The room was a lot smaller than Hannah had thought it would be, just a cubbyhole with a desk, a swivel chair, and bare walls devoid of pictures. For a moment, Hannah wondered why no one had bothered to decorate the boss’s office, but then she remembered that this was a mobile production truck. Pictures would have fallen off the walls and broken in transit.
There were pictures on Mason’s desk Hannah noticed them as she slipped the keepsake pen in the holder. He probably kept them in a desk drawer when the truck was moving, taken them out and arranged them on the top of his desk. There was one of Ellen in a gold frame, smiling at the camera and looking ten year younger. There was another of Mason and Craig, and Hannah could tell that it was recent photo. Father and son were both beaming, and together, they were holding up a silver trophy. It was a cup with a silver basketball at its base and both of them looked proud and happy.
She stared at the picture for a moment. It must have been taken at the award ceremony that Delores had mentioned, when Craig had broken Jordan High’s scoring record. Craig was dressed in his basketball uniform and Mason was wearing a blue blazer with a white shirt and…
Hannah gasped as she noticed something shiny on Mason’s shirtsleeve. The sleeve of his blazer had pulled up as he’d lifted the award with Craig and his cuff link was exposed. She picked up the photo for a closer look and almost dropped it as she realized that Mason’s cuff link was shaped like a horse head with a diamond for the eye.
She stood there for a moment, her knees shaking and her heart racing with the awful realization. Mason had lied to her about the cuff links. He’d had them all along.
And that meant Mason was the killer.
Hannah froze as she heard footsteps outside, approaching the production truck. Someone was coming, and she had to get out of Mason’s office right away. She couldn’t let him know that she’d seen the picture and guessed his secret.
For one frightening moment, Hannah’s feet refused to obey her command to flee. Then panic took over and she dashed out of Masons office in a flash, rushing down the hall and heading straight for the phone on P.K.’s desk. She had to call Mike right away and tell him that Mason Kimball was the killer.
Hannah had just grabbed the phone when she heard heavy footsteps on the metal stairs. And then the door opened and Mason came in. He was wearing a smile that made Hannah shudder as the phone dropped from her nerveless fingers.
Chapter Twenty-four
“There you are, Hannah.” Mason gave her his chilling smile. “I believe we have an appointment?”
Hannah took a deep breath. She had no choice but to brazen it out. Perhaps Mason didn’t know she’d realized that he was the murderer, and it was only her own fear that was playing tricks with her mind.
“You’re right. Let’s go, Mason.” Hannah brushed past him and headed for the door. “I was just returning a pen that I borrowed from P.K. last night. Don’t let me forget to lock the door behind us.”
Mason didn’t say anything, but Hannah could feel his menacing presence behind her as she reached for the doorknob. She had to get outside. They were alone in here, but there might be people in the parking lot. She’d be safe around other people.
Her hands were trembling so hard, she couldn’t turn the doorknob. Hannah tried once and failed. Then Mason reached forward, around her waist, and Hannah had all she could do not to scream out in terror.
“I’ll get it,” Mason said, turning the knob and pushing the door open. But instead of letting her walk past him, he blocked the exit with his arm and turned around to face her. “Why are your hands shaking like that?”
“Because I’m freezing.” Hannah said the firs thing that popped into her mind. If Mason thought she was afraid of him, he’d know she’d guessed the truth. “The heater on my truck went out.”
Mason smiled again. “Very good, Hannah. If I didn’t know better, I might believe you.”
“What?” Hannah tried for her most innocent expression.
“I know you figured it out. It’s right on your face.”
Hannah felt her hopes die but she gave it one last shot. “Figured out what, Mason?”
“It’s too late to play games.” Mason gave a bitter laugh. “You tipped your hand when you asked me about the cuff links. I knew you’d seen the pictures Lucy took. But I figures no one would connect the cuff links with me and even if they did, they couldn’t prove anything then. Craig came out to the truck this afternoon to tell me you were asking about steroids, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before you put the pieces together. It’s a pity you figured it out, Hannah. Now I’ll have to kill you.”
Hannah swallowed hard, attempting to dislodge the lump of panic that filled her throat. “You can’t kill me here. P.K. will be back any minute.”
“No, he won’t. I waited until he left before I came in. But you’re right, Hannah. Someone could drive by hear the shot.” Mason reached out and grabbed her arm. “Come on. We’re going to the kitchen set. When they find your body on the news tonight, it’ll give the ratings a real boost.”
Hannah dug in her heels and refused to budge. Mason was strong, but so was she. If she could shove him away and pull the door shut, she could call Mike for help.
“Forget it, Hannah.” Mason pulled a gun from pocket and slammed the barrel up against her side. “I’ll kill you here, if you leave me no choice.”
Mason was serious. Hannah could see that from the determined expression on his face. He would kill her here, but if she cooperated and walked to the kitchen set with him, it would give her time to think of a way to escape.
“You win, Mason. I’m coming.” Hannah wasn’t about to argue with a loaded gun. As they walked down the steps, she spotted the box that P.K. had left on the steps and her brain kicked into gear. If it was still there when P.K. came back, he’d take it to the kitchen set for her. If she could delay Mason long enough, P.K. might arrive in time to save her.
“What’s this?” Mason kicked the box with his foot.
Hannah thought about lying, but she knew he wouldn’t buy it. “It’s my box of ingredients.”
“Take it with you,” Mason ordered, but then he changed his mind. “No. Hold it right there. What’s in it?”
“Butter, sugar, eggs, molasses, flour, soda, and spices,” Hannah rattled off the ingredients.
“Pick it up.”
Hannah picked up the box. She glanced inside and sighed as she realized that Lisa had put everything in soft plastic containers. She’d been hoping to swing the molasses bottle at Mason’s head, but the molasses was in Tupperware, and wasn’t much of a weapon.
“Walk.”
Mason prodded her with the gun barrel in his pocket and Hannah walked. She felt like prisoner walking to her execution until she remembered that Herb would be on duty in the auditorium. Perhaps she could give him some sort of signal that Mason wouldn’t catch, some trick phrase that would make him call Bill and Mike at the station. She was still trying to think of what it could be when Mason opened the auditorium door and pushed her inside.
Herb was gone. The sight of his empty chair made Hannah’s hopeful heart drop down to her toes. She should have expected it. Mason had planned all this out. He would have sent Herb on some fool errand, just as he’d done with P.K.
“This is a bad idea, Mason.” Hannah did her best to sound reasonable. She had to buy herself some time, think of some way to delay him. P.K. could return and come into the auditorium, Herb could come back from his errand, Mike could come in to check on the condition of the stage floor, practically anyone could happen along. That wouldn’t do much good if she was already dead, but she was still alive.
“It’s a very good idea. I made sure nobody would disturb us”
Mason gestured toward a sign that was posted on the auditorium door. It read, CLOSED SET—NO ADMITTANCE, in black block letters, and below it was a note in Mason’s handwriting, Hannah—I have a staff meeting at 4:45. Join me at the production truck at 5.
“When they find your body, they’ll assume you ignored the sign and went in to drop off your box. They’ll also assume that the killer followed you onto the set and killed you,” Mason said, sounding very proud of himself.
