Silent Night 3
Author: R. L. Stine
Date: 1996-12-01 08:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror; Young Adult; Thriller; Mystery; Childrens
Description: Has Reva been a good girl this year? Rich, snobby Reva Dalby wants a little fame for Christmas. And since her daddy owns Dalby's Department Store, she can have whatever she wants. Someone else will always pay. Except this year Reva goes too far. Now someone is watching her. When she's sleeping, and when she's awake...until she's dead.
Publisher: Archway

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Contents

Part One

Chapter 1: Terror for Reva’s Guest

Chapter 2: “Don’t Answer the Phone!”

Chapter 3: A “Misunderstanding”

Chapter 4: Night Terrors

Chapter 5: More Night Terrors

Chapter 6: A Late Visitor

Chapter 7: Surprise!

Chapter 8: Bad News

Chapter 9: “Reva won’t get away with This!”

Chapter 10: Death Threat

Chapter 11: “Help Me—Please!”

Chapter 12: A Broken Mannequin

Part Two

Chapter 13: Who Killed Traci?

Chapter 14: “Reva Should Die Next”

Chapter 15: Phone Calls

Chapter 16: The Murdered

Chapter 17: Lost in the Snow

Chapter 18: Bad News from Dad

Chapter 19: Another Frightening Call

Chapter 20: A Problem at the Scarf Show

Part Three

Chapter 21: Where is Rory?

Chapter 22: “Reva—Get Help!”

Chapter 23: Reva Cannot Escape

Chapter 24: “Kill her, Rory!”

Chapter 25: “You Murdered Reva!”

Chapter 26: A Bad Mistake

Chapter 27: A Christmas Present

About the Author

PART ONE

Chapter 1

TERROR FOR REVA’S GUEST

Reva Dalby tapped her red nails on the armrest of the cab and waited impatiently for the traffic light to change. The driver could have made it through the yellow. It was just her luck to get a cautious driver, afraid of a little ice on the road.

The light finally changed to green. The driver eased the cab forward and headed into North Hills, the wealthy section of Shadyside where Reva lived.

When he turned into Reva’s driveway, she let out a sigh of relief.

Finally! After twelve weeks in that cell Smith College calls a dorm room, I’m finally home!

My own private room, with a phone. A bathroom all to myself. No disgusting cafeteria food for almost a month. No early-morning classes. No roommate.

Well, not exactly, Reva corrected herself, glancing at the short, brown-haired girl sitting next to her in the backseat of the cab.

Grace Morton was her roommate at college, and Reva had invited her home for the Christmas break. But Grace would stay in one of the guest rooms, naturally. Reva would have plenty of privacy.

“Quite a house,” the cab driver commented, pulling to a stop.

“It’s beautiful, Reva,” Grace told her.

“Mmm,” Reva agreed. She climbed out of the cab and gazed at the big stone house with satisfaction. A large evergreen wreath with a red bow hung from the front door, and small electric candles glowed in the windows.

“You know what Christmas decoration would look good on that roof?” the driver asked as he hauled their luggage out of the trunk.

“No, but I’m absolutely dying to,” Reva replied sarcastically.

“Santa and his reindeer,” the driver told her. “One of those big displays with flashing lights, you know?”

Reva rolled her eyes. Flashing lights were so tacky. “Thanks for the decorating tip,” she said, stuffing some bills into the driver’s outstretched hand. “Very original.”

“Reva, you didn’t tip him!” Grace whispered as the driver climbed back into the cab, shaking his head.

Reva laughed. “He’ll get over it.”

She laughed again as the driver, angrily, gunned the engine and peeled away. “Maybe that’ll teach him to keep his tacky opinions to himself.”

Grace looked shocked. “But it’s Christmas.”

Reva shrugged. “So I’ll donate his tip to charity, okay? Come on, let’s go inside. No. Leave the bags. That’s what maids are for.”

Eager to escape the cold December wind, Reva hurried up the steps and pushed open the front door.

The foyer was empty.

As Reva led Grace across the marble floor toward the stairs, a piercing shriek echoed through the quiet house. Then footsteps pounded down the stairs and a small figure leaped onto the foyer floor, landing at Grace’s feet.

Grace gasped and shrank back.

Reva frowned. “Michael!” she cried to her eight-year-old brother. “You scared us!”

“I’m not Michael!” Michael bellowed. “I’m The Evil Avenger! The most powerful ninja assassin in the world!”

His blue eyes gleaming with menace, Michael slashed at the air with his hands and went into a crouch. Slowly, he began stalking Grace.

Grace backed away nervously.

Before Reva could stop him, Michael spun around and kicked his foot straight up, missing Grace’s chin by an inch.

“Michael!” Reva shrieked. She dove across the floor and grabbed his arm. “You almost kicked her in the face!”

Michael twisted away from her, laughing. “And I could have, too!” he exclaimed, still slashing his hands through the air. “I meant to miss, dummy. If I wanted to, I would have knocked her head off!”

Reva took a deep breath and turned to Grace. Grace watched Michael warily, her round face drained of color. “Michael, this is my roommate from college, Grace Morton. She’s going to spend the Christmas holiday with us.”

“I’m not Michael!” Michael repeated. He whirled around and kicked his leg out again. “I’m the Avenger, get it? The Evil Avenger!” With one final kick, he raced up the stairs.

Reva took another deep breath. “Wow. Dad wasn’t kidding, I guess.”

“Kidding about what?” Grace sat down on the bottom step as if her legs couldn’t hold her up any longer.

“He said Michael has been acting out these violent scenes lately,” Reva explained. “Dad thinks it’s because of my kidnapping.” She shivered, remembering the horror of last Christmas, when she thought she was going to die at the hands of kidnappers. “Anyway, he’s worried about Michael.”

“I can see why.” Grace bit her lip and glanced around nervously. Then she jumped up and grabbed Reva’s arm.

“What is it?” Reva asked impatiently. Was Grace going to totally fall apart, just because a little kid had scared her?

“Someone’s at the door!” Grace cried.

The front door opened and Reva spun around. One of the maids entered, carrying two of the girls’ duffel bags. Behind her, carrying two more bags, came a trim, handsome man with silver-flecked black hair.

“Daddy!” Reva cried. Brushing past the maid, she ran to her father and hugged him tightly.

“When I drove up and saw the suitcases outside, I knew my college girl was home!” Robert Dalby said. He dropped the luggage and hugged Reva back. “And you must be Grace,” he added, spotting Grace over Reva’s shoulder. “Welcome to the Dalby house.”

Grace smiled and shook his hand. Reva kept her arm around his waist as they all walked into the living room. “Daddy, you don’t know how glad I am to be home!” She kissed his cheek, then collapsed onto one of the soft velvet couches. “I thought the first term would never end!”

Mr. Dalby chuckled and sat in one of the easy chairs. “Are they working you pretty hard there, girls?”

“It’s a lot harder than I expected,” Grace replied, sitting next to Reva. “Don’t you think so, Reva?”

Reva yawned. “The classes are mainly boring. And the girls are so tacky and immature. I’d be embarrassed to bring any of them home. Except for Grace, I mean.”

“Maybe you should send them to Dalby’s for a makeover,” her father suggested, chuckling again. Robert Dalby was the owner of Dalby’s, an expensive, upscale department store in Shadyside and other cities around the country. “Speaking of the store,” he added to Reva. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in working there this Christmas?”

“No way,” Reva replied.

“I could really use the help, and you could pick up a little extra spending money,” her father pleaded.

“I don’t need any extra spending money,” Reva told him. She sighed and leaned her head against the back of the couch. “I couldn’t take another season of those tacky women bursting out of their stretch pants. It’s too hard not to laugh in their faces.”

“They’re our bread and butter, honey,” Mr. Dalby pointed out.

“Sure, but I don’t have to like them, do I?” Laughing, Reva jumped up. “Come on, Grace, I’ll show you to your room. It has a private bath, with a Jacuzzi. You’ll love it.”

Reva planted a kiss on her father’s cheek, then took Grace upstairs to one of the guest rooms. Grace’s bags were already set neatly by the four-poster bed. “The maid must be unpacking my stuff,” Reva commented. “I’ll send her in to you after she’s finished.”

“Don’t bother,” Grace told her. “I’d feel funny having somebody unpack my clothes for me.”

Reva shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll see you in a little while for dinner.” Closing the door, she strode down the hall to her own room.

The maid stood in front of the big, walk-in closet, putting a blue silk blouse on a padded hanger.

“Do you need glasses? Didn’t you see the stain on the front of that?” Reva snapped. “It needs to be cleaned.”

“Sorry, Miss,” the maid gulped. She took the blouse off the hanger and draped it over her arm. “I didn’t notice.”

“Obviously.” Reva frowned, then went to her dresser and began to brush her hair. She smiled at her reflection. Wavy red hair, creamy white skin, and ice-blue eyes.

The frown returned as she noticed the maid behind her, going back and forth between the closet and the bed. Honestly, couldn’t Daddy get someone with a little bit of style? This one slumped, and her hair looked like gray straw.

“Ever hear of conditioner?” Reva muttered.

“Excuse me?” the maid replied. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Never mind. Just talking to myself,” Reva said.

“If you don’t need me any more, Miss, I’ll go help with dinner,” the maid said.

“Be my guest.” When the maid had left, Reva showered quickly. She changed into black wool pants and a burgundy satin blouse. She fluffed her hair with her fingers, then went back to Grace’s room.

Reva rapped once with her knuckles, then opened the door.

Grace sat on the bed, holding the telephone so tightly her knuckles were white.

Seeing Reva, she glanced up.

Reva gasped.

Terror filled Grace’s brown eyes.

“Grace, what is it?” Reva asked. “What’s wrong?”

Grace put her hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s Rory,” she whispered in a shaky voice. “He—he knows I’m here! I’m so scared, Reva! How did he find me?”

Chapter 2

“DON’T ANSWER
THE PHONE!”

“I just don’t understand!” Grace whispered, trembling. “How did Rory know I’d be here?”

Reva rolled her eyes. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this one out. “You must have slipped up and told him.”

Grace shook her head. “I didn’t!” she protested hoarsely.

“Well, then, you told one of the other girls in the dorm,” Reva said impatiently. “And she let him know.”

“No, I didn’t say a word to any . . .” Grace suddenly took her hand off the mouthpiece of the phone. “Please, Rory!” she pleaded. “Just leave me alone. No. No, I don’t want to see you. No! Please. Don’t come here. I mean it, Rory. Don’t come here. I’ll call the police. I really will!”

As Grace continued to plead with Rory, Reva crossed the room and sat in the floral-patterned armchair by the window. Gazing out at the snow-covered grounds, she tuned out Grace’s conversation and thought back to that day in the dorm when she had first heard about Rory Givens. . . .

She’d been curled up on her uncomfortable bed, trying to study for a French exam, when Grace suddenly burst into the room. Grace slammed the door and leaned against it, gasping for breath.

“Going out for the track team?” Reva asked, glancing up at Grace’s flushed face.

“I think . . . I saw . . .” Grace swallowed, still gasping. Then she turned and began fumbling at the lock on the door.

“The lock is broken,” Reva reminded her. “And what is the matter with you? What did you see?”

“Not what—who,” Grace replied shakily.

“Okay. Who.” Reva pushed her French notes aside. “Tell me,” she demanded.

Grace took a deep breath. “I saw Rory. He was standing outside the library when I came out. At least, I think it was him. I can’t be totally sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised. This is exactly the kind of thing he would do!”

“Whoa!” Reva held up her hand. “Start at the beginning, would you? Who’s Rory?”

“That’s right—I haven’t told you.” Pushing herself away from the door, Grace crossed the room and sat at the foot of Reva’s bed. “Rory Givens is my boyfriend.” She shook her head. “Make that was my boyfriend.”

“What happened?” Reva asked.

“He’s crazy, that’s what happened!” Grace replied with a shudder. “Crazy and jealous and totally possessive! I mean, if I even looked at another guy, Rory would go ballistic.” She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “So I broke up with him.”

Reva snorted. “Well, I hope so!”

“It was awful,” Grace continued with a shudder. “Rory said he’d never let me go, and he was so furious! I thought I’d never seen him so angry. But then, a couple of weeks later, I ran into his brother Terry. Terry is totally different—quiet and kind of shy. Anyway, he gave me a ride home from the mall. After he drove off, I went up onto the porch. And Rory was waiting.”

“Uh oh.”

Grace nodded again. “That’s when I realized how crazy Rory really was. He looked as if he wanted to kill me, Reva! He said I had ruined his life and he’d pay me back if it was the last thing he ever did. And then, and then—he beat me up!”

Reva gasped.

“He threw me down on the ground and pounded me with his fists. My checks were cut. I was all bruised. “Even now I get nightmares about it.”

Reva gritted her teeth. “If some guy did that to me, I’d have him in jail so fast he wouldn’t have time to blink.”

“Well, my parents did have Rory arrested,” Grace went on. “But he didn’t spend any time in jail or anything. And he kept calling me. Sending me threatening notes. Sneaking up on me in school and following me home. I couldn’t wait for the summer to end so I could go to college. I thought once I got to Smith, everything would be over.”

“Obviously everything is not over, not if you saw this creep outside the library!”

“Well, I’m not sure it was Rory,” Grace said. “But even if it wasn’t, it’s just a matter of time. He’s called me here at Smith, too. And I got another threatening note from him last week. He said he hasn’t finished paying me back yet . . .!”

Now, Reva gazed across the guest room at Grace, who was still on the phone, trying to convince Rory to leave her alone.

Fat chance, Reva thought. Grace sounded weak and whiny. Not exactly the kind of attitude to scare somebody like Rory Givens off.

Reva sighed. Why had she invited Grace home for the holiday? Holidays were supposed to be fun and relaxing. The last thing she wanted was trouble from somebody’s freaked-out ex-boyfriend!

Of course, Grace had been afraid to go home. Afraid of Rory. That’s why Reva had invited her.

Reva smiled tightly as Grace finally hung up the phone. Maybe I’ll get a Humanitarian Award for this, she thought. “So, did you tell him where to get off?” she asked.

“I tried.” Grace’s brown eyes were huge in her pale face, and her voice shook. “He’s worse than ever, Reva! He’s still so bitter and furious. I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do!”

Go home, Reva thought coldly.

Now there was an idea. Maybe she could make up some kind of excuse—a ski-trip she’d forgotten about or some last-minute guests who’d take up every spare room. Or she could come down with a horrible case of the flu. Anything to get Grace and her problem out of here.

The ski-trip, Reva decided. So sorry, Grace, but I can’t pass up a chance to go to Aspen! I know you understand.

The phone rang, and Reva rose from the chair to answer it. Maybe she could pretend it was someone calling to remind her about the ski trip.

Reva reached for the receiver.

“No!” Grace slammed her hand over the telephone. “Don’t answer it!”

“What do you mean?” Reva cried.

“Don’t answer it!” Grace repeated, fear in her eyes. She tightened her hand over the ringing phone. “It’s Rory again! I know it is!”

Chapter 3

A “MISUNDERSTANDING”

“Come on, Reva, pick up!” Pam Dalby, Reva’s cousin, sat across town in her family’s ramshackle house on Fear Street and listened to the ringing telephone. “Come on!”

“Maybe she isn’t there,” Pam’s friend, Willow Sorenson, suggested.

“She’s there,” Pam said grimly. “I know she got home today. Why won’t she pick up the stupid phone?”

Willow shrugged and popped open a can of diet soda. “Doesn’t she have a servant or something that could pick up for her?” she asked.

“No way,” Pam answered. “No one but Reva’s allowed to pick up the phone when she’s home. The servants would get their heads handed to them if they tried.”

“Maybe you dialed the wrong number,” Willow offered. “Hang up and try again.”

Pam shook her head. She knew she hadn’t dialed wrong. Her cousin Reva just wasn’t answering.

It’s like she knows it’s me and she’s getting her kicks by pretending not to be there, Pam thought angrily. Well, two can play this game. I’ll just let it ring until Reva goes nuts and finally picks up just to stop it.

Leaning back in the lumpy easy chair, Pam tucked the phone against her shoulder. She picked up a long, cherry-red scarf that was draped over the chair’s arm.

Reva owes me a favor, she thought, running the scarf through her hands. She has got to come through this time.

Pam glanced around the living room. It needed painting, the furniture was all worn, and patches of floor showed through the threadbare rug. But fixing up the house was a luxury her family couldn’t afford.

So was college.

Pam sighed. Why couldn’t her side of the Dalby family be the rich ones?

She’d been accepted to a couple of colleges. But her grades weren’t good enough for a scholarship. To earn tuition money, she had taken a job in the Acme Insurance Company, typing and filing. Willow worked there, too, and they became friends.

“Hey!” Willow broke into Pam’s thoughts. “How long are you going to let that thing ring, anyway?”

“As long as it takes.”

Willow shook her head, then unwrapped a stick of gum and folded it into her mouth. The tiny gold hoop in her left nostril wiggled and glinted as she chewed.

Willow kept urging Pam to get her nose pierced, too. But Pam wasn’t sure she wanted to. It was okay for Willow. It seemed to go with her short, brassy blond hair and the tiny orange lightning bolt tattooed above her right collarbone.

Pam glanced at her own reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. Bright green eyes. Long blond hair pulled into a ponytail. A round, friendly face. The kind you saw in an ad for down-home cooking or handmade quilts. A nose-ring just didn’t seem to fit.

The phone kept ringing. “Pick up!” Pam urged. She twisted the red scarf around her hands. “I’ll strangle you with this if you don’t pick up, Reva!”

