“Do you read me, Everett?” Static sputtered from Tom Swanson’s walkie-talkie.
“Everett here,” came back the choppy reply.
“Security’s been breached,” Swanson barked into the black handset. “The stalker is in the compound.”
Lightning streaked across the sky, and the lights in Eve’s villa flickered. She gasped and hugged herself, trying to stop shivering,
“He’s been in Miss Hamel’s purse. Alert compound security and double-back here pronto.”
“Will do.”
A clap of thunder startled Eve. She eyed the table lamps, willing them to stay lit.
“Tom, we have to warn Monique and the others,” she urged as he turned back to her, his jaw tight. “I’ll call them... but please don’t leave me alone.”
Swanson nodded, his eyes light and cool. “I’m staying right here, Miss Hamel. You’ll be perfectly safe. From this moment on, I don’t leave your side.”
Eve’s fingers trembled so much, she could hardly dial Monique’s room.
“Monique,” she began with a strange, flat calm. “I can’t believe what’s happening. Nico—Nico’s gone. And Billy Shears is here—he’s in the resort.” Near-hysterical laughter almost overcame her then.
“He’s going to kill me, Monique. As if what Nico did wasn’t enough.” The panic started to take hold. “He’s going to finish me off, I feel it...” Gently, Tom Swanson took the phone from her and spoke to Monique in a controlled, rapid manner, his ice-chip eyes scanning Eve’s lanai and the surrounding landscape all the while.
“I’m bringing you to Ms. D’Arcy’s villa,” he told Eve when he had finished with Monique. “He won’t expect that—he’ll come here first, and when he does, we’ll be ready for him.”
She nodded, but she felt with dread certainty that Billy Shears would find her no matter where she tried to hide.
Five minutes later Eve tumbled into Monique’s arms, whispering, “I don’t understand. How could he have gotten in here?”
“It doesn’t matter. They’ll get him, Evie B. Or I will. Nothing is going to interfere with this shoot.” Monique tried to joke, but it fell flat. She saw Swanson roll his eyes as he headed into the master bedroom to begin his sweep through her quarters. So I’m no Jay Leno—but if I don’t keep my sense of humor, I’ll never get through this.
She led Eve to the sofa and gently settled her amid the pillows. “I’m fixing you a drink.”
But Eve shook her head as Monique began to slosh ice and scotch into a tumbler.
“No booze for me.”
“Come on, sweetie, it’ll help calm you down—”
“I’m pregnant.”
Monique stared at her, dumbfounded. “Oh, Eve—that’s wonderful...” Her voice trailed off at the stricken look in Eve’s glazed eyes. “Isn’t it?” she finished uncertainly, setting down the bottle of scotch and hurrying back to the sofa.
Eve was staring straight ahead, her arms limp at her sides.
“I won’t let Billy Shears hurt my baby,” she vowed, so low Monique had to strain to hear.
Monique exchanged grim glances with Tom Swanson as he returned to the living room.
“Of course not,” she continued soothingly, “no one is going to hurt you or the baby. Eve, for God’s sake, where is Nico?”
“Who the hell cares?”
“Sweetie,” Monique said carefully, “you’re not making any sense.”
“I don’t know how to make sense out of my fiancé sleeping with my sister. Do you?”
Monique’s eyes widened. “No,” she breathed. An image of Nico kissing Eve under the waterfall while Antonio snapped away flared bright in her mind. Then she saw him helping her across the flower strewn bridge, carrying her over the mock honeymoon threshold... They were so obviously in love. He couldn’t have been acting. “Eve, come on, are you sure?”
“I found her earring. It was in his robe. He admitted the whole thing not more than an hour ago.” Eve’s face was drawn and ashen, the color of oatmeal. She forced a feeble smile and a shrug. “I guess this just isn’t my day, Monique.”
Then she crumpled into sobs.
While Swanson surveyed the rain-swept grounds from the window, Monique held Eve, stroking her hair, murmuring gently, her mind racing.
