“Yep, that one.”
“We already searched it.”
“I know, but...something is sticking in the back of my head.”
“What is it?” Brodie teased when they got there. “The zombies aren’t scaring you, are they?”
“It’s not the zombies at all,” Mark said.
“Then what?”
“It’s the headstones. The way they’re set—I feel as if I’ve seen them before.”
“Where?” Brodie asked.
“At the church. St. Ann’s.”
* * *
“A wedding gown is the first thing on the agenda,” Alessande said. “I can’t get married without a gown.”
“That could take forever,” Sailor said. “And we need to be going to the church.”
“I know, but it won’t take long, only about thirty minutes,” Alessande assured them. She was seated at the table, whipping through websites on Barrie’s computer.
“Aha! I found it,” she said.
Barrie, Rhiannon and Sailor all rushed over.
“Gorgeous, very medieval, very...Elven,” Sailor said.
“Are you sure that’s the one you want?” Barrie asked her.
“Positive,” Alessande said, looking up at them. “I’ve already seen myself wearing it.”
* * *
Mark stood in the church graveyard, staring at the graves.
There were no zombies clawing their way out of the ground, but he had been right. The crooked old stones were arrayed just as they had been set up on the soundstage. Even the big old oak tree—with its branches dripping with Spanish moss, tired and mournful looking—matched the fabricated oak on the soundstage.
He was at the rear of the church, standing on the unconsecrated ground—the ground where the dead-by- suicides had been buried. Most of the stones were illegible now, the lettering worn away by wind and time, or obscured by mold and moss.
“You’re definitely on to something here,” Brodie said, walking up beside him.
“Since Sebastian was around at the time the filming was going on, I guess it was natural he told the designer to create a set that resembled something he knew. He probably sent him here to check it out, or gave him photos to work with.” He looked speculatively up at the old tree. “And this is also where Brigitte said she met with the masked priest.”
“There’s definitely no one here now,” Brodie said.
“No,” Mark agreed. “But...”
“But?”
“I don’t like it.”
“Come on. The others will be here any minute. We have your wedding to set up.”
* * *
In the few days until the wedding they split up their duties, watching over the Hildegards in Pandora’s Box and the Hildegard being held captive in Barrie’s basement.
They continued searching for clues in the disappearance of Regina Johnson but came up empty.
And yet Mark felt a ray of hope.
True, they hadn’t been able to find her and free her.
But neither had they found her dead.
* * *
Friday evening they decided to have a rehearsal dinner at the Snake Pit.
They brought Charlaine and Alan Hildegard, and Lieutenant Edwards gave up his evening to sit watch over Brigitte so all the Gryffald cousins and their fiances could attend.
It was when Alessande was on her way back from the ladies’ room that she ran into Greg Swayze.
“Hey, congratulations,” he told her. “I was...stunned when I heard. I hadn’t really realized you two were a couple. I mean, well, I wouldn’t have asked you out if I’d known.”
“No need to feel bad. We were on a break at the time.”
“That wasn’t that long ago.”
“I know. But then...” She smiled encouragingly. “You’re good-looking and talented. I’m sure you have no trouble meeting women.”
“The thing is, I don’t want a woman who—well, who wants to use me just to get a part,” he said.
She grimaced at that. “Well, I did meet you because of the film.”
“Yeah, but you’re one strange actress. You practically told me that you didn’t want the part.”
She shrugged. “I’m not much of an actress. I do like extra work, though. I don’t have to do anything but show up and then get paid.”
He smiled and touched her hair. “Well, you’re one of the good ones who got away. I always seem to be taken by tall blondes with blue eyes.” He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I met another actress who fit that description and was right for the part. She was enchanting. Regina, her name was.”
“Regina Johnson?” Alessande asked.
“Yes,” Greg said. “I can’t believe you know her. I met her several months ago, right when I was trying to get the project going. I was infatuated. She read the play and said she loved it, so I had her read for me.
“I told her that the decision on whom to cast wasn’t going to be mine and that there would be auditions, but I had hoped she’d do an official reading. But then...I lost touch with her.”
Alessande stared at him. “She’s missing, Greg. That’s why you haven’t heard from her. You know that Mark and Brodie are cops—they’re looking for her, along with half the LAPD. If by any chance you
“Missing,” he said. Then his eyes widened. “Oh, no! Those two women who were murdered, they were actresses, too, and—oh, my God. They looked like her.”
Alessande nodded.
“You have to find her!” he said.
“We will, Greg. We will,” she promised.
She hurried back to the table, where Brodie was leading a silly toast to Mark. The minute he finished, she leaned in and told them what she had just learned.
Mark slipped an arm around her shoulders. “That confirms her connection to the film, which is great, but it doesn’t get us any closer to finding her. But tomorrow—”
“We’ll flush them out,” she finished for him.
“And it will also be the best day of my life,” he declared.
Father Lars Gunderson appeared to be quite calm, a notable achievement, seeing as they had filled him in on the circumstances. The only thing that had upset him at the beginning was his impression that he would be staging a sham wedding.
But then Mark had assured him that he wouldn’t be faking the wedding, which was going to be 100 percent real.
The thought made Mark tremble.
He knew beyond a doubt that he’d been waiting for Alessande all his life. That seeing someone as he saw her, needing someone as he needed her, being happy just to share a room—not to mention a bed—with her, was what he had waited all these years to know, to have. He loved her, plain and simple, and he wanted to marry her, to have children with her, to see what traits they might carry, what talents they might or might not have.