“This is getting ridiculous,” Willow muttered, snapping her gum impatiently. “Why don’t you—”

“Wait, I think somebody’s answering!” Pam interrupted, sitting up in the chair. First she heard a muffled whisper. Then finally, Reva said hello, sounding annoyed.

“Hi, Reva. It’s Pam.”

“Pam?” Reva actually sounded confused for a second. “Oh—Pam. Hang on a second.”

More muffled whispering, then Reva came back on the line. “Hi. I was just talking to my roommate, Grace. She’s spending the holiday with me.”

“That’s nice. I called to welcome you home,” Pam told her. “How’s Smith?”

“Please, don’t even mention college to me.” Reva sighed loudly. “It’s totally boring!”

“Really? I thought college life would be so much fun,” Pam said.

“You thought wrong,” Reva replied. “We actually have a curfew. We have to sign in and out of the dorm. Can you believe it? They treat us like babies. You’re lucky you’re in the real world, Pam.”

Sure, Pam thought bitterly. Like I had a choice.

“I mean, you’re working, making money, meeting people, having business lunches,” Reva continued.

Right. Five dollars an hour and a bologna sandwich from home. Pam bit her lip and forced herself not to snap at Reva. It was hard, though. Reva knew how much Pam wanted to go to college. She always enjoyed sticking a knife in someone’s sore spot.

“Well, listen, speaking of business,” Pam said, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” She smoothed the scarf across her legs. It was beautiful—a soft, silky wool scarf, silkscreened with delicate golden snowflakes.

“You want to talk about business?” Reva asked skeptically. “What business?”

“My friend, Willow Sorenson—she works at the same place I do,” Pam continued. “Anyway, we took a crafts course together and we made something for Christmas.”

“Handmade gifts. How . . . charming.”

Pam ignored the sneer in Reva’s voice. “We didn’t make them to give away,” she said. “We want to sell them. And we thought maybe your father could put them in his stores.”

Reva cleared her throat. “Actually, Pam, Daddy doesn’t sell clay pots at Dalby’s.”

Pam gritted her teeth. Reva was such a snob. “It’s not clay pots,” she said, keeping the anger out of her voice. “Listen, how about if Willow and I drive over to your house?”

“Now?”

“We’ll only stay ten minutes,” Pam assured her. “We’re really anxious to show these to you.”

“Well, okay. Sure, why not? You can meet my roommate, Grace,” Reva said.

“Great! Thanks, Reva. We’ll be right over.” Pam hung up and jumped from the chair. “Come on. Let’s get going,” she said to Willow.

“The princess actually agreed to see us, huh?” Willow asked sarcastically.

Pam nodded as she and Willow began gathering the long scarves from the coffee table and carefully folding them into shopping bags. “I wish we didn’t have to talk to her at all,” she declared. “But Reva’s father does almost anything she asks. And if she likes our scarves, then Uncle Robert will definitely take them. Reva is our best chance.”

Willow picked up a bag and grabbed her car keys. Pam took the other bag and followed her out the door. They climbed into Willow’s battered blue VW Rabbit and drove down Fear Street.

“Where does she live?” Willow asked.

“North Hills,” Pam told her. “Where else?”

“Very fancy,” Willow commented. “I always wondered what it would be like to live there.”

Pam grinned. “If we make a bundle on these scarves, maybe you’ll get a chance to find out.”

“Yeah!” Willow agreed. “Hey, and if the scarves are a hit, people will want more of our designs. Not only scarves, but clothes, too!”

“We could actually start our own design company,” Pam agreed excitedly. “We’d be the designers and hire people to do the work for us.”

“And we’d never have to set foot in the Acme Insurance office again,” Willow added with a laugh. “I can’t wait to kiss that place good-bye. Let’s hope your cousin really likes the scarves.”

“She will,” Pam assured her. “If there’s one good thing about Reva, it’s her taste.”

Five minutes later, the girls pulled to a stop in the curved drive in front of the Dalby mansion. Chatting excitedly about everything they’d do with the money their scarves would bring in, they carried the shopping bags to the front door and pushed the bell.

Pam smoothed a strand of hair back, wishing she’d taken the time to brush it out. Being at Reva’s house always made her feel slightly grubby.

Stop thinking like that, she told herself. Reva is no better than you are. She just has more money.

After a moment, a maid pulled the door open slightly and peered out at them. “Yes?”

“Hi. Remember me? I’m Pam, Reva’s cousin,” Pam told her. “She’s expecting us.” She picked up her shopping bag and waited for the maid to pull the door all the way open.

But the maid didn’t move. “I’m sorry. There must be some mistake,” she said.

“What do you mean?” Pam asked.

“I mean Miss Dalby isn’t home.”

“What? I just talked to her ten minutes ago,” Pam protested. “She knew we were coming.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” the maid informed her. “All I know is that Miss Dalby and her friend left five minutes ago.”

“But she told us to come over!” Pam insisted.

The maid shook her head. “Maybe you misunderstood her. I’ll be sure to tell her you were here.” She closed the door, leaving Pam and Willow alone on the cold stone porch.

Willow tossed her head. “Looks like the princess had something more important to do than talk to us.”

“Right.” Pam’s face burned with anger. “There was no ‘mistake’!” she cried, as she and Willow started back toward the car. “And I didn’t ‘misunderstand’ anything! Reva knew we were coming. She just wanted to put me in my place. Why does she always do this to me?”

Willow turned and glanced back at the mansion, her pale blue eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry,” she muttered. “We’ll find a way to pay her back.”

Pam stared at her. “What? What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Willow cracked her gum and smiled grimly. “Nothing at all.”

Chapter 4

NIGHT TERRORS

Reva stood on the main floor of Dalby’s Department Store and gazed around nervously.

I shouldn’t have come here to pick Daddy up. I should have let the driver bring him home.

The store stood empty, closed for the day. The main lights had been turned off and the dim security lights cast long shadows over the glass counters.

I shouldn’t have come here, Reva thought again. Being in the store after closing still gives me the creeps.

Turning quickly, Reva glanced behind her. No one stood there, aiming a gun, ready to kill her. It’s over, she reminded herself. The kidnapping happened a year ago.

Go upstairs and get Daddy. He’s waiting.

Reva gave herself a shake, then started across the darkened floor into the cosmetics department.

What was that noise?

Reva spun around again.

No one.

Running her hand along the cool glass of a perfume counter, Reva hurried through the cosmetics department. She crossed an aisle and began making her way past racks of winter coats and displays of sweaters.

A group of shadowy, dark-coated figures suddenly loomed up in front of her.

Gasping, Reva stumbled backward into a rack of parkas. The heavy jackets seemed to close in on her. She frantically batted at them and scrambled away.

The figures were still there.

They didn’t move or come after her. They just stared down at her with glassy eyes in their stony faces.

Glassy eyes.

Smooth, stony faces.

Mannequins.

Reva let out a shaky breath. She’d been terrified by a bunch of plastic mannequins.

Scolding herself, she continued through the clothing department.

More mannequins arranged in fashion-model poses peered down at her as she made her way toward the bank of elevators on the far wall.

When she reached it, she stopped, confused and stunned.

The elevators had disappeared.

The wall was totally solid.

What was going on? The elevators had to be here!

Reva ran her hands along the wall. No gleaming elevator doors, no shiny buttons to push.

Had she gotten turned around in the darkness?

It didn’t seem possible, but . . .

Reva gasped as a tune began to crackle from the loudspeakers.

“Silent Night.”

Reva shivered with fright. The same song had played the night of the kidnapping. The night she’d almost been killed.

And now it was playing again.

“Silent Night.”

Her heartbeat drummed in her ears. Sweat broke out on her forehead.

She had to get upstairs. Get her father. And get out of here!

The music seemed to grow louder as Reva hurried back through the clothing department toward the opposite side of the store.

Past the hovering mannequins, through the racks of coats, and back into the cosmetics department.

Find the elevators and get out of here!

The music soared. It was getting louder!

Breaking into a run, Reva knocked into a display of perfume bottles. Glass shattered on the polished floor. A sweet, overpowering scent rose into the air.

Reva kept running.

The music pounded in her ears.

Reva dashed past a display of designer makeup and raced toward the far wall.

No elevators here, either.

Where were they? How could elevators just disappear?

Frantic to get away from the music, she raced back through the cosmetics department, then turned toward the center of the store where the escalators were. They’d be turned off, of course, but at least she could climb them up to the executive offices on the sixth floor.

Huh? The escalators were gone, too.

Reva stared at the empty space, shaking her head in disbelief.

What was going on?

“Silent Night” stopped, then started again.

The music didn’t just play by itself, Reva thought. Somebody had to turn it on.

Somebody had changed the store around. Made things disappear. Made it so she couldn’t get away.

Trapped her in here!

Reva suddenly shivered as she heard movement behind her.

Creaking, groaning sounds.

And a loud thumping.

Footsteps.

Terrified, Reva spun around.

And screamed.

The mannequins! The mannequins were moving stiffly down the aisle toward her.

Alive, Reva thought. The mannequins are alive!

Their plastic limbs creaked as they came closer.

Closer.

Reva looked to her right, to her left.

More mannequins. Dressed in winter coats, in beaded evening gowns, in delicate silk lounging robes, they stalked toward her.

Screaming again, Reva backed up.

The mannequins closed in.

Surrounded her.

“Please!” Reva gasped. “Stop!”

The mannequins pressed closer.

Their faces were cold and blank.

Their glassy eyes gleamed in the dull light.

Empty eyes.

Dead eyes.

Reva tried to scream again, but the mannequins pressed even closer. She sank to her knees, felt their weight on top of her.

She couldn’t breathe!

They were smothering her!

Please! she thought. Please!

Something soft and thick filled her mouth.

I’m going to die!

Reva jerked her head aside and tried to take a deep breath.

Sweet, cool air filled her lungs. Her eyes snapped open to darkness.

Empty, quiet darkness.

No mannequins. No “Silent Night.”

No store.

A nightmare, Reva realized with relief. She shoved her thick comforter away from her face and took another deep breath.

She was in her bed, in her room.

She’d had a hideous nightmare.

Another nightmare.

So many horrible things had happened to her at the store, it was no wonder she had nightmares about it.

Pushing her damp hair off her forehead, Reva groaned and sat up.

And froze in terror as two hands grabbed her in the darkness.

Chapter 5

MORE NIGHT TERRORS

Reva screamed and rolled away. The comforter tangled itself around her legs. She couldn’t get out of the bed. Terrified, she swung her arms wildly.

Her fist collided with something, and she heard a grunt. She drew her arm back again.

“Reva!” a voice cried. “What are you trying to do—kill me?”

Reva’s arm froze in midair. “Michael?”

“Who did you think?” her little brother snapped angrily.

Reva peered at him. His blue eyes were wide, his red hair stuck up in every direction. “What are you doing in here?” she demanded. “You scared me to death!”

“Yeah, well you punched me. Hard,” Michael told her, rubbing his arm. “That makes us even.”

Reva sighed and flopped back against her pillow. First a nightmare and now Michael. Would she ever get any sleep? “What are you doing in my room?” she demanded again.

Michael hopped onto the bed. “It’s your roommate,” he whispered.

“Grace? What about her?”

“She woke me up. I mean, her voice did,” Michael explained. “She sounds really freaked.”

Reva rolled her eyes. If she’d known Grace was going to be such a pain, she never would have invited her. “Turn on your radio or something,” she told Michael, yawning. “Or pull the pillow over your head. Count sheep.”

“I can’t go back to sleep now!” Michael protested. “And you can’t either.”

“Watch me,” Reva said with another yawn.

“No!” Michael yanked the comforter onto the floor. “I told you, Grace is freaking out! We have to go see if she’s all right!”

Reva stared at the ceiling and counted to ten. “Okay, okay,” she grumbled. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and peered at her clock. Two-fifteen in the morning. Grace better have a good excuse, she thought.

“Hurry up!” Michael urged as Reva fumbled with her silk bathrobe. “She might be hurt or something. Or maybe someone is breaking in!”

Reva frowned at him. “You don’t have to sound so excited.”

“Why not? It will be fun!” Jumping off the bed, Michael spun around and did one of his ninja kicks. “I can kill whoever tries to break in! One chop to the neck and he’ll be dead meat!”

“Forget it,” Reva told him. Daddy wasn’t kidding, she thought. Michael really is into violent stuff. “You’re going back to your room.”

“But I’m the Avenger!” Michael protested. “I can help!”

“Look, nobody’s in there with Grace,” Reva told him. “She’s probably talking in her sleep.” She tied her robe, then crossed to the door.

The hall stood empty. Taking Michael by the hand, she led him to his room. “Thanks for waking me, Michael,” she told him. “I’m sure Grace is okay, but I’ll go check. You go back to bed.”

Michael pouted. “Promise you’ll come get me if anything exciting is happening?”

Reva ruffled his already messy hair. “Promise.”

As soon as Michael closed his door, Reva raked her fingers through her own hair and tightened the belt on her bathrobe. From Grace’s room next door, she could hear low, intense murmuring.

She tiptoed along the hall and put her ear against Grace’s door.

The murmur grew louder.

Grace’s voice. Reva couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was clear.

Grace was terrified.

Reva felt a prickle of fear. She rapped her knuckles on the door. “Grace?” she called in a loud whisper. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

No answer. Just the sound of Grace’s frantic murmuring.

“Grace?” Reva made a fist and pounded against the thick, polished wood. “Grace? Is someone in there?”

Chapter 6

A LATE VISITOR

Grace pressed the phone against her ear. Her hand was slick with sweat. Her heartbeat sounded so loud to her that it almost drowned out the pounding on the door.

“Please, Rory!” Grace gasped into the phone. “Don’t you understand? You treated me like you owned me! That’s why things didn’t work out between us!”

“Grace!” Reva’s voice surprised Grace. She jumped, and the phone jerked out of her hand. She grabbed it. As she pressed it to her ear, she felt the blood drain from her face.

“No!” she muttered in a hoarse whisper. “Don’t come here! You can’t, Rory!” She bit her lip and ran her fingers through her wispy brown hair. “Leave me alone! Don’t come here!” she pleaded again. “No, don’t say that. Don’t threaten me like that, Rory!”

The door banged open. Grace slammed the phone down and whirled around as Reva strode into the room.

“Didn’t you hear me knocking?” Reva demanded, scowling at her. “What’s going on, Grace? You woke Michael up. He thought somebody was in here. He was ready to kill them!”

“I didn’t mean to wake him,” Grace whispered. Her heart was still pounding so hard it hurt. “I’m sorry, Reva.”

“It’s a little late for that,” Reva grumbled. “What’s going on? Who were you talking to?”

Grace sank down on the bed. “Rory.”

Reva’s scowl deepened.

“I’m so scared, Reva!” Grace cried. “He’s furious! And he threatened to come here!”

“To Shadyside?” Reva asked. “To my house?”

Grace nodded. She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees, shivering. “He said nothing could keep him from me. He said I’d pay for what I did to him.”

Grace shivered again. The house was warm, but she couldn’t stop shaking. Her eyes filled with tears and she bent her head against her knees. “I’m so scared, Reva, I don’t know what to do! What if he does come here?”

“Let him,” Reva told her.

Grace raised her head. “You can’t mean that!”

“Oh, yes I do.” Reva smiled grimly. “Come on. Let’s go down to the kitchen and make some tea or something.”

Grace didn’t really want any tea. She didn’t want to do anything but fly far away to some place where it was safe.

But no place was far enough.

No place was safe.

“Come on,” Reva repeated impatiently. “I’m wide awake now, and you look like you just checked out of an institution.”

Grace stood up and pulled on her bathrobe. As she did, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Reva was right. Her face was pale, and dark circles ringed her eyes.

I look awful. Skinny and pale and terrified. Maybe some tea will at least warm me, maybe make me stop shaking.

Still nervous, Grace followed Reva along the dim hallway and down the sweeping staircase to the main floor.

“I’m starving,” Reva announced as they passed through the pantry and into the huge kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and stared inside. “Good. The cook made some pies for one of the parties. Apple and pumpkin and cherry. Which kind do you like?”

“Well—cherry,” Grace said. “But if they’re for a party, maybe we shouldn’t eat any now.”

“Who cares?” Reva shrugged and pulled out a pie. “The cook can always make more. That’s her job.”

While Reva boiled water in a copper kettle, Grace cut two slices of pie at the big marble-topped island in the center of the gleaming kitchen. Reva plunked down two steaming mugs and the two of them sat on high wooden stools, waiting for the tea to cool.

Grace took a bite of pie, then wrapped her hands around her mug. She still felt cold. “How can you be so calm?” she asked.

Reva gazed at her over the rim of her mug. “Why shouldn’t I be calm?”

“Because of Rory!” Grace cried. “I mean, maybe you don’t realize how dangerous he is, but I do! He beat me up, remember? What if he comes here?”

“As I said, let him.” Reva sipped some tea. “You’re safe here, Grace.”

Grace shook her head. “I wish I could believe you. But you don’t know Rory.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Reva told her. “Listen, I told you about being kidnapped last year, right?”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with Rory?”

“Well, as soon as it was over, my father beefed up the security around here,” Reva explained. “Not only does this house have the best alarm system in the world, we now have three guard dogs on the grounds. Plus,” she added, “Daddy hired two full-time security guards.”

Grace shuddered. “You make it sound like a prison.”

Reva frowned. “Thanks a lot.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Grace felt herself blushing. She was always saying things wrong. “It’s a beautiful house, really. And I’m so grateful to be here. I guess I’m just upset, because of the phone call.”