Teri’s all alone—Brian’s off with Tamburelli. My God, I’ve got to get her over here and make certain the Hawaiian authorities are taking this seriously. Where the hell is everybody? I want this place sealed tighter than a drum—all my people curfewed in their villas under guard until this nut is caught.
She put Alfie in charge of alerting her staff. Swanson made the other calls—to Teri, to security, to the local police. And to Maxine Goodman in New York. But Maxine was out of the office and he was forced to leave an urgent message.
“Eve, you’re staying put for the night,” Monique announced when Swanson had finished his series of calls. She knew she’d get no argument. While Swanson checked in with Everett on the walkie-talkie, she tucked a light cotton coverlet over Eve and put up a pot of tea. Then she flung a rain slicker over her red terry-cloth romper.
“When I get back with Teri we’ll have a pajama party.”
“Well, don’t bother renting a horror movie,” Eve muttered. “We’ve got one in progress.”
That makes two of us trying to keep our sense of humor, Monique reflected. Never mind that I’m losing my June issue.
What the hell am I going to do without Eve Hamel and Nico Caeserone?
“Listen, Evie B,” Monique said bracingly as she carried steaming cinnamon tea to the sofa. “Swanson and I have everything worked out. I’m going with a security guard to get Teri and then we’ll swing by your room for your stuff. We’ll be back before you can say Kaanapali.”
Eve hated for her to leave at all, but she said only, “Don’t be long, Monique. Please.”
After Monique had gone, Eve stared into her steaming teacup. Stop acting like a baby. You’ve got plenty of protection.
Still she couldn’t help shivering as Tom Swanson checked his revolver and spoke alternately with Dean Everett and the compound security chief on his walkie-talkie.
It occurred to her that she had blurted out all the sordid details of her breakup with Nico in front of Tom Swanson. Oh, God, he’d even been just outside the doorway during their fight—he had to have heard that too.
Great. She knew practically nothing about the man except that he had a wife and three little kids waiting for him in New Jersey. And he knew everything about her—the most hurtful secrets of her life. Yet he’d given no sign of having overheard any personal conversations. He went on about the business of protecting her with cool professional detachment, which was comforting and face-saving for them both.
“Everett’s found no evidence so far of an intruder in the compound,” Tom informed her, shoving the walkie-talkie into his belt clip. “Neither has security. The local authorities are on top of the situation, Miss Hamel. Everything is under control.”
Eve gulped her tea.
Everything except my life.
* * *
The security guard used his master key to unlock Eve’s villa and preceded Teri and Monique inside. While they waited uneasily in the entrance foyer, he made a quick check of the rooms.
Teri paced nervously in the small space. She had just ended a phone call with Andrew in LA when the call had come through about this “emergency.” One minute she was hearing about Adam’s delight at the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, and the next she was listening to Tom Swanson curtly instruct her to pack an overnight bag and prepare to spend the night in Monique D’Arcy’s villa. Monique had explained briefly what was going on, but Teri couldn’t absorb it all. The idea of a deranged stalker on the loose was too bizarre, and the storm added Hitchcockian special effects that seemed larger than life. She wished Brian were back from the Big Island. She wished she were back in Livonia, polishing Mrs. Warnler’s nails.
She wished Monique had warned them.
“Why didn’t you tell us what was going on?” she demanded, spinning toward Monique. “I think we had a right to know.”
“No one expected the worst-case scenario, Teri—or that any of us would be in danger. Every possible security precaution was taken, and the odds of this happening were so remote that there seemed no point in worrying everyone and violating Eve’s privacy...”
It took Monique three attempts before her cigarette lighter caught. She exhaled a long stream of smoke and peered down the hallway where the security guard had disappeared. “Besides, we couldn’t be safer if we were in FBI headquarters—there’s enough policemen around here to start our own precinct.”
