Deana.
A surrogate Tania.
Use your intelligence. Spy your chance…
With a rogue cop, a trained killer, a
Leigh got to her feet. She swayed, put a hand to her forehead, fell back, and flopped on the bed.
Reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand, she saw the small brown container of sleeping pills… Her hand strayed forward, but she snatched it back.
I gotta stay awake.
Deana may call.
Don’t want to sleep anyhow… not with these nightmares…
Pulling on a robe, she went to the hallway, feeling ice-cool tiles beneath her bare feet. She padded into the living room. Dawn had broken; its pale gray light made eerie moving patterns on the carpet.
She looked around…
Caught her breath…
The place was quiet.
Okay, Officers Halliwell and Bodine were probably catching a few z’s. One in the den, the other in the kitchen, where she’d left them…
But somehow, it wasn’t the peaceful quiet of people asleep. This was more an overall, deathly hush. Like the world was holding its breath. Waiting for… what? Armageddon?
Impatiently, she shook her head and huffed out a long, low breath. Don’t be a fool, she told herself. You’re hyped up. Worried out of your skull about Deana.
And fearful that…
She screamed.
Loud and long.
Even as she screamed, she remembered Edith Payne, shrieking like a wounded animal when she discovered Charlie’s broken body all those years ago…
“Oh no, oh NO!!!” Leigh sobbed out frightened little cries, her hands crushed to her chest. Her knees folded and hit the carpet with a sickening jolt.
She scrabbled over to the TV.
Grabbed at the photographs fanned out on the floor.
Horrified at what she saw…
Terrified.
DEANA!!! Oh NO!!…
A dozen or so black-and-white shots.
Deana, her face all bruised, lips cut and swollen. Eyes puffy, almost closed. Hair arranged neatly across her naked shoulders… curling around her breasts.
Leigh snatched up a print, pressed it to her mouth, sobbing, her tears making smudges, carving lines down the bromide. She stopped. Looked at the others.
Picking them up, slowly, one by one. Her stomach twisting, her tormented eyes seeing the damage Mace had done…
Must tell Mattie. There may be some sort of
Mattie would find
She knew Mace like no one else did.
Leigh stumbled to her feet, clasping the photos to her breast. Something else caught her eye.
Another photograph. One she knew well. Deana at Point Reyes Beach. In her new white bikini. Laughing at the camera.
He’d had it all along.
Deana
Guilt welled up.
But maybe you should have listened to Deana. She’d never liked Mace anyway.
Now Deana was held captive by Mace.
And her dork of a mother never even
Leigh hurried into the hallway. To rouse her bodyguards. Tell them that Mace had sneaked in…
Her blood ran cold.
The house was eerily quiet.
Huh!
Some bodyguards… Allowing an intruder to sneak past them… Come to that, they should be around; they must’ve heard me walking about?
Leigh quickly discovered why the two cops were silent. They lay sprawled in pools of blood, congealing loops of it sliding from gaping slits in their throats.
“Mattie. Mattie!!!” Leigh cried into the phone, willing her to pick up. She didn’t. Hurriedly, Leigh yelled at the answering machine. “Mattie. Please come over as soon as you can. Something’s happened here. Something serious. I want you here. NOW!”
Christ! No, Mattie. Just a conversation with her answering machine… A great start to the day—all alone in the house with those awful images of Deana playing on her mind—not to mention two stiffs for company.
Warren! He’ll know what to do…
Letting the prints drift to the floor, Leigh went through her little black book with trembling fingers.
She found Warren’s number. Dialed it.
Knees shaky, heart in her mouth, she prayed for Warren to speak to her.
“The Hastings residence.” A woman’s voice.
Sheena.
“This is Leigh West. I must speak with Warren.”
“You got it, sister.” Sheena’s response was instant. Like she was waiting for Leigh’s call.
A moment’s silence then.
“Leigh. Warren here. What is it?” His voice rose. “Deana?”
“Warren, please come over. Someone’s been here. An intruder. It
“Yes?”
“They’re dead, Warren. They’ve been murdered.”
“Christ.” Warren’s voice was terse. “I’m coming over, Leigh. You called the cops?”
“I phoned Mattie. She’s not in. Left a message for her.”
