driven out here wanting to talk to her about the losses he'd taken in the stock market and the fact that Annette was divorcing him. Hannah had almost convinced herself that this was the case when she heard a sound that shot holes in her newly formed theory.
That sound was a key in the lock, turning the tumblers. It was followed by a click, and then Hannah heard the heavy glass door opening. Greg must have kept the key to his store, and no one had bothered to change the locks when Connie Mac's Kitchen Boutique had taken over the space.
Hannah moved slightly and peeked out again, this time from behind a serving bowl. Greg was relocking the door behind him. But why would he do that? And why hadn't he called out to her if he'd guessed she was here?
Greg bent over to pick something up, and Hannah almost gasped out loud when she saw that it was a baseball bat. Had Greg come out to the boutique to vandalize the store that had put him out of business?
Like lightning, an image popped into Hannah's mind ' one that made her shiver. It was Connie Mac's skull, crushed by an object that Doc Knight had thought was a baseball bat. Alan Carpenter's skull had also been crushed in the very same way. And there had been a splinter from a baseball bat in Norman's ski cap.
As Hannah watched, Greg began to walk up the aisle, holding the bat like a club. He paused near the center of the store, and an awful smile crossed his face. It was the smile of someone who'd slipped off the edge into madness, a cross between a grin and a leer, which made Hannah's mouth go suddenly dry and her heart pound frantically in her chest. She'd never thought to see a smile like that on the face of one of her friends. But she had to stop thinking of Greg as a friend. He was the killer. He'd injured Norman and murdered Connie Mac and Alan.
The chilling smile seemed frozen on Greg's face as he started forward again. He was humming something under his breath, and as Hannah listened, he began to chant a phrase in a high-pitched, childish voice. 'Come out, Hannah. Come out, come out, wherever you are.'
There was a singsong lilt to Greg's voice that made Hannah's blood run cold. Greg was insane, dangerously insane.
'Red Rover, Red Rover, send Hannah over,' Greg called out. And then he laughed, an eerie sort of giggle. 'You're it, Hannah. I'm going to tag you. You can't get in free this time.'
Hannah swallowed hard. All the games they'd played in the vacant lot at the end of the block were mixed up together in Greg's deranged mind. But this was no game. Greg had come out here with the intention of making her his next victim.
'I know where you're hiding. You can't fool me, Hannah Banana.' Greg moved forward again, toward the back of the store. 'You're in the office. I saw your flashlight and I'm going to get you.'
Hannah gasped. Andrea was in the office. She couldn't let Greg go back there! With an inventiveness born of desperation, Hannah scuttled to the next display table, the one that held the heavy crystal vase that Andrea had admired. She grabbed it and pegged it toward the far wall as hard as she could. The expensive vase shattered with a satisfying crash, and Greg whirled around toward the spot where the vase had landed. 'So that's where you are, you naughty girl! Clumsy Hannah. Now see what you've done?'
Greg stalked past the display table where Hannah was hiding. She held her breath, preparing to run, but he didn't stop. He was wiggling the bat, the same way a power hitter might wiggle it before he hit a homerun, as he strode toward the place he thought she was hiding.
Hannah knew she had to warn her sister to stay hidden. Greg didn't know that Andrea was here, and if she stayed under the desk, she'd be safe. Hannah took a deep breath and called out at the top of her lungs. 'You can't catch me, Greg Canfield!'
The moment the words had left her mouth, Hannah crouched low and scooted toward another display table. Greg whirled toward the place she'd been, but Hannah was already across the aisle, crouched low behind a table holding a silver service.
'Where are you, Hannah? Come out, come out!' Greg stalked forward, his bat at the ready.
'Why did you murder them, Greg?' Hannah asked.
Greg turned again toward the sound of her voice, but Hannah had moved behind another display table. She had to keep calling out and moving, leading Greg away from Andrea.
'They took everything!' Greg surprised Hannah by answering her. 'Annette left. me when she found out about Redlines, and it was all Connie Mac and Alan's fault!'
'Did they deserve to die?' Hannah asked, scooting to an other position the moment the question had left her mouth.