Teri bit her lip as the security guard lumbered back. Her rain spattered silk shirt and walking shorts clung to her skin, chilling her in the air-conditioned room. She wished she’d changed into jeans and a sweatshirt.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here,” he reported. “You ladies grab what you need and I’ll get you back to the other villa ASAP.”
“Start in the bathroom,” Monique directed Teri. “Just throw her stuff into this tote, and I’ll find her nightclothes and some sweats. The sooner we get out of here, the better.”
“Hey, sweetie,” she added, noting Teri’s pinched white face, “don’t worry so much. We’ll all live happily ever after. Guaranteed.”
“I know.” Teri swallowed. She squared her shoulders and headed toward the bathroom. “But this is giving me the creeps.”
“Tell me about it,” Monique muttered, and yanked open the walk-in closet door.
Dean Everett crouched inside, the muscles of his face drawn in a taut grimace, his gun pointed in a very businesslike way at her head.
Monique shrieked at the top of her lungs until she recognized him.
The security guard bounded into the bedroom, gun drawn. Wide-eyed, heart thudding, Teri peeped around him from the bathroom door.
Monique gave a nervous laugh, half frustration, half annoyance, her heart banging like a drum in her chest.
“You scared the shit out of me, Mr. Everett. Don’t point that thing at me. I’m not the stalker.”
Everett stood up and lowered his gun. “Sorry, Miss D’Arcy.” He was silent as Teri hurried forward, clutching toiletries and makeup. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Or you either, Miss Mathews. I heard a muffled noise and thought I might have surprised our suspect.”
“Well, did you find anything?” Teri asked.
Monique frowned. Didn’t you hear our voices, you idiot? she wanted to demand, but at that moment the phone rang.
“Don’t touch that,” Everett ordered as Teri reached for the phone. “If that’s Billy Shears, let him think the place is empty.”
Suddenly the whirr of the answering machine clicked on and Maxine Goodman’s crisp voice blared into the bedroom. Dean Everett whirled in the direction of the sound.
“Eve. Swanson. It’s Maxine. This is a dire emergency. Your lives are in danger. Dean Everett has been found dead in LA. All his ID was missing. Do you understand? Your Dean Everett is an impostor—we have to operate on the assumption he’s Billy Shears. My next call is to hotel security and the Maui police. Use extreme caution. I’m taking the next flight out.”
Then everything happened simultaneously.
Teri dropped the toiletries with a gasp and stared in stunned horror at the face of Eve’s bodyguard.
Monique froze, aghast, her eyes locked with those of “Dean Everett.”
Dean Everett, who had been a guest on Richard’s yacht. Who had danced with Mimi. Who had helped clear the pool deck in preparation for the shoot.
Who had been tormenting Eve with such calculated cruelty for months.
The security guard whipped out his gun, but not quickly enough.
Everett fired two rapid shots.
The first cut short the security guard’s terse “freeze” warning and hit him squarely between the eyes.
Monique heard a gargled moan as the guard fell in slow motion to the floor, the red stain widening silently around him like spilled wine.
The second sharp blast ricocheted off the mirrored teakwood bureau and ended in an agonizing scream.
Monique gagged on the smell of death and gunpowder and gaped in helpless terror at the blood spurting through Teri’s fingers. Oh, God. Teri was clutching her shoulder, shrinking against the blood-splattered wall, her eyes fixed incredulously on her attacker.
This can’t be happening, Teri thought. A blue wall of pain blinded her. She was cold. So cold. Adam. There was Adam on Andrew’s lap, sledding down the hill. Laughing.
“Poor little boy,” she gasped aloud.
Dean Everett glared at her. “Shut up.”
My poor little baby. You lost your mother once. And now you’re losing her for good. But your father will love you. You belong with him. You belong with Andrew... Andrew...
Cold blue darkness swallowed her. Like the Detroit-to-Windsor tunnel. She was going through the tunnel with Brian. They were going to spend the day picnicking along the waterfront in Windsor.