“Yeah, well, you can stop being upset. If Rory tries to get in here, the guard will stop him.” Reva laughed. “And if the guard doesn’t, the dogs will. Take my word for it, they’re trained to go for the throat.”

The throat. Grace shuddered again.

“So forget about Rory, okay?” Reva said. “And stop flinching at every little noise. It’s not exactly fun.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Grace lifted her mug. Her hands shook and the tea slopped out over the rim.

“What’s the matter now?” Reva asked, sounding irritated. “How many times do I have to tell you that he can’t get in here?”

“I want to believe you,” Grace told her. “But you didn’t hear Rory on the phone just now. He was wild, Reva! And when he’s like that, nothing can stop him. Not dogs or guards or alarms or anything.”

She mopped up the tea with a napkin. “And he said . . . he said when he got here, he was going to finish what he started with me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He was talking about when he beat me up.” Grace swallowed. “He—he meant this time he’s going to kill me!”

Before Reva could respond, someone knocked at the kitchen door. Reva jumped.

Grace jumped, too, knocking her mug over. Dark tea spread across the marble and dribbled onto the floor.

Another knock, louder this time.

Grace wanted to run, but she couldn’t move. She sat frozen in terror, her eyes on the door. “It’s . . . it’s him! He did come.”

A third knock. A fourth.

“It’s Rory!” Grace cried.

Chapter 7

SURPRISE!

Reva shivered at Grace’s words.

Could Rory really be on the other side of that door?

Daddy spent zillions to protect this place. Rory couldn’t possibly have gotten inside the grounds. And if he did, wouldn’t the dogs be barking?

Another knock.

Enough. Reva slid from the stool.

Grace grabbed her wrist. “You’re not going to open it are you?”

Reva stared at her. Her roommate’s eyes were wide with fright, and her teeth chattered.

She looks like a scared rabbit, Reva thought. “Get a grip, Grace. If Rory came to kill you, would he really knock on the door?”

Prying Grace’s icy fingers from her arm, Reva walked hesitantly to the door. She turned the lock, but left the security chain on. No sense being totally stupid, she thought.

She pulled the door open a crack.

Behind her, Grace gasped loudly as a man’s face rose into view.

Reva almost laughed. “Relax. It’s one of the security guards.”

The guard, a red-faced man in a dark blue uniform, nodded at Reva. “Sorry to disturb you, Miss.”

Reva frowned at him. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

The guard nodded again. “Sorry,” he repeated. “Something came up. I saw the lights on in here and thought I should check with you.”

Reva sighed. “Okay. What is it?”

“About ten minutes ago, a young man drove up.”

Grace gasped again. “It’s Rory. Shut the door, Reva! Quick!”

The guard gave her a curious glance, then turned to Reva again. “He says he knows you, Miss,” he told her. “He’s very insistent about seeing you.”

“Reva! Shut the door!” Grace insisted.

Reva rolled her eyes. Grace was really losing it. “Who is this guy?” she asked the guard.

Before he could answer, a tall, sandy-haired boy poked his head around the guard’s arm. “Hi, Reva.”

Reva stared at him. Daniel Powell. She’d dated him a few times at Smith. Nice enough, but not exactly a thrill a minute.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?” Daniel asked with a grin. “I hopped in my car and didn’t stop driving until I got here a few minutes ago. Glad to see me?”

Reva kept staring.

Daniel laughed. “You really are surprised, aren’t you? Listen—good news. I’m staying with a friend here in Shadyside for the entire vacation. We’ll be able to see a lot of each other.”

The guard cleared his throat. “As I said, Miss, I wanted to check with you before I called the police, since this young man says you know each other.” He peered at Reva. “Do you know him? Is it okay to let him in?”

Reva shook her head. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

“Huh?” Daniel’s voice shot up to a screech. “Hey, Reva, come on. You’re joking, right?”

“Wrong.” Reva glanced at the guard. “Take him away,” she ordered coolly.

“Yes, ma’am!” The guard clamped a big hand around Daniel’s arm. “Come on, kid. You heard her.”

“No, wait!” Daniel protested. “She’s joking. She has to be. We know each other at college.”

“Tell it to the police,” the guard said, dragging Daniel away.

“Reva, tell him!” Daniel pleaded over his shoulder. “Reva! Come on! Give me a break!”

Reva shut the door and locked it. Then she burst out laughing.

“Reva!” Grace stared at her in shock. “Why did you do that to Daniel?”

“Just for the look on his face!” Reva shook her head, gasping with laughter. “It was worth it for that. Did you see him? He came here for a surprise—and he got one!”

“But he drove through the night just to see you!” Grace reminded her.

Reva shrugged. “So? He saw me! Lighten up, Grace. It was funny!” Reva burst out laughing again.

A loud pounding interrupted her.

Startled, she spun around.

The door rattled violently as someone pounded against it.

Chapter 8

BAD NEWS

“It’s Rory! This time I know it is!” Grace cried. “He must have been hiding in the bushes or something!”

Reva ignored her and strode to the door.

Grace clamped her hands over her mouth.

Reva pulled the door open.

The security guard stood outside.

Reva scowled at him. “What now?”

He shook his head. “I just wanted to let you know that I turned the young man over to my partner, who’s calling the police. You won’t be bothered by him again.” The guard shifted a little nervously. “I apologize for letting him get to the door like that.”

He’s afraid I’ll tell Daddy and get him fired, Reva thought. That might be fun. But maybe I’ll save it for another time.

“Don’t let it happen again,” she told the guard, giving him an icy stare.

“No, Miss. You can count on it.” Looking relieved, the guard hurried away.

Reva shut the door again and locked it. Then she yawned. “It’s way too early to be up,” she grumbled. “I’m going back to bed.”

“I guess I will, too,” Grace said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, though.” She started to mop up the spilled tea with her napkin.

“Leave that for the maid,” Reva told her impatiently. “And why shouldn’t you be able to sleep? Rory didn’t come, so you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Not tonight, maybe,” Grace admitted. She glanced at the door with a worried expression. “But I know Rory—he said he was coming and he will.”

“As I said—let him!” Annoyed, Reva snapped off the light and swept out of the kitchen. Inviting Grace had definitely been a big mistake. If I wanted a soap opera, she thought, I’d turn on the TV!

• • •

Driving home from the tennis club the next afternoon, Reva watched Grace and scowled. Grace huddled in the passenger seat, tense and wary.

Like a scared rabbit, Reva thought again, rolling her eyes. Or a mouse. Now that I think about it, she really is mousey, with that boring brown hair and those twitchy eyes.

“I’m sorry I lost the match for us,” Grace murmured, catching Reva’s annoyed glance.

“So am I,” Reva told her bluntly. “I kept thinking maybe you had a hole in your racket.”

“I’m sorry,” Grace repeated. “But I couldn’t help it. Not with Rory watching me like that!”

“And you’re sure it was him?”

“I’m almost positive. He came in at the beginning of the last game, and he stood way in the back, in the shadows.”

Reva raised her eyebrows skeptically. “Well, if he was in the shadows, how can you be so sure it was Rory?”

“Because the minute I noticed him, I felt this horrible chill,” Grace replied, nervously chewing on a fingernail.

And you hit the ball into the next court like a total klutz, Reva thought.

“He didn’t take his eyes off me for the whole time,” Grace continued. “I could practically feel the hate coming from him! I wanted to run, but I could hardly move!”

No kidding, Reva thought. Grace had stood there like a block of wood, letting almost every ball get by her. And the guy—who was gone when Grace finally mentioned what was bothering her—probably hadn’t been Rory at all.

Reva sighed. She’d been looking forward to this vacation so much, and now she was stuck with a total paranoid nut. She slipped a cassette into the player. She knew Grace wanted to talk more. So she turned the volume way up. Who needed Grace jabbering at her endlessly about Rory?

As Reva pulled her red Mazda Miata into the curved drive in front of her house, the music ended.

Almost immediately, Grace gasped loudly. “Look at that car!”

Reva eyed the beat-up VW parked in the drive and sniffed in distaste. “Why doesn’t the maid tell these delivery people to drive around back?” she complained.

“Don’t stop!” Grace cried, as Reva braked behind the ugly heap of junk. “We have to get out of here. Rory might have rented that car. He could be inside the house right now, waiting for me!”

In spite of herself, Reva glanced nervously at the tall front windows of the house. Could Rory really be inside, holding everyone hostage or something?

Then she noticed her father standing at the window of his upstairs office and waving to her. Even from down here, she could see his smile.

“Get a grip,” she told Grace. “See Daddy up there? He wouldn’t be smiling and waving like that if anything was wrong.”

“I . . . I guess not.” Grace climbed slowly out of the car and followed Reva up the steps and through the front door.

As Reva dropped her tennis racket in the front hall, the maid entered from the living room. “Oh, Miss, you’re home,” she said, bending to pick up the racket. “Your visitors will be glad. They’ve been waiting quite a while.” She waved the racket toward the living room and hurried off before Reva could ask who the visitors were.

Reva hadn’t been expecting anyone. She hoped it was someone fun, preferably a guy. Fluffing her red hair with her fingers, she strode toward the living room, with Grace following nervously behind.

In the arched doorway, Reva stopped and frowned in disappointment.

Her cousin Pam sat on the couch, paging through a magazine.

Reva forced a smile. “Pam! Hi!”

Pam slapped the magazine onto the coffee table and stood up. “Hi, Reva.” She gestured toward a girl sitting in one of the high-backed wing chairs. “This is my friend from work, Willow Sorenson.”

Reva faked a smile. Where did Pam find her? she wondered. That red glass nose-stud looked like a scab. And what did she use on her hair—rust remover?

Reva introduced Grace, then turned back to Pam. “You look great!” she gushed insincerely. Ha. Pam wore her usual torn jeans and sweatshirt. If she had any class, she’d do something with herself, Reva thought.

“Thanks, Reva. So do you.”

“Now tell me all about your job,” Reva demanded. “No, wait—don’t. If I hear how exciting it is, I’ll die of jealousy.”

Willow snorted.

“It’s not that exciting,” Pam said, twisting her ponytail around her finger. “It’s really kind of boring.”

“I don’t believe it,” Reva declared. Actually, she did believe it. She’d go nuts working in a dump like Acme Insurance. But that’s what happened when you didn’t have any money. “Talk about boring—you should try going to Smith.”

“Maybe we should trade places,” Pam suggested.

Dream on. “I’d do it in a second.” Reva sighed. “But Daddy wouldn’t let me.” Thank goodness, she added to herself.

Pam shrugged. “Well, anyway, Willow and I were a little surprised when you weren’t here yesterday.”

“Yesterday? Oh, that’s right. You were coming over,” Reva said. “The minute I hung up, I remembered that I had some errands to run before dinner.”

Actually, the minute she hung up, Reva decided that the last thing she wanted to do was look at some cheap, homemade crafts. So she’d taken Grace for a quick tour of Shadyside.

“You could have left a message with the maid,” Willow told her.

Reva widened her eyes innocently. “You mean she didn’t give you my message? I’ll have to speak to her. Getting good help is really hard these days, you know.”

“Sure,” Willow muttered.

Pam cleared her throat. “Well, anyway, as I told you, Willow and I are taking this crafts course. We brought our stuff over to show you.”

“I’d love to see it,” Grace told her.

Thanks a lot, Grace, Reva thought. As Pam pulled a shopping bag onto the coffee table, Reva checked her watch. Five minutes to pretend to like the stuff, whatever it was. Then she’d get rid of these two losers.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Grace exclaimed.

Reva gazed up and almost gasped in shock. She’d been expecting something totally tacky—a lopsided flowerpot, maybe.

Instead, Pam had pulled out one of the most gorgeous scarves she’d ever seen. A rich golden color, with tiny silver reindeer painted on it.

“It’s beautiful!” Grace repeated. “And it’s perfect for Christmas!”

Pam’s round face flushed at the praise. “Here, try it on.” She handed Grace the scarf, then pulled a green one from the shopping bag and held it out to Reva.

Reva slid the soft green material through her fingers, then draped the scarf around her neck.

“We stitch up the hems by hand,” Pam explained. “And we do the painting too, of course. It’s silkscreened. What do you think, Reva?” she asked anxiously.

Reva struck a model’s pose. “Think I’m ready for the cover of Vogue?”

Pam laughed excitedly. “You mean you like it?”

“Like it? It’s gorgeous!” Reva declared. How did these two manage something like this? she wondered. Maybe Willow is talented. I know that Pam couldn’t design a scarf for a dog to wear.

Pam laughed again. “That’s great, Reva. So will you show them to your father and see if he’ll put them in his stores? I mean, it would be so fantastic if we could sell some of them.”

Some of them? They could probably sell hundreds, Reva thought, fingering the scarf. They were perfect for the holidays, as Grace said. And they were originals, too. People would fork over a lot of money for original stuff.

She felt a jab of jealousy. She was the fashionable one. Pam was a slob, with absolutely no sense of clothes or makeup or hairstyles. And her punk-looking friend was even worse. But the two of them had actually made something that Reva knew would sell like crazy.

“Reva?” Pam asked in a hopeful voice. “Would you show them to Uncle Robert? It would mean a lot. Please?”

Should I make her beg some more? Reva wondered. No. It’s fun, but I can’t waste the time. “Sure I’ll show them to Daddy!” she declared enthusiastically. “In fact, I’ll do it right now. He’s upstairs in his office.”

Willow actually smiled, and Pam practically jumped up and down. “Thanks!” she cried, handing Reva two shopping bags filled with scarves. “This is so great! I can’t wait to hear what he says!”

“Stay here,” Reva told them, carrying the bags to the door. “This won’t take long.”

As she left, Reva glanced over her shoulder. Pam and Willow were jabbering at each other. Pam had her fingers crossed, and Willow’s expression was excited and nervous.

They really want this, Reva thought. They want it so bad they can taste it.

Let’s see what I can do about it.

• • •

Fifteen minutes later, Reva trotted back down the stairs and stopped in the doorway of the living room.

Pam and Willow were talking to Grace about the scarves, telling her how they’d come up with the idea. When they saw Reva, they stopped, staring at her tensely.

Reva glanced at Pam, then at Willow. She dropped the shopping bags on the floor and sighed. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice full of regret. “I have some very bad news.”

Chapter 9

“REVA WON’T GET AWAY
WITH THIS!”

Now I know what it means to feel your heart sink, Pam thought. Mine is down around my knees right now. “You mean—he didn’t like the scarves?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking with disappointment.

“Well . . .” Reva paused and bit her lip. “No. He didn’t like them.”

Willow groaned.

Pam sighed.

Reva laughed. “He loved them!” she cried.

Pam stared at her, confused. “What? But you said . . .”

Pam felt a flash of anger at Reva’s cruel joke. But it quickly disappeared. “Yes!” she cried, turning to Willow. “He liked them, I knew he would! Oh, this is so incredible!”

Willow grinned and pumped her fist in the air.

“How fast can you start making more?” Reva asked. “He wants to stock them in five of his stores—immediately.”

“I don’t believe it! Did you hear that, Willow?” Pam shrieked, hugging her friend. “Five stores! We did it!”

“Congratulations,” Grace told her.

“Thanks! Oh, this is so great!” Pam laughed excitedly. Five stores! she thought. If they sold well—and she was sure they would—she and Willow would make a bundle. She’d have enough money for college. Maybe even a car!

“So what are we waiting for?” Willow asked, still grinning from ear to ear. “Let’s get out of here and get to work. We’ve got orders to fill!”

“Right!” Pam agreed breathlessly. “Tell Uncle Robert thanks, Reva. And tell him we can get him all the scarves he wants—no problem!”

“Good.” Reva smiled. “Just think—in only a few days, the Reva Wear Scarves will be everywhere!”

Pam’s smile froze on her face.

The room went silent.

I must have heard wrong, Pam told herself. She licked her lips. “What did you say?” she asked Reva.

“Yeah, I’d like to hear that again, too,” Willow said.

“I said that the Reva Wear Scarves will be everywhere,” Reva told them.

“Reva Wear?” Pam gasped. “I don’t get it.”

“Well, I couldn’t tell Daddy you designed them.”

“Why not?”

Reva clicked her tongue impatiently. “Because he wouldn’t have been interested.” You moron, her tone of voice said. “And I really wanted to help you two. You know. Get you started. So I told him they were my designs. That’s all it took. He was so excited!”

Pam glanced at Willow, who looked as if she’d been punched in the stomach. Exactly the way I feel, Pam thought. How could Reva have done this?

“And get this,” Reva continued, her blue eyes gleaming. “Daddy’s going to let me do a fashion show at the store. It’s going to be a major promotion—just to show off the scarves! This is the first time he’s ever done anything like that. I mean, there have been fashion shows before, but not for just one item.”

“That’s nice,” Grace murmured. Grace sounded shocked, Pam noticed. She was obviously seeing a new side of Reva.

“It’s more than nice, it’s fabulous!” Reva declared. “And here’s the best part—I get to run the shows. Hire some new models, pick the music—everything! We’re going to put on the show three times a day during the whole Christmas season. We’ll sell hundreds of scarves!”

“Yeah—hundreds of our scarves,” Willow muttered, glancing at Pam. “Our scarves and our designs. You kind of forgot that, didn’t you, Reva?”

Reva rolled her eyes. “Didn’t I just explain why it has to be this way? What’s the big deal, anyway? You and Pam will get a nice percent of the profit. You’re going to make some real money!”

“Sure, but. . .” Willow started to say.

“Listen, we don’t exactly have all the time in the world, you know,” Reva interrupted. “I mean, it’s already early December, and I want to get those scarves into the stores as soon as possible.”

