Hannah grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down the words
Those were the roles her secret admirer had taken on with her. He made love to her with his camera. And that camera would be focused on her when he carried out her execution.
Hannah started reading again. But the intercom buzzed once more, catching her off guard. She put down the book. Without thinking, Hannah grabbed the intercom phone. “Ben?”
“Hannah, it’s me again, Paul,” he said urgently. “Let me in.”
“What?”
“It’s important! C’mon, buzz me up.”
“Paul, I told you—”
“Hannah, please,” he said. “Something just happened, and I need to talk with you
“All right,” she said. Against all her better judgment, Hannah pressed the entry button. She ran down the hall to Guy’s room to make sure he was asleep. Then she hurried back toward the door, stopping for a moment to grab the knife off the counter. She concealed it in her back pocket again.
Paul was already halfway down the balcony walkway when she stepped outside. He was frazzled, and breathing hard. Hannah noticed he had some photos in his hand.
“What’s going on?” she whispered. “You know, my neighbors just called to complain about us talking out here—”
“I don’t give a shit,” he said, interrupting her lie. He showed her the photos. His hand was shaking. “I found these in my car just now.”
Hannah numbly stared at the pictures, two high-quality photocopies on card-stock paper: a series of shots off a TV screen, about forty smaller images in sequential order showing Janet Leigh being stabbed in the
“I think he’s out there now,” she heard Paul say. “I locked my car earlier. I don’t know how he got in. I was only up here talking with you for—what, a couple of minutes?” Paul glanced down toward the parking lot. “I’ll bet you anything he’s watching us.”
Hannah was gazing at one of the small photos: Janet Leigh wincing as she tried to fight off her attacker, the knife just a blur in front of her.
“You realize what this means?” Paul asked, pointing to the photos. “Once he gives me a photo of the movie murder, it’s not long before…” He trailed off.
“Before I end up dying just like this,” Hannah murmured. “But no one will know—except maybe the girl after me. He’ll videotape my murder in the shower, then make sure his next leading lady sees it.”
“What are you talking about?” Paul asked, snapping Hannah out of her stupor. “What girl? Whose leading lady?”
“I’m talking about the next girl you’ll be screwing around with, Paul,” she replied, frowning at him. “Your next ‘favorite student,’ my replacement. Can’t you see the pattern? These are women you’ve been involved with—or, in my case, a woman you wanted. We’ve all become his leading ladies, his victims,
He shook his head. “Hannah, I’ve had nothing to do with any of this—”
“No, you just keep moving on to the next one,” Hannah said. “And you don’t look back. If no one found out, it didn’t happen, right?”
He was still shaking his head. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. But listen, if you don’t want to go to the police, maybe you should pack up and get out of town, go stay with some old friends, someplace where you know you’ll be safe.”
She backed toward the door. “Thanks, Paul. You can go now.”
“Hannah, please—”
Ducking inside, she closed the door on him, then locked it.
Her back to the door, Hannah suddenly realized that she was stepping right into her killer’s trap. Tomorrow she would leave Seattle a fugitive, and stay the night in a cheap roadside motel.
It was just what Janet Leigh had done in
Crouched down at the foot of the stairs, Ben put Seth’s key back under the flowerpot. He had watched the owner of the house, a stocky man with red hair, return from walking the dog. Now, only two of the windows were lit up in the big house. It was almost eleven o’clock.
Ben started up the driveway, past the car, a Dodge Caravan. He glanced over his shoulder toward the garage, and stopped. He wondered if the family let Seth store anything in their garage. They didn’t seem to use it for parking their car.
Skulking back toward garage, Ben found the side door, and tried the handle. It wasn’t locked. He stepped into the dark two-car garage. It was crammed with so much junk there was no room for a car. A dim shaft of light came from a window on the opposite wall. Ben could make out silhouettes of bicycles, a lawnmower, rakes, brooms, a broken chair on top of a table, old lawn furniture. But he couldn’t see anything else.
Ben noticed the light switch by the door. There was no window along the wall where he stood. No one from the house would know the garage light was on. He decided to take a chance, and flicked on the switch.
All at once, he heard a click, then a loud mechanical humming noise. The light went on, and the garage door started to yawn open.
“Jesus,” Ben murmured, flicking the switch again. The gears shifted noisily. The light from the garage had already spread out to the driveway. But the descending door started to block it out again.
Ben knew he would have to make a run for it. He quickly glanced around the garage while the light was still on, taking everything in before it became dark again. He saw an old kiddie pool, more lawn equipment, old cans of paint stacked up; but no file cabinets or mysterious boxes—nothing where somebody might be storing some secret videotapes or photographs. No one would leave expensive video equipment in such a dusty, unkempt place.
The garage light went out.
Ben opened the door a crack and peered back at the house. No change: the same two windows with lights on. Everything was quiet again.
Slowly he opened the door and stepped outside. In the distance, he could hear a siren. He crept around to the front of the garage. Looking up at the house again, Ben noticed someone at one of the windows. He ducked behind the car.
The wail of the police siren grew louder, closer.
Ben carefully peered above the hood of the Dodge Caravan. He could still see someone in the window. It was the stocky, red-haired man, and he seemed to be looking out toward the garage. He finally turned away, then disappeared from view.
Staying low, Ben darted from behind the car to the bushes at the side of the driveway. It sounded as if the police car or fire truck was coming up Aloha Street. He glanced back to see if he could escape into the neighboring yard. A tall chain-link fence divided the properties.
The siren was deafening now. The trees and houses along Aloha were bathed by a swirling red strobe. He held his breath as the squad car sped past the old Tudor mansion, then continued up the block.
He waited another minute. Staying close to the tall shrubs at the side of the driveway, Ben hurried to the street. Then he started back toward Hannah’s.
She hadn’t quite fallen asleep, but she felt herself drifting off. Hannah was lying on the sofa with her head
