resting on Ben’s lap. He’d covered her with a blanket. From his breathing, just a decibel away from snoring, she guessed he’d nodded off an hour ago. They were both still dressed. It might have been more comfortable in her bed, but she didn’t feel right about that. At the same time, she needed to be with him. Perhaps they were meant to be uncomfortable tonight, a reminder that he was going back to his wife, and in a few hours she would be leaving town.
Ben had been upset with her for letting Paul come by a second and third time tonight. Having found no evidence whatsoever in Seth’s apartment, Ben was now convinced that Paul was the killer.
Perhaps he was right. Though Seth claimed to have written the essay, it was Paul’s name on the piece.
The article kept focusing on the director’s courtship-by-camera with the objects of his obsession. Once again, the author mentioned four stages to this type of fixation, with the director as voyeur, protector, manipulator, and finally, executioner.
Ben had said it was a bit far-fetched to assume someone would commit a series of murders based on some theory about film directors.
“What about Charles Manson basing mass murder on the Beatles song ‘Helter Skelter’?” Hannah had pointed out.
Ben had been worried about her going off alone tomorrow, repeating all of Janet Leigh’s movements in
Hannah wondered whether or not it would be easier for the three of them to “disappear” together. Part of her felt the need to end things with Ben now, and just move on. She and Guy had already become too attached to him. She was used to being alone—even when it was scary.
Hannah listened to Ben’s breathing. There was a comfort to that sound, and she felt herself drifting off.
Suddenly, a loud banging jolted her awake. Startled, Ben nearly knocked her off the sofa.
“My God, what’s happening?” Hannah whispered. It took them both a moment to realize someone was pounding on the door.
All at once, Guy let out a shriek.
Hannah bolted off the couch and ran down the hall to his room. She flicked on the light switch.
Guy was sitting up in bed. He’d already thrown back the covers. He was still screaming.
Hannah ran to him, and took him in her arms. Hugging her son, she anxiously glanced around the room.
The pounding outside had stopped.
“What happened, honey? Are you okay?” she asked, trying to get her breath.
Guy pressed his face against her stomach. “A lion was chasing me,” he cried, the words muffled.
Hannah heard the locks clicking on the front door. “Ben?” she called nervously.
“I’m just checking things out,” he answered.
Her hand trembling, Hannah stroked Guy’s hair. “You just had a bad dream, honey. That’s all.” She waited until she heard the front door close, the locks clicking once more. “Ben?” she called again.
A moment later, he appeared in Guy’s doorway. He held up a videocassette in his hand, the label turned in her direction. “They left this,” he whispered. “It’s
It was another forty-five minutes before Guy was asleep once again. Hannah had taken his temperature: 98.5. Ben had read him some Dr. Suess. Then Hannah had fallen back on her standard choo-choo routine to lull him to dreamland.
Hannah switched off the light in Guy’s room. Ben picked up the
“I don’t understand,” he whispered. “Didn’t you tell me that Gulletti showed you the shower scene from
Hannah shrugged. “Maybe he showed me those pictures to throw me off. I don’t know.” Hannah switched on a light in the living room. “That essay in the film book kept mentioning
Ben frowned. “It was weird, him pounding on the door like that. It’s as if he wants us to see this now—right away.”
“He did something like this before when he tried to kill you. You know, the
Hannah put the
Hannah knew the movie, and she knew the scene. Stewart wouldn’t make it to the top; he couldn’t save her. And the object of his obsession would plunge to her death.
Twenty-one
“I know you sometimes go to church before you come over here,” Hannah was saying into the phone. “I was just wondering if you were planning to do that this morning.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, honey,” Joyce replied. “My, you’re calling awfully early. You’re up with the roosters. Is everything okay there?”
“Well, actually, I’m a little worried. I got a strange phone call. I’d feel a lot better if you didn’t go out this morning. Let Ben come over and walk you back here, okay?”
“Good Lord, Hannah,” she sighed. “I’ll be safe for a half a block in broad daylight.”
“So—humor me, okay?”
Hannah couldn’t think of any women friends besides Joyce or Tish who might have been tagged for Kim Novak’s
“All right, I’ll stay put,” Joyce agreed. “I didn’t have a lot of social plans set before seven-thirty this morning anyway. Tell Dreamboat Ben I’ll be here—waiting for him.”
After Hannah hung up, Ben asked if she really needed Joyce to baby-sit today. “Aren’t you leaving in about two and a half hours?”
“Oh, I forgot.” Hannah rubbed her forehead. Then she poured herself another cup of coffee. “Force of habit. Well, I want Guy to say good-bye to her anyway.”
“A lot of good-byes this morning,” Ben remarked.
He’d tried to talk Hannah into letting him go with her. But Hannah’s mind had been made up. She and Guy were traveling by themselves. They needed to cut all ties and disappear.
Nevertheless, Ben had made her promise to contact him tonight and let him know that she and Guy were okay. She could call or leave a message for him at the Best Western Executive Inn, where he’d made reservations for the evening.
They watched the local six A.M. news for an update on Kenneth’s death. It was the fifth featured news story.