Pam shot a glance at Willow. Don’t argue anymore, her eyes said. Willow didn’t know Reva the way Pam did. Cross her, and they could kiss this deal good-bye.

And Pam desperately wanted this deal, no matter what.

“We’d better get going,” she told Willow. “We can work at my house. But we’ll have to clear off the dining room table. Or maybe we could use the garage. We’ll get in a few hours before we have to go to the office and—”

“Don’t think so small!” Reva scoffed. “Daddy knows your boss. He’ll get you some time off. And Daddy said I could set up a workroom at the store for you. I’ll call Maintenance now and get them to put in a couple of big tables.”

“Fine.” Pam gestured toward the door. “Come on, Willow. Let’s go home and make sure we have all the supplies we need.” She picked up the shopping bags. “See you in the morning, Reva.”

“Right. Eight-thirty sharp,” Reva ordered. “And bring your lunches, okay? You’ll be too busy to go out.”

Pam nudged Willow through the door. As they slipped on their coats, they could hear Reva boasting to Grace about Reva Wear.

“‘Eight-thirty sharp,’” Willow said, mimicking Reva’s bossy tone of voice. “ ‘Bring your lunch. You won’t have time to go out.’ ” She tossed her head. “I won’t be surprised if she chains us to the sewing tables.”

“Sssh, she’ll hear you,” Pam warned. She pulled open the heavy front door and followed Willow outside.

“That cousin of yours is bad news,” Willow declared. Her pale eyes were icy with anger. “Real bad news.”

“I know. But at least people will be buying our scarves. And we’ll be making some money,” Pam reminded her. “That’s what we really care about—right?”

Willow turned back and glared at the house. “Reva won’t get away with this,” she muttered, almost to herself. “Don’t worry, Pam. I won’t let her get away with this!”

Chapter 10

DEATH THREAT

Reva watched the elevator light and tapped her foot impatiently. Why couldn’t this thing move faster?

She glanced at her watch. Almost ten. She’d been up in one of the executive offices at Dalby’s since nine this morning, working on plans for her scarf show. She was on her way down now to audition the models.

Only one day until the first show, she thought, glancing at the elevator light again. Only one, and she had a ton of stuff to do to get ready.

But it will be worth it, she promised herself. Because Reva Wear will be the hit of the season.

And I’ll be the hit of the fashion world.

The elevator settled to a stop on the main floor. With a smile, Reva swept through the doors and hurried down a hallway toward the room where the models waited.

As she passed an open door, she glanced inside. The tiny windowless room, usually used for storing boxes and shopping bags, had been cleared out. Two tables crammed with sewing supplies stood against one wall and a long wooden table sat in the middle of the floor. Pam and Willow leaned over the table, unrolling a bolt of black material.

Reva frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re just getting started.”

Pam raised her head. “Oh, Reva. Hi. No, we already cut out a bunch of other material.”

“Good.” Reva started to move on.

“Reva?”

She stopped, tapping her foot again.

Pam came around the table. Multicolored thread clung to her hair and pale blue sweatshirt. A yellow tape measure dangled around her neck, and one of her sneakers was untied.

Good thing she’s working behind the scenes, Reva thought. And her tacky friend, too.

Willow wore a skin-tight tank top and black jeans tucked into scuffed black boots. Reva sniffed. Probably rode to work on her Harley. And was that actually a tattoo on her shoulder?

Reva shuddered and turned to Pam. “What is it?” she demanded. “I have a lot to do.”

“I know. But we have to talk,” Pam told her.

Sighing loudly, Reva checked her watch. “Make it fast, okay?”

“Sure.” Pam stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “We need to set up our business arrangement with you. You know, a contract.”

“It’s really important,” Willow chimed in.

“So is getting some scarves made, or you won’t need any contract,” Reva pointed out. “Listen, I’ll talk to Daddy’s lawyer later today. But right now, I absolutely have to go audition the models. I’ll stop by and check on you later.”

As she turned away, Reva noticed Willow staring at her. Glaring was more like it. Those blue eyes reminded Reva of marbles—hard and cold.

What’s her problem, anyway? she wondered, hurrying down the hall. Doesn’t she realize how lucky she is that I’m giving them a chance?

“Reva!” a voice called out behind her.

Reva spun around and smiled as her father walked briskly toward her. “Hi, Daddy. I was just about to audition the models for the Reva Wear show. The Shadyside Agency was really excited when I called them this morning. They said they’d send over some of their best ones.”

“That’s just what I wanted to talk to you about,” Robert Dalby told her. “I know you were planning on hiring three models, but it will have to be two.”

“But, Daddy, I already worked out the whole routine! And it needs three models,” Reva protested. “Two won’t work at all!”

“Calm down, honey,” her father said. “You can use three models, but you can only hire two from the agency. Traci Meecham is already under contract to model for the store. So we have to use her in the show.”

“Traci!” Reva practically spat out the name. “Give me a break, Daddy. You know she can’t stand me!”

And the feeling is totally mutual, Reva thought.

“No, I didn’t know that,” her father told her. “What could she possibly have against you?”

Reva shrugged, frowning. She and Traci had a big blow-up about a guy last year. But she didn’t feel like going into the details. “I don’t know,” she lied. “She’s probably just jealous. You know, because you’re my father and we have money.”

“She’s never been anything but polite and friendly to me,” Mr. Dalby declared.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Reva told him. “You’re the boss, remember? She has to stay on your good side. Anyway, Daddy, I still don’t see why I have to use her. I mean, can’t you change her contract or something?”

Her father laughed. “Easier said than done, honey. In fact, my lawyers would probably tell me it’s impossible. No. You have to use Traci,” he insisted.

“But—”

Mr. Dalby held up his hand. “Reva, this is business. And you might not always like the people you do business with. But you still have to behave like a pro.”

Reva wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. “Okay,” she told him. “I understand. I’ll use Traci.”

Her father patted her shoulder. “I’m off to a meeting now. You go talk to Traci. She’s in the makeup department, modeling a new line of eyeshadow.”

As her father strode away, Reva heaved a sigh. First Pam and Willow, and now Traci Meecham. What a bunch of losers!

She checked her watch. Ten after nine. The models were waiting.

I’m the boss, Reva reminded herself. They can’t do anything without me. So let them wait. Go find Traci and get it over with.

Traci stood at one of the makeup counters. Reva watched her for a few seconds. Slender, with short, curly blond hair and big gray eyes, Traci sat on a high stool, applying charcoal eyeshadow and chatting with an interested customer. The woman said something, and Traci laughed, showing deep dimples at the sides of her mouth.

Reva frowned. Dimples were too cute. She wanted a more dramatic look for her scarf show. But she didn’t have a choice.

Annoyed, she cleared her throat loudly.

Traci’s makeup hand jumped, and a line of charcoal eyeshadow appeared on her forehead.

“Sorry,” Reva told her, with a fake smile. “But I need to talk to you a second, Traci.”

Traci turned to the customer. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” She slid from the stool and walked gracefully over to Reva. “What?” she demanded bluntly.

“I’m putting together a fashion show for a new line of scarves,” Reva told her. “The name is Reva Wear.”

Traci’s eyebrows rose skeptically. “When did you go to design school?”

“I have natural talent,” Reva shot back. Working with Traci was going to be a disaster. “Anyway, I need three models, and you’re one of them. Of course,” she added snidely, “you’ll have to wash the eyeshadow off your forehead.”

Traci rolled her eyes. “Listen, Reva, I know your father is making you use me for this show,” she declared. “I don’t like it any better than you do.”

“You can always refuse,” Reva told her.

“Sure, and lose my job.” Traci’s gray eyes flashed. “Some of us have to earn our living, you know.”

Boo hoo. What am I supposed to do about it? Reva wondered. Feel guilty?

“So I’ll do this scarf show, and I’ll be good in it,” Traci continued. “But let’s make a deal, okay? You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

“Fine.”

She’s afraid I might get her fired, Reva thought. Good. “Just remember who’s running the show, Traci.”

Smiling sweetly, Reva turned and strode away.

At least I’ll be able to choose the other two models, she thought, hurrying back toward the room where the models waited. Traci is a blonde, and I definitely want one with black hair. What about the third one? A second blonde might be dramatic. Or a second black-haired one. . . . No, that would make Traci stand out too much.

Thinking about the models, Reva turned a corner in the hallway.

And stopped short when she saw a familiar face.

Daniel Powell stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Surprise!” he snapped.

“What do you want?” Reva demanded. “What are you doing here?”

“What do I want?” Daniel bared his teeth in a cold smile. “I want to kill you!”

Chapter 11

“HELP ME—PLEASE!”

Reva’s mouth went dry.

Daniel’s cold smile faded. His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

He does look like he wants to kill me! Reva thought.

But why?

“Daniel, I don’t understand!” she cried innocently. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot already.” Daniel took a step toward her. “The other night at your house? The security guard? Is it coming back to you now?”

“Oh, that!” Reva sighed. “But that was just a little joke!”

“Guess what? I’m not laughing!” Daniel snarled. “You got me into real trouble, in case you’re interested. The police treated me like some kind of criminal. They actually thought I was a burglar or something. If my friend hadn’t come down to the station to explain who I was, I’d probably be in jail right now!”

Too bad you’re not, Reva thought. But she quickly put on an ashamed expression. “Daniel, I’m really sorry,” she told him. “It was a joke. I never, ever meant for something like that to happen to you. It must have been horrible!”

“It wasn’t exactly a picnic,” he agreed angrily.

Reva shook her head sympathetically. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated. What else did he want her to do—cry and beg forgiveness?

Daniel ran a hand through his sandy hair. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry I got so angry just now,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to threaten you. I guess I kind of lost it.”

No kidding. Reva smiled and put her hand on his arm. “I don’t blame you a bit,” she murmured. “Maybe we can forget the whole thing, okay?”

“Good idea.” He smiled back. “Especially since we’ll probably be seeing each other a lot.”

“Oh?” Reva couldn’t imagine what he was talking about. She definitely didn’t plan on seeing him again.

“Yeah. I told you I’m staying in Shadyside for the whole vacation,” he reminded her. “And guess what?”

Reva took her hand off his arm. “I hate guessing games. Why don’t you just tell me?”

“My friend got me a temporary job, right here in Dalby’s,” he announced. “In the stockroom.”

“Oh.” Does he expect me to do cartwheels? Reva wondered. “That’s nice. Listen, I have to. . .”

“So why don’t we put the other night behind us and celebrate?” he interrupted. “If you’re free tonight, we could have dinner. Or catch a movie. Or both.”

“I don’t think so,” Reva replied coldly. “I’m not allowed to go out with someone who’s been arrested!”

Laughing at her own cruel joke, Reva hurried away, leaving Daniel alone in the hallway.

What a nerd!

Reva shook her head. College must have done some weird things to my brain. I actually used to think Daniel was interesting!

As Reva passed the ladies room, the door swung open and Grace stepped out. “Oh, hi, Reva. I’m glad I found you.”

“Why? Was I lost?”

“Huh?”

Reva rolled her eyes. “A joke, Grace. It was a joke.”

“Oh. Well, anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask me fast,” Reva ordered. “I absolutely have to get to the model audition.”

“That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about,” Grace told her. “I . . . um, well. . .”

“This isn’t asking me fast, Grace,” Reva snapped.

“Okay. Right.” Grace took a deep breath. “See, I’ve always dreamed of being a model. And I was thinking you could use me in the scarf show. It would be so great!”

Great for you, maybe, Reva thought. But not for the show. She shook her head. “Listen, you’re thin, but that’s about all you have going for you. As a model, I mean. You’re too short, for one thing.”

“But. . .”

“And,” Reva interrupted, “you don’t carry yourself very well. You sort of hunch around like you’re scared of your own shadow. No offense, Grace, but you just don’t have the training to be a model.”

Grace’s face turned bright red.

“I know you wouldn’t want me to lie to you,” Reva told her, forcing a sympathetic smile. “It’s better not to hang on to a dream that will never come true, right? I’ll tell you what, though—you can be my assistant.”

“Sure. I can do that,” Grace murmured.

Good! Her feelings are hurt, Reva thought. Maybe she’ll go home. I wish I’d never invited her. She’s no fun at all. “I’ll meet with you after the audition and give you something to do, okay?”

Grace bit her lip and nodded. “If there’s nothing for me to do now, I think I’ll take a walk.”

“Whatever. Catch you later.”

Grace turned and shuffled away, her shoulders slumped.

Reva clicked her tongue in annoyance. There goes another loser. I’m surrounded by them!

But not for long, she thought as she hurried toward the room where the models waited. Once the Reva Wear scarves hit the market, I’ll be a winner.

And I can leave all the losers behind!

• • •

Half an hour later, Reva dismissed nine of the eleven models who had come to audition. She waited as they filed out of the room, then turned back to the two she had chosen.

Yes. She picked the right ones. Liza Grogan. Straight, shiny dark hair, big brown eyes, and incredibly long legs.

Ellie Stern had short, curly red hair, bright blue eyes, and a really sophisticated look. She reminded Reva of herself.

“I’m definitely giving one of these to my mom for Christmas!” Ellie exclaimed, wrapping a red and gold scarf around her neck. “They’re awesome!”

“Which design school did you go to, Reva?” Liza asked.

“None, actually.”

“You’re kidding!” Ellie stared at Reva in surprise. “I’ve seen stuff coming out of design schools that isn’t half as good as this. I mean, really, these scarves are fabulous!”

“Thanks.” Reva smiled modestly and checked her watch. “As soon as Traci gets here, we’ll start rehearsing.”

Liza frowned. “You aren’t talking about Traci Meecham, are you?”

“That’s right,” Reva told her. “She’s the third model. She’s under contract to Dalby’s, so . . .”

“So Reva’s stuck with me,” Traci finished, breezing into the room. She paused and stared at Liza, her eyes narrowing. “And I guess I’m stuck with you, Liza.”

Liza gazed back for a moment, then tossed her head and smiled. “I guess so, Traci. Try not to let it ruin your day.”

Liza and Traci obviously aren’t best friends, Reva thought. But who cares? The only thing that matters is the show.

Traci glanced at Ellie, then back at Reva. “Well, I can see why you hired her, Reva. She looks exactly like you. I just hope she doesn’t act like you.”

Ellie looked confused.

“Reva’s not the easiest person to get along with,” Traci told her in a loud whisper.

Reva frowned. “What happened to staying out of each other’s way, Traci? Wasn’t that your idea?”

Traci shrugged. “I guess I forgot.”

“Well, I hope you haven’t forgotten how to model,” Reva shot back. “If you mess up my show, you’re out of it.”

“What will you do—run and complain to Daddy?” Traci asked with a sneer. “I’m under contract, remember?”

“Hey, come on, you two,” Ellie pleaded. “We all have to work together.”

“Unfortunately,” Liza muttered under her breath, glaring at Traci.

Reva took a deep breath. Keep cool, she told herself. Don’t let Traci ruin things for you. The show is too important. “Ellie is right,” she declared. “We all have to work together. So let’s get started.”

Reva pushed open a door at the back of the room and led the models into the showroom. “The dress rehearsal is tomorrow,” she told them. “Right now, we’ll just walk through the routine.”

Workmen had set up a revolving glass door on the stage at the front of the room. It opened onto a fake sidewalk that would be lined with mannequins dressed as shoppers. “You girls come through the door and walk down the sidewalk in front of the audience,” Reva explained. “Be sure to swing the scarf over your shoulder so people get a good look at it. Then go back through the revolving door.”

“You want us to walk through together?” Traci asked.

Reva gritted her teeth and counted to ten. She hated dealing with stupid people.

“One at a time,” she said slowly. “You first, Traci. Then Liza. Then Ellie.”

Reva stepped back and watched as the three models began to walk through the routine. There would be music during the show, of course. And the words Reva Wear At Dalby’s in flowing gold script above the glass door. The models would wear black, she decided, so the colorful scarves would stand out.

It was going to be perfect.

“Excuse me,” a voice whispered from behind her.

Reva turned, frowning in annoyance. But her frown disappeared quickly as she gazed at the guy standing near her.

Curly dark hair, a strong jaw, golden-brown eyes, broad shoulders. A total babe.

“Hi,” she murmured in a throaty voice. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so.” The guy smiled at her. “Is Liza Grogan here? I’m supposed to pick her up.”

“And you are . . . ?”

“Oh. Her boyfriend. Grant Nichols.” He grinned. “What about you?”

“I’m Reva Dalby,” Reva told him.

“Dalby?” Grant looked impressed. “Like in the store?”

“Exactly.” I’d like to get to know this guy, Reva decided. She glanced toward the revolving door. Ellie was just pushing through it. Liza couldn’t be seen. Good.

“Listen, Grant,” Reva murmured. “Liza is working right now.”

“Oh. She got the job?”

“You sound disappointed,” Reva remarked.

“Well. . .” Grant hesitated. “No, I’m glad for her, I guess. She’s really serious about modeling, but when she gets work, I hardly ever see her. She actually goes to bed at nine, can you believe it?”

Even better, Reva thought. “Models need a lot of sleep so they look fresh,” she told him. “I couldn’t stand it myself. I’m such a night owl.”

“Me, too,” Grant replied. He grinned again, as if they shared some kind of secret.

Perfect, Reva thought. He’s actually coming on to me now. She flicked another glance toward the set. Liza was still out of sight. Now was the time to set something up with Grant.

Reva smiled and took a step toward him.

The showroom door slammed against the wall. Reva spun around to see the door slam shut again.

Grace burst into the room.

Reva frowned.

“Reva?” Grace called hoarsely. She took a step closer. “Help me!”

Reva gasped.

