sound on that portion of the tape. Rudy had caught another shot of her, placing a slice of her cake on a dessert plate. She didn’t look fat, and Hannah gave a grateful sigh. Perhaps it had merely been the angle on Rudy’s first shot and she didn’t have to lose weight, after all.
There was a shot of several people in makeup chairs and Hannah watched for Tracey. When she spotted her niece, looking adorable in a makeup cape that covered her all the way down to the tips of her shoes, she bracketed the segment by time codes for Andrea. As she wrote down the numbers, she sighed with relief. Only an hour to go.
“Hannah?”
Hannah turned toward the door at the sound of her name and saw P.K. standing there. “Yes?”
“If you’re okay here, I thought I’d run out to the Quick Stop and pick up some snacks.”
“I’m fine,” Hannah assured him. “I found some shots of my niece.”
“Just give me the time codes before you go and I’ll dupe a tape for your sister. How about you? Do you want anything?”
“Just the tape for Andrea.”
“Not that. I mean from the Quick Stop.”
“Oh. Sure.” Hannah started to smile, but then she remember her diet. She rummaged in her purse, pulled out a five-dollar bill and handed it to him. “I’d like a large Diet Coke and as many chocolate candy bars as you can get for this.”
“Chocolate candy bars and Diet Coke?” P.K. asked, sounding amused.
“I need the endorphins from the chocolate,” Hannah explained, with what she thought made perfect sense, “but there’s no sense in adding empty calories.”
P.K. quirked his eyebrows, but he didn’t comment on that reasoning. He just waved and ducked out the door.
After he’d left, the huge truck seemed much less friendly. Hannah settled back down to watch the tape, but she felt uneasy. An icy wind had kicked up, and the metal walls of the truck creaked and groaned with each gust. She wasn’t the type to be frightened at nothing, but Hannah couldn’t help thinking about what would happen if the killer had found out that she was searching Rudy’s outtakes for the sight of his cuff links. Perhaps he’d murdered Coach Watson in the heat of anger, but Lucy’s execution had been cold-blooded and calculated. If the killer thought that Hannah was closing in on him, he could be waiting for an opportunity to get her alone and then…
It took some real effort on Hannah’s part to calm her nerves. She told herself that the killer couldn’t possibly know what she was attempting to do. Only six people knew she was viewing the outtakes. There was Mason Kimball, who thought she was watching them to spot anyone Boyd had talked to in the audience. He knew nothing about her real reason, and since he didn’t know, he couldn’t tell anyone. Then there was Rudy, who thought she was just curious about how much footage had gone into making up the montage, and P.K., who’d assumed that they were looking for shots of Tracey. Andrea and Bill knew, but they’d gone home, and neither one of them would mention it anyway. Then there was Mike, and Hannah knew she was safe on that score. No one could pry any information from Mike.
Hannah sat back and picked up the remote control. She was safe. There was no reason to worry. If she was a little jumpy, she could attribute that to the caffeine in P.K.’s extra-strong coffee and her overactive imagination. She pressed the play button and sighed as she noticed the time code on the screen. An hour to go, and it couldn’t be over soon enough to suit her.
She suffered through a close-up of her at the judging table and groaned. She could almost see her hair frizz under the lights. There were close-ups of the other judges, too, and that made her feel a bit better. None of them were movie star material. Then Boyd came into the frame, and Hannah leaned forward to scrutinize his face. He looked excited at being chosen as a judge, but he certainly wasn’t nervous, and there wasn’t any sign of fear on his face. Boyd conferred with her for a moment, Rudy had caught their off-camera dialogue on his roving cam, and Hannah could hear her own voice faintly in the background as she told Boyd how to rate the four desserts and enter his scores on the score sheets.
Boyd looked vital and healthy, a man in the prime of his life. Even though she fought against it, Hannah felt a slight pang of sadness. Boyd had been a brute to Danielle, and nothing would change that, but he’d died horribly, and the person who’d taken his life deserved to be caught and punished.