'They did a bad thing. I had to punish them.' Greg's voice had grown softer, and Hannah wasn't sure whether that made him more dangerous or less dangerous. 'You understand, don't you, Hannah? They deserved the ultimate punishment.'
'Do I deserve to die?' Hannah asked, moving crab-fashion to another counter.
'I'm sorry I have to kill you, Hannah, but I don't have a choice. The minute Grandma told me you'd gone to the mall, I knew you were going to find out. And I can't let you tell anyone what I did.'
'They'll find out.' Hannah moved again, crouching low.
'No, they won't. They'll think it's the ghost. They're so stupid, they believe in ghosts!' Greg laughed again as he moved in Hannah's direction. And then he started to chant, 'Starlight, moonlight, hope to see the ghost tonight. Starlight, moonlight. . .' Greg stopped and gave another chilling laugh. 'Remember that, Hannah? Remember the game we used to play? You were always the ghost. Now I'm the ghost and I get to scare you!'
Greg's back was turned and this was her chance. Hannah inched her way to the display of cast-iron skillets. She reached up and grabbed the biggest one, the same size Grandma Ingrid had used to fry chicken, and ducked back down again. And then she called out again to the madman who'd once been her friend. 'I never thought you'd hurt me, Greg.'
'I won't hurt you,' Greg responded, moving toward the display of cast-iron cookware. 'You deserve it for sticking your nose in where it didn't belong, but you won't feel a thing. Remember how good I am with a bat? I never miss the ball. I didn't hurt them, either. I made sure of that. I'm not a bad person.'
As Greg lunged for the spot where he thought she was hiding, Hannah darted to the counter directly behind him and stood up. But before she could swing the heavy spider, Andrea popped up from the counter directly in front of Greg. She was holding a fire extinguisher in her hand, and as Hannah watched in total shock, her sister pulled the handle and foam spewed out, directly into Greg's face.
The next few seconds passed with what seemed like the speed of lightning. Greg hollered and dropped the bat, reaching up instinctively to cover his eyes. And while he was momentarily incapacitated, Hannah swung the frying pan, connecting solidly with his head. Greg didn't even whimper. He just crashed to the floor like a bale of hay that had been thrown down from the back of a truck. On his way down, he took out a Thanksgiving serving platter and several champagne glasses with silver rims, but Hannah didn't give a second thought to the damage. She just stepped over her former friend to hug her sister tightly.
'I did good, huh?' Andrea asked, looking a bit shocked at her own bravery.
'You were great,' Hannah said, not about to spoil the moment by correcting her sister's grammar. 'I think he's out cold, but I'll sit on him to make sure he doesn't try to get up again. You'd better call the sheriff's station.'
'They're already on the way and they've got Greg's whole confession on tape. I held up my cell phone so the dispatcher could hear, and she patched the call through to Mike and Bill.'
'Good for you!' Hannah declared, plunking herself down on Greg's back. She was careful to keep the frying pan at the ready, just in case. 'Flip on the lights and see if you can find something we can use to tie him up.'
After Andrea had raced off to the front counter, Hannah reached down and took Greg's wrist. His pulse felt steady, and now that the lights were on, she could see no sign of blood. She'd swung the frying pan as hard as she could, but she'd been a lot gentler on Greg that he'd been on Connie Mac and Alan.
Andrea came back at a run and handed Hannah a roll of red satin gift ribbon. The words 'Connie Mac's Kitchen Boutique' were stamped along the length of the roll in gold. 'How about this? It was all I could find.'
'It'll do,' Hannah told her, not missing the irony as she bound Greg's hands and feet with an unending reminder of the store that had replaced his. Then she stood up and stared down at Greg. She thought she'd known him, but she hadn't. People could change a lot in twenty years. And Greg hadn't known her, either. He'd assumed that once he called out for her, she'd simply present herself like a lamb to the slaughter.
'Are you okay?' Andrea asked, catching Hannah's pensive mood.
'Yes, thanks to you. Where did you get that fire extinguisher?'