Grace’s left eye was swollen shut, and blood poured from a wide slash in her bottom lip.

Grace took another wobbly step. “Help me—please!”

Then her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees buckled.

Reva screamed in horror as Grace collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Chapter 12

A BROKEN MANNEQUIN

Reva rushed across the room and dropped to her knees beside Grace.

Behind her, she heard loud gasps from the models. “Grant, what happened?” Liza cried.

“I don’t know,” Grant replied. “She just walked in and—whomp! She’s on the floor.”

Grace moaned. Her eyelids fluttered. “Rory,” she muttered hoarsely to Reva. “It was Rory!”

Reva’s mind spun. Rory? Here at Dalby’s?

Loud footsteps pounded across the stage. The three models and Grant surrounded Reva and Grace.

“Shouldn’t somebody call an ambulance?” Ellie asked anxiously. “I mean, look at her face!”

Grace shook her head and grasped Reva’s wrist with cold fingers. “No ambulance!” she pleaded. “Please! Just let me rest a second.”

Reva glanced up at the others. “You might as well go,” she told them. “I’ll take care of her. See you tomorrow morning at rehearsal. Nine sharp.”

As they left, Reva shot Grant a private smile. Then she turned back to Grace. Carefully, she helped her roommate to her feet and guided her down the hall to the ladies room.

Grace sat down shakily on a padded bench while Reva dampened some paper towels at one of the sinks. “What happened?” Reva asked, wringing out the towels.

“I took a walk down Division Street. He must have followed me,” Grace replied. “But I never saw him. Anyway, I was almost back when he dragged me into one of the loading bays behind the store and—he hit me.” She broke off, shuddering.

Reva handed her the towels. “We have to tell the police.”

“No.” Grace winced as she dabbed at her lip.

“But look what he did to you!” Reva argued. “You can’t let him get away with it!”

Grace shook her head. “I don’t think he’ll bother me again.”

“You call a split lip and a black eye bothering you?” Reva cried. “Don’t be a wimp about this, Grace! You have to put that psycho away!”

“You don’t understand,” Grace told her. “I know Rory. He wanted revenge and he got it. He’ll go away now.”

Reva rolled her eyes. If that’s what Grace thinks, fine. It is her problem—she can handle it herself. “Listen,” Reva said, “I still have tons of stuff to do for my Reva Wear show.”

“Yes. I know how important it is to you.” Grace smiled with one side of her mouth. “Go do what you have to do. Don’t worry about me.”

Okay, Reva thought. She glanced in a mirror and began fluffing her hair. As she did, the bathroom door opened and Willow stepped inside.

Her eyes met Reva’s in the mirror. Willow’s expression was cold and unblinking.

If looks could kill, I’d be dead, Reva thought in amusement.

• • •

Grant Nichols took a long, shaky breath as Reva wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t believe I’m doing this,” he told her.

“Believe it.” Reva ran her fingers through his curly black hair and kissed his lips. “See?” she murmured. “It’s really happening.”

Grant kissed her back, then pulled away and glanced around Pete’s Pizza. “I know it’s real,” he said. “That’s the problem. If Liza ever found out. . .”

“Hey.” Reva put her fingers against his mouth. “Who’s Liza?”

She kissed him again, then leaned her head on his shoulder and smiled to herself. Grant had called her late that afternoon, asking if she wanted to go out. No big surprise. She knew he was interested. She’d felt that spark the minute he set eyes on her.

She agreed to go out, of course. She was attracted to Grant. And she didn’t mind taking something away from Liza. That made it all the more interesting. Now the two of them sat in a back booth, waiting for their pizza to arrive.

Grant rubbed his chin against the top of Reva’s head. “How’s your friend?” he asked. “The one with the black eye?”

“She’s okay.” Reva snuggled against him. Grace was a pain, actually. “Let’s not talk about that. It was so unpleasant.”

“Talk about unpleasant—I couldn’t believe it when I saw Liza and Traci in the same room together,” Grant said. “I’m surprised they weren’t tearing each other apart. They hate each other, you know.”

“No, I didn’t.” Reva rolled her eyes. Who cared about Traci and Liza?

“Yeah, it’s really bad news,” Grant continued. “Traci accused Liza of stealing two modeling jobs from her. Plus, I used to go out with Traci. So she thinks Liza stole me away, too.”

So what? Reva thought. It didn’t have anything to do with her. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

Grant tightened his arm around her shoulders. “I think you should be careful, that’s all. When I said they hate each other, I wasn’t kidding. Liza is not happy about working with Traci in your show. And I’m sure Traci is not exactly thrilled, either. There could be fireworks. So watch out.”

“Hey.” Turning in the booth, Reva put her arms around Grant’s neck again. “Enough talk about Liza and Traci,” she murmured softly, moving her lips to his. “It’s not my problem—is it?”

• • •

At a quarter to nine the next morning, Reva strode down the hall to the showroom humming to herself.

She felt great. She had a fashion show to put on and a handsome guy to play with. What more could anybody ask for?

The scarves would be a major hit. She could feel it.

And last night had been fun. Grant worried too much about Liza. But Reva knew she could make him forget. He’s definitely cute, she thought. Maybe I’ll keep him around for a while.

Still humming, Reva pushed open the door and flipped on the light.

Good. The workmen had set up the mannequins along the fake sidewalk.

Reva tossed her blue down jacket onto a chair and put her hands on her hips, studying the mannequins.

Right now, they wore a mixture of clothes—coats, nightgowns, ski outfits. Reva frowned, thinking. She wanted them to look like shoppers, hurrying into Dalby’s. But she didn’t want them to be dressed too colorfully. The audience should pay attention to the scarves and nothing else.

Dark clothes, she decided. Blue. Black. Dark green. Maybe at the end of the show, each of the live models could drape a scarf around one of the mannequins.

Reva smiled. She definitely had a talent for this kind of thing.

As she walked down the aisle toward the mannequins, Reva noticed that one of them looked out of place. It stood in a weird position—tilted on its support pole with its knees bent.

If it’s damaged, she thought, heads will roll. Daddy pays these workmen good money. They should be able to handle a mannequin without breaking it!

Annoyed, she strode to the mannequin to see what was wrong. She grabbed hold of the silvery-gray jacket and spun it toward her.

The mannequin swung around. Its head lolled to one side, revealing part of a red scarf wrapped tightly around its neck.

Reva touched the ends of the scarf. It felt like one of Pam’s. Wasn’t that a gold snowflake painted on it? Definitely one of the Reva Wear scarves.

It’s ruined now, Reva thought, seeing how tightly it had been twisted.

Her gaze traveled up to the mannequin’s face.

A blond curl drooped over its forehead.

Its mouth hung open in a silent scream.

Reva snatched her hand away and stumbled backward.

No! Oh—no!

Not a mannequin!

Traci!

Ohh, no!

Traci Meecham!

Reva stared in horror at the bulging eyes, at the red scarf, knotted, knotted so tightly around Traci’s throat. At the open mouth, gaping open, open forever in a silent scream of agony.

PART TWO

Chapter 13

WHO KILLED TRACI?

Reva clamped her hands over her mouth, trying not to be sick.

She’s dead! her mind screamed. Traci is dead!

Strangled!

Reva took another step backward. Her knees shook so badly she thought she might fall.

As she tried to catch her balance, she felt something sticky under her shoes. She glanced down.

A pool of blood had formed around Traci’s feet.

Dark red blood, spreading out in a circle.

Reva clamped her hands tighter against her mouth and closed her eyes. I’m stepping in it, stepping in her blood!

Then she opened her eyes. Blood? But where did it come from? Traci had been strangled, right?

Where did the blood come from?

Shaking all over, Reva examined Traci’s body. And saw the support pole. The pole that held up a mannequin. Jammed through Traci’s back.

Someone had murdered Traci! Strangled her, then hung her from the pole like a plastic mannequin!

But who? And why?

As Reva watched, a trickle of blood wormed its way down a fold of Traci’s jacket. It gathered into a red drop, hung from the hem for a second, then broke free and splashed to the floor.

Reva tore her hands away from her mouth and screamed.

• • •

“It must have been so awful for you, Reva!” Ellie tucked a curly strand of red hair behind her ear and peered at Reva with a worried expression. “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should go home.”

“She can’t,” Liza pointed out. “The police want to talk to her, remember? They want to talk to all of us.” She sighed. “I wish they’d hurry up about it.”

Reva gazed around the big showroom. Traci’s body was gone, but the pool of caked blood remained. She glanced away, shuddering.

“I still can’t believe it,” Ellie murmured. “When Liza and I heard you scream, we knew something terrible had happened. But I never thought—” She swallowed hard. “Who hated Traci enough to kill her?”

Remembering Grant’s words from last night, Reva stared at Liza.

The dark-haired model sat with her arms folded and her legs crossed, one foot swinging back and forth. She looked worried and impatient.

But she didn’t look guilty.

Of course, she might be a great actress, Reva thought. She picked up a cup of coffee and glanced into it. The stuff had turned to sludge. She set it back down.

In the front of the room, the police were still busy taking photographs. Dusting things for fingerprints. Talking to each other in low voices.

Reva glanced at her watch. Two o’clock already. If only her father weren’t at that stupid all-day business meeting, he’d make the police let her go. She’d already told them everything she knew!

She jumped from the chair and began pacing. First she wanted to go home and soak in a hot tub. And then she needed to check her list of models and find a replacement for Traci. She just hoped her father didn’t decide to cancel the whole thing.

“What about the show?” Liza asked, as if she had read Reva’s mind. “Is it still on?”

Ellie gasped. “How can you talk about the show when Traci has been murdered?”

“Sorry, but it’s how I make a living,” Liza told her. “If it’s off, then I have to start looking for other work. What about it, Reva?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Reva replied. “I really can’t think about it now.”

Actually, she cared about the show as much as Liza did. More, probably. But why admit it? She didn’t want to look completely heartless—at least, not while the police were still around.

“Call me as soon as you can, will you?” Liza asked. “I need to know.” She glanced toward the group of police and shivered. “I really do feel bad about Traci, even though I didn’t like her. I wish Grant were here.”

Me, too, Reva thought.

“Miss Dalby?” A detective named Blake strode up. “Just a couple of questions, and then you can go.”

Finally! Reva thought.

Blake waved Liza and Ellie away, then turned to Reva. “I hope you understand, we have to talk to everybody who saw Miss Meecham yesterday.”

“Yes, but I already told you everything I know,” Reva said. At least ten times, she added silently.

Blake ran a hand over his balding head. “We’re trying to get a picture of her last day.”

“The last time I saw her alive was yesterday, in here,” Reva replied. “I’m staging a fashion show, and Traci is—was—one of the models.”

“And she didn’t tell you what her plans were for the rest of the day?”

Hardly. “No, she didn’t.”

“Did she seem upset or worried? Anything like that?”

Only upset because she had to work with me, Reva thought. She shook her head. “And I just don’t have any idea who’d want to kill her!”

Reva glanced over at Liza and remembered again Grant telling her how much Liza hated Traci.

“There could be fireworks,” he had warned.

Should she tell Detective Blake?

No. Not now, anyway.

Grant couldn’t possibly have meant anything like murder when he said that. And besides, Reva needed Liza for the show.

Reva made a point of looking at her watch, hoping the officer would take the hint. Two-fifteen! She’d scream if she didn’t get out of here soon.

“All right, Miss Dalby. Thanks for your time,” Blake told her. “If you think of anything, be sure to get in touch.”

“Of course.” Reva grabbed her jacket and bag and hurried out of the room before the detective could think of anything else to ask her.

As she stepped into the hallway, Grant’s words came back to her again. “Liza and Traci really hate each other. There could be fireworks.”

Forget it for now, Reva told herself. She zipped her jacket and hurried down the hallway. You have a show to put on.

If Liza had anything to do with Traci’s murder, let the police figure it out.

After all, that’s their job.

• • •

“Oh, no!” Reva groaned as she pulled her car to a stop in front of her house.

The battered, rusty VW sat in the drive, looking like a junkyard reject.

Groaning again, Reva stared at the front door. Pam and Willow must be inside. Why did they have to show up now, when she was so tired and upset? The last thing she wanted to do was talk to Pam and her creepy, mean-eyed friend.

Maybe I can sneak past them, she thought, climbing out of the Miata. They’re probably in the living room again. All I have to do is make it up the stairs without them seeing me.

Carefully, Reva slid her key into the front door lock. She turned the handle silently, eased the door open and peered inside.

The foyer was empty.

So far, so good.

Staying on tiptoe, she took one step. Then another.

Something moved behind the door.

Reva started to turn.

Too late.

A hand came out of the shadows. Something glinted in the dim light.

A knife. A gleaming, sharp-bladed knife.

Before Reva could open her mouth to scream, the knife plunged deep into her back.

Chapter 14

“REVA SHOULD DIE NEXT”

“You’re dead, Reva!” a high-pitched voice cried out. “You’re dead meat!”

Reva stumbled and fell to her knees on the hard marble floor.

“I’ve got you now!” the voice cried. “You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead!”

“Huh?” Reva spun around.

Her little brother stood over her, a savage grin on his face. His ice blue eyes widened in anticipation as he raised the knife again.

“Michael, no!” Reva scrambled to her feet. “What are you doing?”

“Killing you!” Michael yelled. He raised the knife higher, then plunged it toward Reva’s chest.

Gasping, Reva threw up her arm to block it.

The blade slammed into her forearm.

And collapsed into the handle of the knife.

A retractable knife! Reva realized. A toy!

Furious, she grabbed Michael’s hand and wrenched the knife loose.

“Ow! You twisted my finger!” he wailed.

“Serves you right!” Reva snapped. “What do you think you’re doing? You scared me to death!”

“Good!” He grinned again. “That’s what the Evil Avenger is supposed to do!”

“Listen, Michael, I’m totally upset and exhausted!” Reva said. “I’m definitely not in the mood for your stupid games!”

“It’s not a game!” he protested. “The Evil Avenger never plays games!”

As Reva scowled at him, footsteps sounded behind her. She jumped and spun around.

The droopy-haired maid stood in the living room doorway.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Reva snapped.

“Sorry, Miss,” the maid muttered. “I came to tell you that you have visitors. They’re waiting for you in the living room.”

“No kidding.” Reva rolled her eyes. Daddy absolutely had to get rid of this one! “Next time I’m not here, don’t let anyone come in and wait for me.”

“Sorry.” The maid blew a strand of hair away from her face. “Shall I tell them you’re here now?”

“Not yet,” Reva said impatiently. “First, I’m going up to my room. I’ll be back down when I’m good and ready.”

As Reva turned away, Michael dove after her. Laughing wickedly, he snatched the fake knife from her hand and raced up the stairs.

Reva stared after him. Talk about a disturbed kid! No wonder Daddy is worried. Ever since my kidnapping, all Michael does is act out these violent fantasies.

I’m glad that’s all they are—fantasies!

• • •

Pam sat in one of the big wing-chairs near the fireplace in the living room. “I wish Reva would hurry up,” she declared.

Willow snorted. “I have the feeling she’s going to take her sweet time about coming down to see us.”

“The maid said she looked upset,” Pam reminded her. “I don’t blame her. I mean, she’s the one who found Traci.” She shivered. “Not even Reva could stay cool after finding a strangled girl with a pole jammed through her back. Maybe she’s lying down for a few minutes.”

“A few long minutes,” Willow complained, glancing at the clock on the mantel. “Look, what happened to Traci is awful. But it’s not like she was Reva’s best friend or anything. Right?”

“Hardly,” Pam said. “They couldn’t stand each other. I think Uncle Robert forced Reva to hire Traci to model the scarves.”

“To model our scarves, you mean.” Willow paced back and forth in front of the windows. “Come on, Pam. Reva might be upset. But that’s not why she’s hanging out in her room right now.”

“You’re probably right,” Pam agreed, sighing. “She likes to keep people waiting. Especially me—her own cousin!”

“We’ll just outwait her, that’s all.” Willow continued to pace, her face hard and determined. “We have to get her to make that business deal with us.”

“I know.” Pam felt annoyed with herself. They should never have let Reva get her hands on those scarves until they had some kind of contract. “I feel like such a jerk. I mean, I know Reva! She uses everybody, and now she’s using us.”

Willow laughed harshly. “Not for much longer. You can count on that.”

Pam stared at her. Dressed in black, pacing back and forth, Willow reminded her of a panther on the prowl. “What do you mean?” she asked. “If she doesn’t make a deal with us, do you think we should take the scarves back or something?”

“Maybe,” Willow muttered. “Or maybe—” She broke off as Reva entered the living room.

Pam jumped up from the chair. “Reva, hi. How are you?”

“Oh . . .” Reva sighed and shook her head. “Still kind of in shock, I guess. I really need to rest.”

“It’s terrible about Traci,” Pam agreed. She cleared her throat. “Listen, Willow and I know this is a bad time. But we have to work out a business arrangement with you. We need some sort of contract.”

“Are you crazy?” Reva’s blue eyes blazed. “There was a murder! I’ve been through a total nightmare! I found the body, remember?”

“Like you’re really going to let anybody forget,” Willow muttered.

Reva frowned at her, then turned back to Pam. “I can’t believe you two actually came here to talk business when one of my models is dead!”

“You don’t have to shout,” Pam told her. “I feel awful about Traci. But we still have to think about the show.”

“The show?” Reva asked sarcastically. “You can probably forget the show. The murder happened in the middle of Dalby’s, in case you’ve forgotten. Daddy is probably going to cancel the whole thing!”