Brian.
Brian held out his hand to her. It’s cold in here, and so dark. Brian, we’re lost.
Monique gasped as Teri crumpled to the floor. Stay in control, she willed herself. Don’t lose it now. Don’t panic, she repeated to herself in a silent mantra. Her breaths came in icy, rapid gulps. Slowly, her eyes riveted on the man she knew as Dean Everett, she made her way to the corner where Teri huddled.
“Lie down on the floor next to her,” Everett said in a mechanical voice.
“Can’t you see she needs a doctor...” Monique began.
“Now, Miss D’Arcy. On the floor. Don’t make me hurt you too.”
“Teri, I’ll help you.” Monique touched the girl’s lily-white cheek with shaking fingers. “Hang in there. Don’t leave me,” she urged, staring over at the frighteningly still form beside her, as if willing lifeblood back into the girl. Blood gushed from Teri’s wound in a ribbon of liquid crimson.
Monique flung a desperate glance at Everett.
“Let me get a towel and stop the bleeding,” she begged. “It will take only a minute. Then I’ll do whatever you say.”
“I can’t wait another minute.” He smiled dreamily at her. “I’ve waited long enough. I have to go to Eve.”
Monique recoiled from the madness in his eyes. She couldn’t believe this was the same stolid-looking young man who’d been with them all during the shoot. Before, he had appeared so normal, so ordinary. So average he was almost invisible in a crowd, with his medium height, side-parted brown hair, brown eyes, and clean-cut Boy Scout features.
The kind of person you’d pass on the street and never notice. The kind of guy who’d order a hamburger medium-rare every day for lunch, who spotlessly shined his shoes each Sunday before going to church, who shoveled his neighbor’s walk and tossed a football on the lawn with the kids down the block. An ordinary, nice-looking, nondescript guy whose only quirk was that he killed people.
With pounding heart she avoided looking toward the dead security guard sprawled a few feet away on the once-pristine carpet, and instead focused on Teri. She was unconscious. Only unconscious, Monique told herself. Not dead.
Where the hell are Maui’s finest? Didn’t Maxine get through?
She groped frantically for Teri’s pulse, even as she saw Everett unbuckle his belt.
What now? Rape? she wondered, gritting her teeth. Over my dead body.
But she should have known it was only Eve he coveted.
Methodically, he tied their arms behind their backs with his belt and the sash of Eve’s bathrobe. Monique was grateful that Teri couldn’t feel the biting agony.
When they were securely trussed, Monique felt him tugging at her jump suit. “What the hell are you doing?”
He didn’t answer, but moved away to stoop over the guard with a slashing movement. Monique saw the glint of metal in his hands.
Then he straightened and stared at Monique, his head cocked to one side.
“You worked her so hard. So hard. ‘Eve, do this.’ ‘Eve, do that.’ You shouldn’t have done that. You’ll have to pay for being mean to her, Miss D’Arcy. I’ll come back for you. But first I have to take care of my Eve. She’s been waiting so long. And I promised, you know. I promised.”
He walked out without a backward glance, leaving the door flapping in the wind. Gale-driven rain splayed into the room, bringing with it the damp, rich smell of eucalyptus, moist earth, and the Pacific.
Monique felt Teri’s blood dampening the carpet beneath her chest. She fought back a wave of faintness.
Tough as Cool Whip. Pete’s teasing words came starkly back to her. You’re wrong, Mr. Lambert. I’m tougher than you think. And I’m going to live long enough to prove it to you.
* * *
Eve startled at the crackle of the walkie-talkie on Swanson’s belt. Where were Monique and Teri? she wondered uneasily. It shouldn’t be taking this long. But Tom Swanson appeared unconcerned even as he told her that Everett had radioed him for assistance outside.
“Everett says Miss Mathews twisted her leg running back here, and they need me to help carry her.” He started toward the door. “They’re right outside. I’ll be gone only a second.”