'I've already checked every window I could reach. They're all wired.'
'Yes, I would expect so.'
'I wish I could be calm like you.'
'I'm not calm,' Sara protested. 'I'm quite… dis-combobulated.'
Her choice of words made Carrie smile. 'So am I,' she said.
'I'm thinking…'
'Yes?'
'How curious it is that the three of us are in this house together. What is it that we have in common?'
'I don't know,' Carrie said. 'And I don't know that we'll have the time to find out.'
'We will get out of here.'
Her resolve bolstered Carrie. 'Yes, we must, and we will.'
'I wonder what's keeping Anne.'
'She's going to be a problem.'
'Oh?'
Carrie nodded. 'She won't admit she received a letter.'
'Perhaps she's in shock.'
Carrie thought Sara might be right about that. 'And denial,' she said.
'We're going to all have to work together, but I don't know how much help I can be. I'll do whatever I can. I'm sixty-eight
years old.' Sara shrugged. 'And I'm terribly out of shape. When I received the invitation for a free two-week stay at the spa
as a promotion, I thought to myself, why not? The experts say it's never too late to turn your life around. I decided to get into better shape. As you can see, I'm overweight, and once we get outside-and we will find a way to do that,' she said with conviction, 'I won't be able to walk far. I should have had both of my knees replaced several years ago. I'm walking with bone
on bone now.'
'Then Anne and I will hide you somewhere… somewhere safe in the woods while we go get help.'
They heard a door close and both looked up. Anne had finally decided to join them. Carrie's mouth dropped open when the frail woman started down the stairs. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Anne was all dressed up in a hot pink St. John pants suit. Her gold earrings matched the buttons. She had taken the time to put on makeup and curl her hair. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she smiled, and then crossed the living room to join them. Her high heels clicked against the marble floor. Where in heaven's name did she think she was going? A formal brunch?
'Oh, dear,' Sara whispered.
'Good morning, ladies,' Anne said. 'Or rather, good afternoon.'
She sounded so cheerful. Had her mind snapped? Carrie wondered. She was about to ask the woman what the hell was the matter with her when Sara suggested Anne sit down.
'Did you sleep well?' Anne asked Sara. Then, before she could answer, Anne continued on. 'I can't believe I slept so long. It must be this wonderful mountain air. Coming from Cleveland, it's a delightful change.'
'Would you care for some coffee?' Sara asked. She was watching her closely, as though she was trying to interpret the
woman's bizarre behavior.
'Not just yet. I'll ring when I'm ready.'
Carrie turned to Sara. 'I told you she was going to be a problem.'
'I'm sorry. What did you say?' Anne asked. She carefully sat down and crossed one ankle over the other.
Carrie turned to her. 'It wasn't the wonderful mountain air that made you sleep so long, Anne. We were all drugged.'
'That's nonsense. Look where we are,' she said. 'Who would do such a thing in this beautiful-'
Carrie cut her off. 'Did you bring your letter down?'
'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'See what I mean?' Carrie asked Sara.
The judge took over. 'Anne, Carrie and I each received a letter. They're there on the coffee table. Please read them.'
Carrie noticed that Anne's hand was violently shaking as she reached for the letters. She picked them up and then quickly
placed them back on the table. 'I don't need to read these.'
'Yes, you do,' Sara gently asserted. 'You'll see that we're in trouble here. Someone has wired this place to kill us.'
'What rubbish,' Anne muttered. 'I will not have my day ruined with this ridiculous game you two are playing.'
'We're locked inside this house,' Sara told her.
'We are not.'
'It's no use,' Carrie said. 'I tried to tell her all of this upstairs.'
'You're lying,' Anne said.
Carrie considered punching the woman. She thought she'd probably kill her if she did because Anne was so painfully thin
and sickly. A good wind could have done her in.
'If any of us opens a window or door, the house will blow up,' Sara patiently explained.
Neither she nor Carrie anticipated Anne's reaction. The woman bolted from her chair and ran across the living room.
'You're only lying to get me upset. The house isn't wired, and I'm going to prove it to you.'
She was headed for the front door.
Chapter 8
John Paul had to hang around Utopia longer than he'd anticipated, but the wait was worth it. He was sitting, or rather sprawling, in an easy chair half hidden behind a couple of limp palm trees inside the lobby's bar when Avery Delaney walked inside. One hard look and he had her all figured out. She was a typical California blonde. No, maybe not typical. She was unique, he'd give her that. But she was definitely all about her body. Why else would she want to spend a week at a spa? Why would anyone?
The Delaney woman wore a short white T-shirt that fit snugly across her full breasts, and tight jeans, obviously intending to show off her long legs and her tight ass. Her long, straight, blond hair shimmered in the light. It looked natural, but he doubted that it was. Probably came from a bleach bottle. Her sunglasses hid her eyes, but he figured she was probably wearing colored contact lenses. Her T-shirt hid her belly button, but he wouldn't have been surprised to find that she'd had it pierced. Wasn't that the fashion these days?
She was hot, all right. In fact, Avery Delaney was a beautiful woman, but she wasn't his type. She was a little too perfect for his tastes. Sexy as sin, though. As he watched her stop and take in her surroundings- pretending she didn't notice how the other guests had stopped to stare at her-John Paul wondered how much of her was real and how much had been cosmetically 'enhanced.' The breasts, definitely. And maybe even the ass.
She wasn't the kind of woman he'd want to have a lasting relationship with, but then he didn't want a lasting relationship with
any woman. One night with her, however, sounded like a damned good idea. Hell, the woman probably had the IQ of a tsetse
fly, but in bed, brainpower really didn't matter.
Miss Airhead couldn't seem to figure out where check-in was. Was she waiting for someone to take her hand and lead her