“Oh, no!” Pam felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Cancel the show? After all the work they had done? “Reva, do you really think he’ll—”

Before Pam could finish, Robert Dalby strode into the room. He nodded a greeting to Pam and Willow, then held his arms out to Reva. “Honey, are you all right?”

“Daddy!” Reva cried, rushing over to him. “I’m so glad you’re here! I’m so upset about Traci!”

“It’s terrible—terrible!” Mr. Dalby agreed, hugging her. “I was so worried about you when I heard the news!”

“I’m fine,” Reva assured him. “I mean, it was awful and everything, but I’m okay.”

“Thank goodness.” Mr. Dalby gave her another hug.

“Daddy, what about my fashion show?” Reva asked. “Are you going to cancel it?”

Robert Dalby frowned. “No,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t see any real reason to.”

Pam exchanged a glance with Willow. Willow tilted her head toward Uncle Robert and mouthed the words, Tell him now.

Pam nodded. “That’s really great, Uncle Robert,” she said. “Now Willow and I can go ahead and work out our business agreement with Reva.”

Her uncle stared at her in surprise. “Why, Pam, are you involved in Reva’s scarf show, too?”

• • •

Reva’s scarf show! Pam gritted her teeth and took a deep breath as she and Willow drove away from the Dalby mansion a few minutes later.

Uncle Robert still didn’t have a clue that she and Willow had designed the scarves. Just as Pam had started to tell him the truth, the maid interrupted. He had an urgent call from New York. Uncle Robert rushed upstairs to take it.

And Reva—still pretending to be freaked out over Traci—told them she had to lie down. “We’ll talk business some other time,” she promised.

Sure, Pam thought.

Some other lifetime.

“Can you believe it?” she asked, glancing at Willow. “Reva didn’t even tell Uncle Robert that we’re making all the scarves. She’s taking credit for everything!”

“I can believe it.” Willow gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Reva should die next,” she declared in a harsh, angry voice. “She really should.”

“Willow!” Pam cried, shocked. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t ever talk like that again. I mean it!”

Willow’s lips curved in a grim smile, and her eyes flashed with a cruel anger.

A chill ran up Pam’s spine as she gazed at her friend’s expression.

I haven’t known her that long, Pam thought. She’s tough, I know that much. Very tough.

But she isn’t really capable of murder.

Is she?

Chapter 15

PHONE CALLS

“Rory, no! Please!” Grace sat tensely on the edge of the bed, clutching the phone with both hands. “Please go away. You got what you came for, didn’t you?”

She heard Rory’s laugh—and flinched as if he’d hit her. So much bitterness in his voice! So much hatred!

What had she done to make him hate her so much?

Rory continued talking, but the words didn’t matter. All Grace heard was the savage fury behind them. Her heart pounded in her chest and her hands were so slick with sweat she almost dropped the phone.

“Stop it!” she gasped, breaking into the stream of hatred pouring into her ear. “Rory, please, please go away! Get out of Shadyside and leave me alone!” She gently fingered her black eye. “Haven’t you hurt me enough? Aren’t you satisfied yet?”

Rory didn’t bother to answer. He just started in where he’d left off. It’s as if he didn’t even hear me! Grace thought. He doesn’t care how I feel.

All Rory cares about is revenge!

“You’re crazy!” she cried, interrupting him again. “Do you hear me? You’re totally—”

Grace broke off suddenly and looked up.

Reva stood in the doorway, staring at her with a mixture of curiosity and distaste. “Is that Rory?” Reva whispered.

Grace shook her head. If Reva knew it was Rory, she would insist on calling the police. And I can’t! Grace thought. I’m afraid of what might happen!

Grace spoke quickly into the phone. “Sorry, I have to go now. Bye.” She hung up and forced a smile. “Hi, Reva.”

“That wasn’t Rory?” Reva asked.

“No, it was my mother,” Grace lied. “She called while I was on the other line.”

Reva raised an eyebrow skeptically.

Grace stood up and walked to the dresser. “I made the big mistake of telling her about Traci. She got all upset and thought I should come home.” She peered into the mirror and flicked her fingers through her hair. “You know what mothers are like,” she added with a sigh.

“Not really.” Reva lowered her eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Grace cried. “Your mother is dead—I almost forgot. It was stupid of me to say that.” She peered at Reva in the mirror. “Anyway, I’m glad your father didn’t cancel the scarf show.”

Reva gave her a satisfied smile. “Not as glad as I am. I’m sorry Traci is dead, but that show is really important to me. It would have been dumb to cancel it when I can get another model just like that” She snapped her fingers. “Besides, the show must go on—right?”

“Definitely.” Grace picked up a bottle of foundation makeup and shook it. “Listen, want to go out and do something together tonight? I think this stuff will cover the bruise around my eye so I won’t look like a raccoon.”

“No. I have a date tonight.” Reva checked her watch. “That’s what I came to tell you. I have to leave in a few minutes. Daddy’s going to drop me off on his way to his dinner meeting.”

“That’s okay.” Grace set the makeup down. Her hand still trembled from Rory’s phone call. “Actually, I’m still feeling kind of beat. I think I’ll stay here and just take it easy.”

“Whatever.” Reva smoothed her hair and strode to the door. “Catch you later.”

“Sure. Have fun.”

“Oh, I will,” Reva assured her with a grin. “I definitely will.”

As Reva closed the door, Grace collapsed onto the bed again. Reva didn’t believe that call was from my mother, Grace thought. But at least she didn’t keep questioning me about Rory.

Grace eyed the bedside phone warily. It stayed silent.

But Rory will call back. I know he will. It’s only a matter of time.

Rory isn’t finished with me yet.

• • •

Reva sat in the booth at Pete’s and tapped her foot impatiently.

Grant was five minutes late.

Where is he? she wondered, annoyed. Doesn’t he know I need him? He has to know about Traci. Liza must have told him I found her body. He should have been here waiting for me, worried about me!

Reva took a sip of her soda, then glanced around the pizza place. Still no sign of Grant.

If he doesn’t show up in three more minutes, I’m out of here. I’ll go home and . . . and what? Hang out with Grace?

What fun, she thought sarcastically. We can sit around and watch her bruise turn yellow.

Too bad Grace’s mother hadn’t insisted that she come home. Actually, Reva was surprised Grace hadn’t jumped at the excuse to get out of Shadyside. With Rory stalking her and Traci murdered, wouldn’t she feel safer at home?

But no! Never mind that she walked around shaking like a leaf and jumping at shadows, Grace wanted to stay.

And I’m stuck with her, Reva thought gloomily.

“Hey, why the long face?” Grant asked, sliding into the booth next to Reva. “Sorry, that was a stupid question,” he added, slipping an arm around her shoulder. “You must still be freaked about Traci.”

“Of course I am.” Reva gave him a cool look. “Plus, you’re late, Grant.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “Hey, don’t be angry.”

Reva kissed him back, breathing deeply. His skin was cold and smelled of the outdoors. “I’m not too angry, I guess,” she murmured. “But I thought you’d understand how upset I am. About Traci, I mean. And I thought you’d be here waiting for me. I was counting on it.”

“I wanted to be here sooner, but . . .” Grant pulled away and shrugged out of his jacket.

“But what?”

“Something came up.” He smoothed his dark hair and smiled nervously. “So. Did you order yet?”

Reva shook her head. “What came up?” she asked.

Grant’s smile faded and he sighed. “Liza.”

“Liza?” Reva sat up straight and gazed at him icily. “You were with Liza? Is that why you were late?”

“No, nothing like that,” he replied. “She called me earlier to tell me about Traci. But I haven’t seen her today.”

“I don’t get it,” Reva told him. “You weren’t with Liza, but she’s the reason you’re late?”

“Yeah. I just can’t help feeling guilty about sneaking around behind her back,” Grant admitted. “When she called, she asked if we could get together tonight. I made up some excuse, and she bought it. Didn’t even suspect I was lying.”

“So? What are you worried about?”

“I’m worried she’ll find out.” Grant sighed again. “I’m worried about lying. I’m just . . . I don’t know—feeling guilty.”

Oh, this is fun, Reva thought. A guy who’s going to cry on my shoulder because he feels guilty about cheating on his girlfriend. This is almost as much fun as staying home with Grace!

Still, Grant is awfully cute. And I really do need him now, with everything I’m going through.

I deserve Grant.

And I know how to get him.

Smiling sweetly, Reva put her hand on Grant’s arm. “Listen, if you feel that way about Liza, maybe we should just forget the whole thing,” she told him.

“No!” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I don’t want that, Reva. I really don’t.”

Reva smiled. “Good. I need you much more than Liza does. So forget about her, okay?” She leaned close and kissed him.

Grant kissed her back, softly at first. Then harder. “I’ll try,” he whispered.

“Don’t try,” Reva whispered back in a throaty voice. “Do it!”

• • •

As Grant drove Reva home a little while later, Reva leaned her head back and gazed out the car window.

Shadyside looked like a Christmas-card town. Snow on the ground. Wreaths on the telephone poles. Snowmen in the yards and colored lights strung on every tree and bush.

I wish I could get into the spirit, Reva thought. Maybe when the scarf show is a hit, I’ll feel more in the mood.

At home on the porch, she gave Grant a long kiss. “I can’t wait to see you again,” she murmured, her lips against his cheek. “Let’s meet again tomorrow, after I’m finished working.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Reva glanced at him. “Why? You don’t have other plans, do you?”

Grant hesitated for just a second, then shook his head. “I’m all yours, Reva.”

“Good. That’s the way I like it.” She kissed him again, then slipped into the house. It was only eight-thirty. Not wanting to spend any time with Grace, she ran quietly up the stairs and tiptoed past Grace’s room to her own.

As she opened her door, the phone rang.

Grant? she wondered hopefully.

No, he just left. And his car didn’t have a phone.

It’s probably Pam, she decided. Pam the Pest. Honestly, doesn’t she realize that I have more important things to think about than a business contract with her? Doesn’t she know that without me, the only way she and Willow can sell those scarves is to peddle them on the street?

For a second, Reva was tempted not to answer the phone. But she changed her mind. Before the phone could ring a third time, Reva hurried across the room and snatched it up. “Yes?” she answered impatiently.

“Reva.”

The voice was low and raspy. It didn’t belong to Pam. It didn’t belong to anyone Reva knew. “Yes?” she repeated. “Who is this?”

“That doesn’t matter,” the caller rasped.

“What are you—”

“Shut up, Reva! Just listen to what I say. Are you listening?”

Reva gripped the phone and nodded.

“Are you?” the voice demanded angrily.

“Yes! I’m listening!” Reva replied.

“You deserve what Traci got.”

Traci! A chill of fear ran down Reva’s spine.

“Did you hear me, Reva?” the caller rasped. “I’ll tell you again just in case you missed it. You deserve what Traci got!”

Chapter 16

THE MURDERED

“Who is this?” Reva demanded again.

“Traci is dead, the caller whispered, ignoring Reva’s question. “Remember how she died?”

The image of Traci flashed into Reva’s mind. Hanging from the pole, her eyes bulging lifelessly.

Blood snaking down her jacket.

The caller gave a short, vicious laugh. “Come on, Reva, you know exactly what I mean!”

Murder! That’s what the caller meant. That Reva should be murdered, just like Traci.

Reva gripped the phone, almost frozen with fear. She was actually talking with Traci’s killer—and now the killer was after her!

“I wish I could see you right now, Reva,” the caller whispered. “You’re probably shaking, wondering where to hide.”

Without meaning to, Reva glanced at her reflection in the mirror across the room. The caller was right—she looked terrified. Pale and big-eyed and helpless.

Get a grip, she thought, scowling at herself. You’re not in danger. Not at the moment anyway.

And you’re not helpless, either.

Quickly, Reva stared down at the phone. Thank goodness for caller I.D. She yanked open the nightstand drawer, grabbed a pencil and her telephone book, and copied the caller’s number from the caller I.D. screen.

“Remember what I said, Reva,” the voice rasped. “I’ll be in touch.”

The caller hung up.

You’re not going to be in touch with anybody, Reva thought.

Smiling grimly, she punched in the number of the Shadyside Police Department.

“This is Reva Dalby,” she announced to the officer who answered. “I want to talk to Detective Blake.”

“What’s this about?” the officer asked in a bored tone.

“It’s about Traci Meecham,” Reva said. “Tell Detective Blake that I just got a call from her murderer. A threatening call.” She paused dramatically. “I also have the number the call was made from.”

Sounding more interested, the officer took the number and told Reva to wait for a call back.

Twenty minutes later, the phone rang. “Miss Dalby, this is Detective Blake. We picked up your caller. We’d like you to come down to the station and make an identification.”

“Who is it?” Reva cried. But Blake had already hung up.

Reva grabbed her coat and hurried out to her car.

A cold wind blew icy snowflakes against the windshield as she drove through the streets. Reva turned the heater up full-blast, but she couldn’t stop shivering.

She was actually going to see the murderer face to face.

Who was it?

Who?

Who wants to do the same thing to me?

Still shivering, Reva parked her car and ran into the station.

Detective Blake met her inside the door. “Thanks for coming. This way,” he told her, striding off down a brightly lit hallway, the floor covered in mud-colored linoleum.

“Who is it?” Reva asked, hurrying after him. “Where did you find him? Or her? I didn’t recognize the phone number. Was it a phone booth?”

Without answering, Blake stopped in front of a door, turned the handle, and pushed it open.

Reva felt nervous, but angry, too. Angry at having been threatened. Eager to point the finger at her caller, she took a deep breath and strode inside.

A police officer stood against one wall, sipping from a Styrofoam cup. He looked relaxed, almost bored. But his eyes never left the beat-up wooden table in the center of the room.

Reva’s eyes snapped to the person sitting at the table.

She stopped, stunned.

“You?” she gasped in surprise.

Chapter 17

LOST IN THE SNOW

Daniel Powell sat in the chair, his eyes wide with panic as he stared back at Reva.

“You?” she repeated. “You killed Traci?”

“No!” Daniel leaped up, toppling his chair.

In a flash, the uniformed officer pushed away from the wall. He clapped one big hand on Daniel’s shoulder and used the other to pick up the chair. “Sit!” he ordered in a gravelly voice.

Daniel slowly sat down. His breath came hard and fast, as if he’d been running.

Detective Blake glanced at Reva. “I take it you know him?”

Reva nodded. “Yeah. From college.” She turned back to Daniel. “Why would you kill Traci? You didn’t even know her!”

“You’re right. I didn’t know her! And I didn’t kill her!” Daniel insisted. “Reva, you have to believe me!”

“Why should I?” she asked suspiciously. “I mean, you called me up and threatened me. You told me I deserve the same thing! Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because I’m telling the truth!” Daniel raked his fingers through his sandy hair. “Look. I admit I called Reva tonight,” he said to Detective Blake. “And I told you why.”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Reva suggested coldly. “What did I ever do to deserve such a horrible call?”

“I already told you,” Daniel declared. “I came down to Shadyside as a surprise, and you pretended you didn’t even know me. I was so steamed, Reva. I still am. So I made that call tonight to scare you. To pay you back for treating me like dirt!”

“And is that why you killed Traci?” Reva demanded. “To pay me back for a harmless little joke?”

“I didn’t kill her!” Daniel shouted. “How many times do I have to say it? I didn’t kill Traci!”

Daniel started to rise again. The officer shot him a warning glance. Daniel dropped back down, shaking his head, his gaze lowered to the floor.

“You’ve got quite a temper, don’t you, son?” Blake asked him. “Is that what happened last year in high school—you lost your temper?”

Daniel didn’t respond.

“What do you mean?” Reva asked Blake. “What did he do last year in high school?”

“Beat up a buddy,” Blake told her. “Got arrested for assault.”

Reva stared at Daniel, horrified. She had actually gone out with this guy!

“He wasn’t a buddy,” Daniel declared. “He ripped off some stuff from the school and then pointed the finger at me. Got me in major trouble. When I found out, I let him have it. He deserved it.”

“The way Traci deserved to die?” Blake asked.

Daniel’s face flushed and he clenched his fists. “I did not kill her,” he insisted, almost spitting the words out. “I called Reva to scare her. But that’s it, you hear me? You can’t prove I did anything else!”

“We’ll see.” Blake nodded at Reva. “Let’s go to my desk so you can give your statement. Then you can go home.”

Reva glanced coldly at Daniel, then turned and followed Blake out of the room.

“What did you do to get him so steamed?” Blake asked as they walked down the dark hall.

“He showed up at my house late at night, and I told the security guard I didn’t know him,” Reva explained. “I don’t know what the big deal was. I told Daniel the next day that I was only kidding.”

Blake raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t think it was very funny either.

Reva shrugged. Some people just couldn’t take a joke.

Blake stopped at a metal desk and gestured for Reva to sit in the chair across from it. As he pulled a form from one of the drawers, Reva glanced around.

Mustard-yellow walls, chipped brown linoleum, and grimy windows. It’s worse than tacky, she thought. How can he work in this dump?

Brushing dust from the chair, Reva sat down and sighed. The whole place smelled of burned coffee. Her stomach felt queasy. Her head started to pound. She wanted to go home. Hadn’t she done enough by coming down to identify Daniel?

Blake fed the form into a typewriter and began punching keys with two fingers.

Hello! Reva thought. Welcome to the twentieth century. Hadn’t the Shadyside police heard of computers?

“Spell your name, please,” Blake requested. “Last one first.”

Reva sighed again. “D, A—”

The desk phone rang.

Blake answered quickly.

Maybe he’ll have to leave, Reva thought hopefully. She tapped her burgundy-colored nails on the chair arm and watched Blake’s face for signs that he’d been called out on another case.

