moved.
Lauren bent close to her, her heart in her throat. She was torn. The woman was badly hurt, maybe even near death. But she had to try to get her to speak. Had to find Stephan and save Heidi.
“He was here, wasn’t he? Stephan was here. He hurt you. And now I have to find him. I have to help Heidi. Susan, where is she? Please, you have to help me.”
She could hear a siren. Thank God. Help was coming.
“Please, Susan!”
Again the woman’s lips moved.
Lauren bent lower and finally realized what Susan was saying, the words she was repeating over and over again.
An address.
Judy Lockwood, aware that idle hands and idle minds were never good, kept up with her knitting, hour after hour. But as she looked down at her stitches, she suddenly had an uncanny feeling and looked up.
Leticia was awake.
She wasn’t just awake. She was straining against her restraints and staring at Judy. “The hour has come.”
Judy frowned, then hurried to her niece’s side. “Leticia, thank the Lord, you’re awake.”
Leticia didn’t seem to see her, though. She only repeated, “The hour has come.”
“What hour, Leticia? What hour?” Judy asked, frowning.
Leticia stared straight at her then, as if noticing her for the first time. “I saw him. He was killing a woman in the Square.”
Judy thought that maybe she should call for a doctor.
But she didn’t.
She made a different call, instead.
Mark practically flew into the house. Jonas was right behind him.
“Where’s Lauren?” Mark demanded of Maggie, who only stared at him, stricken. The others were there, as well, Big Jim, Bobby and Stacey. But there was no sign of Lauren, or of Heidi and Deanna.
“She got away from me at the library,” Maggie said.
“Deanna?” Jonas cried.
No one moved. They only looked guiltily away. He finally paid attention to his surroundings and realized that the grand entry hall of the mansion looked like a strange arsenal, with all kinds of bizarre weapons arranged in rows. There were a slew of water pistols. Bows and arrows. Stakes and hammers. Everyone was wearing a large cross. They were prepared.
But they were alone.
He turned, ready to accuse Jonas, but the man looked so stricken that Mark could only conclude that he really was good, or else he was such an accomplished actor that he should have been a stand-in for Benedict Arnold.
“Exactly what happened?” Mark demanded, looking from face to face.
“Heidi was sleeping. I checked on her every few minutes,” Stacey said.
“Deanna was downstairs with us,” Bobby said.
Heidi and Deanna had walked out on their own, Mark knew. Stephan hadn’t gotten in—except into their minds.
He swung around to stare accusingly at Maggie.
Where had Lauren gone when she left the library? The nightmare that had plagued him forever was alive and vivid in his mind’s eye.
A bride in white, walking down the aisle, her eyes aglow with love.
And then the blood, the rivers of blood…
“Has anyone gotten hold of Sean?” he asked.
“Yes,” Maggie said.
Just then Mark’s phone rang. He answered and heard Sean Canady’s voice. “The Square,” he said simply. “A fortune-teller was attacked in her tent.”
Mark turned around, heading for the door. “The Square!” he shouted.
“Wait!” Bobby yelled.
But Mark wasn’t waiting.