Rudy’s camera shifted to shots of the contestants, who were putting the final touches on their desserts. Hannah grinned as she noticed how the contestant who’d baked the winning lemon tart looked back and forth from the judging table to the samples of dessert she’d prepared. She straightened a slice on the plate, wiped the edge with a clean dish towel, then stood back and drew a deep breath. Hannah could see how nervous she was. There was no way, at this point, that she could know she’d end up winning and advancing to the finals.
The next shot made Hannah laugh out loud. It was a rear shot of Mr. Hart, as he bent over to pick up a note card he’d dropped. It wasn’t at all flattering, and she heard Rudy’s voice saying, “Don’t use this shot. We’ll all get fired.” Then the stage manager motioned the contestants forward, and Rudy taped them delivering their entries to the judging table.
A montage had run during the judging. Hannah half expected Rudy to have trained his camera on the giant screen that the audience had watched. It would have been a bit like Pyramus and Thisbe, Shakespeare’s play- within-a-play in Midsummer Night’s Dream, but Rudy had avoided that particular self-indulgence and panned the audience instead. Hannah could hear the music from the montage faintly in the background as a shot of Mr. Avery appeared. He looked extremely nervous, on the edge of panic, and Hannah knew why. He’d tried to bribe Jeremy Rutlege the day he’d arrived, and Lucy had caught him in the act.
There was a shot of Maryann sitting next to Boyd’s empty seat. She was smiling at Boyd instead of watching the montage, and she looked very proud that her baby brother had been chosen to be one of the judges. The audience was quiet, most everyone was gazing up at the giant screen.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a loud crash. Hannah leaned forward to stare at the monitor, but Rudy’s tape was still running, and nothing seemed to be wrong. Then there was a second crash and Hannah hit the pause button. The noise hadn’t come from the sound track. There was someone outside in the parking lot.
Heart pounding fast, Hannah jumped up from her chair. Someone was trying to get into the production truck, and she had to find some kind of weapon. She grabbed the first thing she saw, a folded light stand that was heavy enough to serve as a club, and raced down the hallway toward the door.
The door was locked, but it didn’t look very secure. Hannah was about to copy a technique from a movie she’d seen and grab a desk chair to shove up under the knob. Then she realized that the door opened out. A chair would do no good.
Hannah swallowed hard, attempting to push down the tide of panic. Her ears were on full alert, listening for the sound of footsteps on the metal stairs. The only sound was the wind and the creaking of the truck as the icy gusts hit the sides.
There was no way that Hannah could move. Her legs were shaking too hard. The killer could be standing on the other side of the door, preparing to break it down. When nothing happened for several minutes, she crept quietly to a position near the door, where she could watch the knob. If the killer broke in, she wasn’t going down without a fight. She stood there trembling, her adrenaline racing and her makeshift club at the ready, praying that it was only the wind, rattling the lids on the Dumpsters, and knowing in her heart that it wasn’t.
Chapter Twenty-one
Hannah knew she couldn’t stand there forever, waiting for something to happen. Why had she told P.K. that she’d be all right alone? She should have said she’d ride with him. They could have locked up the production truck for a couple of minutes and right now she’d be standing at the counter of the Quick Stop, paying for her own Diet Coke and chocolate candy bars. Instead, she was all alone, about to face the killer who’d bludgeoned Boyd Watson to death and shot Lucy in the back of the head.
Hannah’s mind whirled, going into overdrive. She had to call for help. But the phone was on the desk right in front of the window and the slats on the Venetian blinds were open slightly. If she used that phone, the killer could see her she’d be a perfect target for one quick shot through the window.
The moment she thought of it, Hannah ht the light switch next to the door and doused the lights. Being in the dark would be to her advantage. Then she crept to the desk and lifted the receiver, preparing to punch out 9-1-1.