The detective listened for a few seconds, frowning. “You’re sure?” he asked. “No doubt?”

Another pause. Blake’s frown deepened.

Reva glanced at her watch and swung her foot impatiently.

“Okay. Thanks.” Blake hung up and puffed out a big breath of air. “Well. Looks like Daniel was telling the truth.”

“What do you mean?” Reva asked. “You mean he didn’t kill Traci?”

The detective shook his head. “He has an alibi for the night of the murder. He wasn’t anywhere near the store.”

“Are you sure?”

“My officers just confirmed it,” Blake told her. “The alibi is rock-solid. We’ll have to let him go.”

Reva’s headache suddenly throbbed harder.

Blake turned back to the typewriter. “We might as well take down your statement, though, so you can press charges on that phone call.”

Reva stood up. “I’ll have to think about that,” she told him.

“He threatened you, Miss Dalby,” Blake reminded her. “But we can’t do anything about it unless you tell us to.”

“Right now I just want to go home. It’s been a horrible night, and I’m exhausted,” Reva declared. “I’ll be in touch.”

As she hurried down the hall toward the exit, Reva fumbled in her pocket for the car keys. One of the keys caught on the lining. She bent her head to untangle it.

And crashed into Daniel.

Daniel reached out to steady her.

“Get away from me!” she snapped.

“Okay, okay.” Daniel backed away and zipped up his jacket. “Just listen a second. I’m sorry about the phone call. Really. It was stupid. I didn’t mean it.”

Reva gazed at a spot on the wall, as if Daniel didn’t exist.

“Oh, forget it!” he exclaimed. “I’m out of here. I don’t know why I’m wasting my breath apologizing to you.”

Reva didn’t know why either. Did he really expect her to forgive him? She held herself still, waiting for him to leave.

“Just remember this, Reva,” Daniel muttered as he turned away and shoved the door open. “Sooner or later you’re going to get what’s coming to you.”

A cold wind blew in as the door swung shut behind him.

He actually threatened me again! Reva thought with a shiver. Right here in the police station! The guy must be nuts!

Should she go back and tell Detective Blake?

Reva glanced down the ugly hallway and quickly decided to go home instead. She could call Blake from there, where it was warm and comfortable. If she had to stay in this place one more second, her head would explode.

Untangling the car keys from her pocket, she turned up her jacket collar and hurried outside.

The snow had started to stick. Reva made her way slowly down the slippery steps and onto the sidewalk. The wind howled, pelting her face with icy flakes. She’d be lucky not to come down with pneumonia before this night was over!

Bending her head and squinting her eyes against the stinging flakes, Reva hurried down the sidewalk. When she spotted her car, she began to run.

Her foot came down on a patch of ice. As she flung her arms out to keep from falling, the keys flew from her hand and landed in the snow at the edge of the sidewalk.

Just great! A perfect ending to a perfectly hideous night!

Shivering and disgusted, Reva began searching for the keys. As she scuffed at the snow with her shoe, she heard a sound behind her.

Footsteps.

She glanced around. “Hello?”

No one came into view. Reva saw the hulks of parked cars and the deep shadows between the streetlights.

She turned back, searching the snow-covered grass, hoping to spot the keys and get out of here.

Where were the stupid things? They had to be here somewhere!

More footsteps.

Reva spun around. “Who’s there?” she called. The wind whipped the words from her mouth.

Still no answer.

Still no sign of anyone.

Reva shivered again, but not from the cold.

“Who’s there? Is someone there?”

Chapter 18

BAD NEWS FROM DAD

More footsteps, closer this time.

Forget about the keys! Reva told herself. You’re close to the police station. Run back inside and get help!

Her heart pounding, Reva began to run.

A shadow rose up from between two parked cars.

Reva screamed and spun back in the opposite direction.

“Reva!” a voice cried. “Stop! It’s me!”

Reva tried to stop and slid on the ice. She caught herself and whirled around.

A figure came running toward her, into the glow of a streetlight.

Grace Morton.

Reva’s fear turned to fury. “Grace!” she shouted. “What are you doing here?”

“Sssh!” Gasping for breath, Grace scurried along the icy sidewalk. The wind had whipped her wispy brown hair into a tangled mess. Her nose was bright red and her teeth chattered. “Don’t shout, you might—”

“Why did you sneak up on me like that?” Reva cried. “You scared me to death!”

“Not so loud!” Grace urged, grabbing hold of Reva’s arm. “I wasn’t sneaking up on you.”

“You could have fooled me!” Reva snapped.

“It wasn’t me!” Grace glanced around in a panic. “It must have been Rory!”

“What? Rory is out here?”

“Yes. He’s after me. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Grace cried. “He’s out of control! He says he’s going to kill me—and you, too! He’s going to kill you for hiding me!”

Reva felt a flash of terror. Her heart thundering, she hurried back to the spot where she’d dropped her keys.

“What are you doing?” Grace demanded. “Your car is over there!”

“I dropped the keys!” Reva cried. “Don’t just stand there, Grace. Help me find them!”

Grace hurried over and began scuffing at the snow along with Reva. “Hurry!” she urged, practically whimpering with fear. “He’s crazy! Crazy! We have to hurry!”

Gasping in panic, Reva scraped in the snow with the side of her shoe. Something jingled. “I found them!” she cried.

She bent over to pick them up.

“He’s coming! Hurry, Reva!” Grace exclaimed.

Reva snatched up the keys and dashed toward her car, afraid to look back. Afraid to see Rory bearing down on them.

At the car, Reva fumbled with the keys, trying to find the right one.

Grace whimpered again.

Should we run into the station? Reva wondered. No. Let’s just get away from here!

She finally found the key and jammed it into the lock. She yanked open the door and threw herself inside, scrabbling frantically to get the key into the ignition.

Grace pounded on the passenger window.

Reva turned the key and hit the power-lock button.

Grace tumbled into the seat. “I saw him!” she cried, her teeth chattering. “Get us out of here! Hurry!”

Reva gunned the engine, put the car in gear, and stomped on the accelerator.

The car shot forward, then stopped as the tires whined and spun on the ice.

Grace cowered in her seat.

Reva gritted her teeth and put the car in reverse. She rocked it back, then forward again.

Finally, the tires caught.

Reva floored the gas pedal and the car leaped forward with a roar. The speedometer shot up to sixty as the car hurtled down the street. Reva let up on the gas.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry!” Grace kept urging.

“I have to slow down or we’ll spin out of control!” Reva glanced in the rearview mirror. The street was empty. No cars. No one running after them on foot. “Besides, there’s nobody behind us. We made it, Grace!”

Grace hunched down in the seat, shivering. “We’ll never make it,” she muttered. “Not for good, anyway. Rory will always be after me.”

Reva turned off of Division Street. “This is crazy,” she declared. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I panicked. We should have run into the police station. I should turn around. Go back. So you can get them to arrest Rory.”

“No!” Grace bolted up in the seat. “Don’t do that! Please, Reva! Rory will kill me if he finds out I went to the police! He’ll kill us both!”

“According to you, he’s going to do that anyway.” Reva shuddered and flipped the heater on high. “Did he really say he’d kill me, too?”

Grace nodded. “And if he finds out I told the police, he’ll just go into hiding. Trust me. He’s very sneaky. They’ll never find him. And just when we think it’s safe, he’ll show up and get us!”

Reva shuddered again. Would she have to look over her shoulder the rest of her life just because she’d been nice enough to invite Grace home for the holidays?

Remind me never to do anything that nice again, she told herself. It’s definitely not worth it.

“What happened, anyway?” she asked as she turned another corner, heading into North Hills. “Did Rory come to the house?”

“He called,” Grace told her. “He said he was close. Real close. I didn’t believe him at first. But a few minutes later, I heard the dogs barking like mad. When I looked out the window, I saw him!”

“Inside the grounds? Where was the guard?” Reva demanded.

“Rory wasn’t inside the grounds, he was outside the gate.” Grace held her raw, cold hands in front of the heating vent. “I didn’t see the guard. Maybe he was trying to quiet the dogs or something.”

“Rory would never make it past the dogs or the guard,” Reva told her. “You should have stayed in the house.”

“Maybe, but I panicked,” Grace admitted. “I couldn’t help it, I just had to get out. I ran out the back way and kept running until I got downtown.”

Too bad you stopped there, Reva thought. You should have kept running—right out of my life.

“I’m sorry,” Grace murmured. “I know I’m causing you a lot of trouble, Reva.”

Reva rolled her eyes. Then why don’t you just pack up and go home? she thought.

Reva sighed. “It’s not just you,” she told Grace. “Daniel made this awful phone call to me. That’s why I was down at the police station. He actually told me I deserved what Traci got. Can you believe it? All because of that stupid joke I pulled.”

Grace shook her head. “That’s awful. I guess you hurt his feelings.”

Reva sniffed. “Oh, please! I mean, I didn’t ask him to come! Daniel is a loser, that’s all. I’m glad I met Grant.”

“I bet Liza isn’t glad,” Grace murmured.

Reva snorted. “If she can’t hold onto her boyfriend, that’s her problem. Besides,” she added, “I really need Grant, with everything that’s going on.”

“You mean Traci’s death?” Grace asked. “That was so terrible.”

Reva nodded. “And it really messed up the scarf show. The first one is tomorrow, you know, and we never really got a chance to rehearse. I’ll have to hire a new model first thing in the morning. I just hope she doesn’t fall on her face.”

“I’m sure everything will go okay,” Grace assured her.

“It better,” Reva declared. “The scarf show is really important to me. I can’t let anything ruin it.”

As Reva pulled to a stop in front of her house, Grace sat up, tense again.

Reva glanced around warily. She hadn’t seen a car following them, but that didn’t mean anything. Rory might have come a different way.

Still, everything seemed quiet. “If Rory were here, the dogs would be barking,” she told Grace. “Come on. Let’s get inside.”

As they left the car and dashed up the front steps, the door swung open.

Reva’s father stood there, a grim expression on his face.

“Daddy!” Reva cried. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I have some news, Reva,” Mr. Dalby told her, his voice as grim as his expression. “Some very bad news.”

Chapter 19

ANOTHER FRIGHTENING
CALL

Grace gasped. “It’s Rory, isn’t it? I know it is! What happened? What did he do?”

Mr. Dalby stared at her. “I’m sorry, Grace. I don’t know what you mean. Who’s this Rory?”

“Never mind that now, Daddy!” Reva cried. “You look so upset. What is it?”

“Take off your coat and come into the living room,” her father told her. “Grace, if you’ll excuse us?”

“What? Oh, sure.” Grace hurried toward the stairs. “See you upstairs, Reva.”

Reva tossed her jacket on the foyer table and followed her father into the living room. What was going on?

Mr. Dalby stood in front of the fireplace and gazed sternly across the room at her.

“Daddy, tell me what happened!” Reva pleaded. “Is it Michael? Is something wrong with him?”

“Your brother is fine,” Mr. Dalby snapped. “No, this is about you, Reva.”

“Me?” Reva’s mind raced as she tried to figure out what she could possibly have done to make her father so upset.

“Your cousin Pam and her friend paid me a visit about an hour ago. They had some interesting things to say. Interesting—and disturbing.”

Uh-oh. It’s about the scarves, Reva thought. They came over here and blabbed their mouths off!

“I’m extremely disappointed in you,” Mr. Dalby declared. “You led me to believe that you had designed those scarves. How could you lie to me like that?”

“Daddy, I—”

“And then you refused to draw up a business contract with the real designers!” her father interrupted. “You were going to cheat them, Reva! How could you even think of doing such a thing?”

“Daddy, you don’t understand!” Reva cried. “I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to make you think I designed the scarves. And I didn’t refuse to make a business arrangement with Pam and Willow. I planned to be very fair with them. It’s all a big misunderstanding. I was going to tell you everything!”

“Oh? Why didn’t you?”

“I just got so busy,” she explained. “I want the scarf show to be absolutely perfect. And it’s a lot of work to do in just a couple of days. And then . . .”

“Yes?”

Reva lowered her eyes and sniffed. “Then Traci was killed,” she continued in a quivery voice. “It was just so horrible I forgot to tell you about Pam and Willow!”

Mr. Dalby remained silent.

Reva kept her head down and peered up at him through her eyelashes.

Good. He didn’t look so grim anymore. He was definitely softening up. “I’m sorry,” she repeated softly. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you.”

“Well. . .” Her father cleared his throat. “I know Traci’s death was a shock. But really, Reva, you should have told me about Pam and her friend at the very beginning.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I planned to, but—”

“They were upset and they had every right to be.”

“Yes.” Reva clenched her teeth.

“I worked out an arrangement with the two girls. A generous arrangement,” he added.

“Oh, good!” Reva gushed. “Thanks for taking care of it, Daddy.”

Her father nodded.

So Pam and Willow have their precious contract, Reva thought. Big deal. I’ll still be running the show.

“Listen, Daddy, I’d better go get ready for bed,” she told him. “I have to be at the store early. Tomorrow is the first show, and I want it to go really well.”

“It better,” her father warned. “Because if one more thing goes wrong—just one more thing—I’ll have no choice. I’ll have to cancel the show.”

“Don’t worry, Daddy, everything will be perfect,” she assured him. “I promise.”

Reva kissed her father on the cheek, then quickly hurried from the living room.

Climbing the stairs, she seethed with anger as she thought about everything that had happened in the past few hours.

The threatening phone call from Daniel. Sitting in that hideous police station. Being chased by Grace’s crazy ex-boyfriend.

And to top off the totally horrible night, her own cousin had gone behind her back. Pam had actually snitched on her about the scarves!

Now Daddy is angry at me, she thought. He said he would cancel the show if anything else happens.

And he meant it!

Humiliated, Reva marched down the hall. The guest room door opened.

“Is everything okay?” Grace murmured anxiously.

“You don’t have to whisper!” Reva snapped. “This isn’t a funeral parlor!”

“Sorry.” Grace looked hurt. “Your father seemed upset and I wondered what was wrong.”

“What could be wrong?” Reva asked sarcastically. “Everything’s perfect. Just perfect!” She frowned. “You really should put some of that makeup on your eye,” she added bluntly. “That bruise makes you look like a panda bear.”

Grace nervously touched her eye. “I was going to put some makeup on. Then Rory called and I forgot. I guess I didn’t realize how ugly it is. Sorry.”

“Oh, forget it.” Reva took a deep breath. “I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow.”

Grace slipped back into the guest room, and Reva strode away, still annoyed. Grace was such a mouse! She probably shouldn’t have snapped at her like that, but she couldn’t help it.

On second thought, maybe she should keep snapping at her. Then Grace might pack her bags and go home.

Fat chance, Reva thought as she entered her room. The way things were going, Grace would probably move in for good.

As Reva crossed the room toward her closet, the phone rang.

She hurried to the nightstand, then stopped, biting her lip.

It might be Daniel again. What had he said at the police station? Sooner or later, you’ll get what’s coming to you. I definitely don’t need another call from him.

Or it could be Rory. He’s going to kill you, too, Grace said.

The phone rang again.

Reva’s hand hovered in the air.

Should she answer it?

Chapter 20

A PROBLEM AT THE
SCARF SHOW

Get a grip, Reva told herself.

If it’s Daniel again, the police will slap him in jail so fast he won’t know what hit him.

And if it’s Rory? Use caller I.D. and get him out of Grace’s life. And yours!

Reva took a deep breath and picked up the phone. “Who is it?” she demanded in a cold voice.

“It’s me, Reva. Grant.”

“Grant!” Reva sank down onto the bed, sighing in relief. “What a nice surprise!”

“Who were you expecting?” he asked. “Whoever it was better look out. You sounded ready to bite their head off.”

“I was, but never mind that,” Reva told him. She fluffed up her pillows and stretched out on the bed. “I’m so glad you called. I’ve had absolutely the worst night of my life. Plus I’m so stressed about the show tomorrow.” She smiled into the phone. “I’ll bet you called to wish me luck. That’s so sweet.”

“Uh, yeah, I do wish you luck.” Grant hesitated. “But that’s not exactly why I called.”

“Oh?”

“I. . .” Grant paused again.

Reva frowned. What was the matter with him? “You what?” she asked.

“Well, the thing is, I went home after our date this afternoon. And I still felt really guilty about Liza,” Grant told her in a rush. “And I think you and I should stop seeing each other.”

“Excuse me?” Reva sat up. “How can you say that? I thought you cared about me!”

“I do!” Grant insisted. “But I feel really guilty about sneaking around behind Liza’s back.”

Then stop sneaking and tell Liza it’s over, Reva wanted to say.

But she stopped herself. If Grant breaks it off, Liza might quit the show, she realized. I can’t let that happen. I need her.

And I need Grant, too. Much more than Liza does. Besides, I’ll be the one to decide when it’s over. Not him.

Reva tapped her nails on the bedside table, frustrated. Why did Grant have to wimp out on her tonight of all nights?

“Oh, Grant!” she said with a catch in her voice. “I don’t know what to say. I care about you so much!”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Of course I mean it,” Reva murmured in a low, sexy voice. “I thought we had something really special together. Every time I think about you, I get this shivery feeling. And I was so sure you felt the same way. But. . . I guess I was wrong.”

“Reva. . .” Grant hesitated, then took a deep breath. “No. No, you weren’t wrong.”

“But you said—”

“Forget what I said,” he interrupted. “I must have been crazy. I care about you, too, Reva. I want to go on seeing you.” He paused. “Are we still on for tomorrow night?”

“Definitely,” Reva purred into the phone. “I can’t wait.”

As she hung up, Reva smiled to herself. Talking Grant into staying with her hadn’t been too hard at all.

Maybe things were starting to go her way.

• • •

Reva’s heart fluttered nervously as she strode through Dalby’s the next morning. She had hired a replacement for Traci. A model named Maria. Ellie was taking Maria through the routine now. Reva hoped Maria was a quick study. The first Reva Wear show started in less than twenty minutes.

Excited and tense, Reva stuck her head into the small room where Pam and Willow worked. She expected to see them slaving away over the scarves. Instead, the two of them were lounging in their chairs, sipping coffee.

“What’s going on?” she snapped.

Pam jumped, startled, and slopped coffee onto her plaid skirt. “Reva, hi.” She grabbed a tissue and began mopping the stain. “Neither one of us had any breakfast,” she explained. She waved at an oil-stained paper sack on the worktable. “Want a doughnut?”

“No, I do not want a greasy doughnut,” Reva told her. “My stomach is in knots. Anyway, how can you sit there like that?”

“It’s pretty easy, actually,” Willow replied sarcastically. She ran a hand through her spiky blond hair and yawned. “I mean, we’ve only been working for two days straight. I might even take a nap.”

Reva glared at her. “The first show starts in a few minutes,” she declared in a clipped voice. “After that, the customers are going to start buying. So I want plenty of scarves in the store. The worst thing that can happen is that we run out.”

“We won’t run out,” Pam assured her.

“We will if you just sit there,” Reva shot back.

Willow stuck her hand in the sack and pulled out a powdered-sugar doughnut. “You should check the business agreement we made with your father,” she told Reva, taking a bite of the doughnut. “It doesn’t say anything about working twenty-four hours a day.”

“Oh, right, I forgot. Thanks for going behind my back like that,” Reva remarked acidly.

“We didn’t have any choice!” Pam cried. “We kept asking you about a contract. But you wouldn’t do anything!”

“Oh? Could it be that I’ve been too busy putting the entire scarf show together?” Reva asked. “Just remember, if it weren’t for me, there wouldn’t be any show at all. And if you want to make any money, you’d better drop the doughnuts and start sewing!”

With a final frown at Pam and her tacky sidekick, Reva turned and marched down the hall. As she rounded the corner, she spotted Daniel coming out of the stockroom. He carried a stack of cardboard boxes in his arms.

Daniel still works here! she realized with a shock. Remembering what he said last night, she felt a sudden chill. Sooner or later, you’ll get what’s coming to you.

Is that why he’s sticking around? To make trouble for me?

Well, we’ll see about that, she told herself. As soon as the show is over, I’ll get Daddy to fire him.

Daniel glanced up at Reva. He stopped and stared at her.

Reva walked on by as if he didn’t exist.

As far as she was concerned, he didn’t.

She rounded the corner, glancing nervously at her watch. Five minutes until the first show. It had to be perfect!

A sign stood at the entrance to the showroom. Reva Wear, it proclaimed. Hand-Painted, Hand-Sewn Scarves. Shows at Ten, Two, and Seven. A group of shoppers paused to read the sign, then entered the room.

Reva smiled and walked on, entering the showroom through a door that led to the backstage area. She strode to the red velvet curtain and peeked out at the seats.

The place was packed with shoppers, chattering in anticipation.

Reva felt a thrill of excitement.

“Reva, hi!” Ellie dashed up, followed by Maria. “Maria and I just finished going over the routine. She’s got it down perfectly.”

“Good.” Reva let the curtain drop and stared at the two models. Maria had dark hair, like Liza, while Ellie’s red hair was a perfect match for Reva’s.

“Well, we’re going to check our makeup,” Ellie told her. “Good luck!”

“Thanks.” Reva glanced at her watch again. It was time.

She fluffed her hair, then straightened the skirt of her short black dress and stepped through the curtain.

A hush fell over the audience.

Reva took a deep breath. “Welcome to the Reva Wear Show,” she announced into the microphone at the side of the stage. “Today you’ll be seeing the first in the Reva Wear designs—a beautiful collection of one-of-a-kind scarves. Dramatic. Unique. Presented and sold exclusively at Dalby’s.”

The curtain swung open, revealing the revolving door and the mannequins posed along the fake sidewalk. Colored spotlights lit up the stage, and Christmas music set to a rock beat throbbed into the room.

The audience applauded.

The music became lower, and Reva spoke into the microphone again. “Our first model is Liza!” she announced, waving her arm toward the revolving door.

The music swelled.

The audience gazed at the door.

Three seconds passed.

No one came through the door.

The audience waited.

Still no Liza.

Reva felt her face flush with embarrassment. What is Liza doing? How could she miss her cue and humiliate me like this?

Three more agonizing seconds dragged by.

In a panic, Reva stared past the revolving door and spotted Ellie and Maria, waiting to go on. Catching Ellie’s eye, she mouthed the words, “Where’s Liza?”

Ellie shook her head and shrugged, her blue eyes wide.

I’ll have to do it with two models, that’s all, Reva thought, fuming. And once it’s over, I’ll make sure Liza never gets another modeling job. Not at Dalby’s. Not in Shadyside! She’s finished!

Forcing a smile, Reva turned back to the audience. As she did, she noticed the mannequin at the far side of the stage.

The spotlights didn’t quite reach it, and most of it remained in shadow.

But enough of it showed for Reva to see that it was tilted on its pole.

The tail end of a green Reva Wear scarf dragged on the floor at its feet.

Reva’s gaze traveled up the scarf to the mannequin’s head.

It was bent at an odd angle.

Its shiny dark hair drooped over one eye.

The other eye was open.

Staring into Liza’s lifeless face, Reva began to scream.

PART THREE

Chapter 21

WHERE IS RORY?

The upbeat Christmas music stopped suddenly. But the colorful spotlights continued to sweep back and forth across the stage.

Stunned and confused, the audience fell totally silent.

No one moved.

“Liza’s dead!” Reva whispered, gazing in horror at the model’s body. “She’s dead! Strangled!”

Amplified by the microphone, Reva’s frightened, shaky voice blasted through the showroom.

The audience remained quiet for a moment.

And then a woman’s voice cried out, “She’s right. Look at that mannequin! It’s real! It’s a girl!”

Reva clutched the microphone and gaped in horror at the murdered model. At the green scarf, knotted so tightly around her neck. At her head, cocked at a weird angle. At her staring brown eye. Her body, held up by a pole stuck through her back. The pool of blood at her feet, drying to a rusty red.

The showroom erupted with shrieks and screams. Feet pounded and chairs crashed to the floor as frightened shoppers began to race from the room.

Dizzy and horrified, Reva gripped the microphone with both hands to keep herself from falling. I have to get out of here! she thought. I have to get out, or I’ll be sick!

But she couldn’t move. Her heart raced, but her legs felt frozen. All she could do was stare.

Ellie, her red hair blazing under the spotlight, stepped close to Liza. She reached out to touch the dead girl, then yanked her hand away and began to cry. Maria stood nearby, her face white with shock.

Reva tore her eyes away from Liza and gazed out at the showroom.

Panicked shoppers screamed and shoved one another, in a frenzy to get out.

A woman bumped against an overturned chair and fell to her knees. Another shopper slammed into her and knocked her to the floor, then scrambled over her and raced on.

Reva turned her head away and noticed two figures standing inside the doors at the far end of the room.

Two people, not moving. Not panicked or screaming. Just watching.

Pam and Willow.

Staring straight ahead.

Their faces blank.

Without any emotion at all.

Reva felt a chill. How can they look on so coldly? Don’t they care what happened?

As if they felt her staring at them, Pam and Willow shifted their gaze to Reva.

Their eyes were as blank and empty as their faces.

Reva shuddered as another chill ran down her spine. With a cry, she finally let go of the microphone, then turned and ran through the door at the side of the stage.

With every step she took, she felt Pam’s and Willow’s eyes on her back.

• • •

Almost two hours later, Reva left the storage room where the police were questioning people. She closed the door with a sigh.

She felt dazed and exhausted.

What’s the matter with the cops, anyway? she wondered as she pulled on her coat. They should be out catching the killer, not wasting time asking me questions.

The killer.

Reva shivered.

Traci and Liza, both murdered.

Both of them models in my show.

Am I next? Is someone out to get me?

Footsteps rounded the corner. Reva jumped, then gasped in relief as she saw Grant coming toward her. He walked slowly, his shoulders slumped and his face filled with sorrow.

“Grant!” Reva cried. Running down the hall, she threw her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re here! This is awful, so awful!”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice shaky. “I just talked to Liza’s parents.”

“I’m so upset!” Reva said, pressing against him. “Two murders. I just can’t believe this is happening! It was so horrible, seeing Liza hanging there like Traci! I thought I was going to faint!”

Reva nuzzled her head under his chin and pressed closer, waiting to feel his arms wrap around her.

But Grant just stood there, his arms hanging at his sides.

“Please, Grant, hold me!” she pleaded. “I’m so scared.”

Grant sighed and patted her on the shoulder.

Reva frowned. She needed much more comfort than a weak pat on the shoulder!

She raised her head and stared at him.

Grant gazed past her, his dark eyes troubled.

“Hey,” Reva said. “Didn’t you hear me? I really need you to hold me right now.”

Grant took a shaky breath. “I can’t do that, Reva. I feel so terrible. I just can’t.”

“You feel terrible? How do you think I feel?” Reva demanded.

“I know. But I—I really cared about Liza,” Grant murmured. “I can’t believe this happened. I feel so guilty. So empty. . . so guilty.” His voice trailed off and he hung his head.

“Grant, it’s awful about Liza. But she’s dead.” Reva grabbed his arms and gave him a little shake. “I’m the one who needs you now!”

“Liza needed me, and I wasn’t there.” Suddenly furious, Grant glared at her. “Don’t you get it? I wasn’t there!”

“So be here for me!” Reva told him.

“I can’t! I feel too guilty.” The anger disappeared from Grant’s voice, and he lowered his gaze again. “Too guilty,” he muttered. “Too empty.”

Reva stared at him in disgust. “I don’t believe this. I came to you for sympathy, and all you can do is whine about how guilty you feel!”

“Reva, I—”

“Oh, forget it!” Reva cried. “If you’re going to fall apart, do it somewhere else.”

Spinning away from him, Reva hurried off, leaving Grant alone in the middle of the hall. What a wimp! she thought. Boo-hooing about how guilty he feels when I’m having such an awful time.

Disgusted and angry, Reva strode out to the parking lot. She’d go home and take a hot bath and try to forget this horrible day ever happened.

As she turned the Miata onto Division Street, a dark-colored car pulled away from the curb and began driving behind her.

The light at the corner flashed to yellow. Reva pressed the gas pedal so she wouldn’t get caught at the red.

A horn honked loudly. Reva glanced in the mirror again. The dark car had shot through the red light and was right behind her again.

Reva gripped the steering wheel nervously. Was she being followed?

You’re being paranoid, she told herself. Or are you? There have been two murders, both very close to you. Why shouldn’t you worry?

They might be coming after you, too!

You could be next!

Reva checked the mirror. The dark car was still on her tail. Another car was coming up on her right. She let it pull ahead. Then she twisted the wheel and swerved into the right lane. Screeched around a corner and zipped down a sidestreet.

Breathless, she glanced up at the mirror.

The dark car was nowhere in sight.

Relieved, Reva drove on. She took a roundabout way home, checking her mirror every few seconds until she finally pulled into her driveway.

Frightened and edgy, she hurried inside and up the stairs. I’ll call Daddy before I take that bath, she decided. Maybe the police have caught a suspect by now. If they haven’t, I’ll tell him about the car following me.

As Reva passed the guest room, she heard Grace’s voice cry out. “Rory, you have to stop calling me! I’m begging you, just go home and leave me alone! What? No! Listen, Rory . . .”

Reva kept walking. I absolutely have to get rid of that girl. Things are bad enough without her and her psycho boyfriend around!

In her room, Reva shrugged out of her coat and let it fall to the floor. Then she headed straight for the phone to call her father.

Please tell me the police have caught somebody! she thought. If they have, then this whole nightmare will be over!

She sat tensely on the bed and picked up the phone.

Grace’s frantic voice came over the line. “Rory, please don’t say that! Please, just stop threatening me!”

Reva frowned. But as she started to lower the phone, a second voice came on the line. “The time is eleven forty-five and twenty seconds,” it said. “The temperature is thirty degrees. Need a wake-up call? Dial 555-W-A-K-E!”

Huh? Reva scowled at the phone. What’s going on?

Why is Grace talking to the weather line?

“No, Rory!” Grace’s voice cried. “You can’t keep following me like this! It’s over, don’t you understand?”

Then came the recorded voice again. “The time is eleven forty-five and forty seconds. The temperature—”

Grace’s voice broke in, pleading desperately. “Leave me alone, Rory! Leave me alone! Stop calling me!”

As the time and temperature repeated and repeated.

Chapter 22

“REVA—GET HELP!”

As the voice announced the temperature again, Reva slowly hung up.

She stared at the telephone, her heart pounding.

Grace had been faking that call to Rory.

But why? It didn’t make any sense! Grace hated Rory. Why would she pretend to talk to him when he wasn’t there?

Reva frowned as a new thought occurred to her.

Had Rory ever called? Had Grace been faking everything? The calls, the threats, the black eye?

No, she couldn’t have, Reva told herself. Grace wouldn’t give herself a black eye!

Would she?

I don’t know Grace that well, Reva thought. We’ve been roommates for three months. But what do I really know about her, except that she’s kind of shy and mousy? And that her ex-boyfriend beat her up?

Or did he?

Reva shivered, confused and suddenly frightened.

Who is Grace? What kind of person did I invite home for Christmas?

Well, there was one way to find out, she decided. Talk to Grace’s mother.

Climbing off the bed, Reva crossed to the closet and dug out one of her duffel bags. Inside were some class notebooks and the Smith Student Directory. She pulled out the directory and returned to the bed.

Miller. . . Morgan . . . There it was. Morton. Grace Morton, and the telephone number.

Reva gently lifted the phone. The dial tone sounded in her ear. Grace had finished her crazy, one-sided conversation.

Punching in the number, Reva sat tensely as the phone rang at Grace’s house.

A woman answered on the second ring.

“Mrs. Morton?” Reva said.

“Yes?”

“This is Reva Dalby, Grace’s roommate.”

“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Morton exclaimed. “I’m glad you called. I haven’t heard from Grace, and I’ve been wondering how everything is going.”

“You haven’t heard from her?” Reva asked. So Grace lied before when she said she’d been talking to her mother.

Had she lied about everything?

Mrs. Morton laughed a little nervously. “I’m sure you’re keeping her busy, though. Are you two having a good time?”

“Not exactly,” Reva told her bluntly. “To be honest, I’m a little worried about Grace.”

“Worried?” Mrs. Morton’s voice rose. “Why? Is she sick?”

“No.” Not physically, Reva thought. “I just wanted to ask you a question about her old boyfriend. Rory is here. At least, I think he is, and he’s—”

“What?” Mrs. Morton interrupted. “What are you saying about Rory?”

“He’s here, in Shadyside,” Reva told her. “He keeps calling Grace and threatening her. He even came to my house one night.”

Silence.

“Mrs. Morton?” Reva asked.

A low moan came over the phone. “Oh, no! Not again!” Grace’s mother cried.

“What? What do you mean?” Reva demanded. “What’s going on?”

Mrs. Morton drew a shuddering breath. “Listen, Reva. Listen carefully—Rory isn’t calling Grace. He is not calling her. Do you hear me?”

“Yes!” Reva replied, gripping the phone in fear. She already guessed that, but it didn’t make her feel any better to know she was right. “Please, Mrs. Morton, tell me what’s going on!”

“Rory is dead,” Grace’s mother said, her voice trembling. “He died two years ago in a terrible accident.” She fought down a sob. “Grace killed him!”

Reva felt the blood drain from her face. “But you said it was an accident!” she cried.

“It was—but Grace killed him. Get a doctor, Reva!” Mrs. Morton told her. “My poor daughter! I thought she was over it!”

You thought wrong! Reva felt like shouting. This was worse than she’d expected. Much worse. She’d actually invited a killer home for the holidays!

“Get a doctor,” Mrs. Morton repeated. “And, Reva?”

“Yes?” Reva’s mind raced as she tried to remember if she knew the names of any shrinks.

“Get help!” Grace’s mother urged. The sobs and shakiness had disappeared. Now her voice was strong and insistent. “You have to call the police!”

The words hit Reva like a splash of icy water.

“Grace could be dangerous!” Mrs. Morton declared. “You must get the police. She could be very dangerous! Reva?”

“Yes. Okay.” Reva’s heart thundered in her ears. “I’ll get help, Mrs. Morton. And I’ll call the police right now!”

“But don’t let them hurt her!” Mrs. Morton pleaded. “She’s sick. She doesn’t know what she’s doing! I’m going to call her old psychiatrist—maybe I can convince him to come with me to Shadyside.”

“Okay!” Reva repeated, in a panic to get off the phone and get some help. “I’ll take care of it.”

Without saying good-bye, Reva hung up.

As she did, a shadowy movement caught her eye. She glanced up.

And froze.

Grace stood in the doorway, her brown eyes narrowed to slits, her face tight with fury.

Chapter 23

REVA CANNOT ESCAPE

“Grace!” Reva gasped. “Y-you scared me!” She tried to cover her fear with a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t know you were out in the hall. I didn’t hear you coming.”

Get rid of her, quick! she told herself. Get her out of the room and call the police!

“Listen, Grace, I was just about to take a bath,” she said. “After I’m done, why don’t we—”

“No!” Grace stepped into the room and slammed the door.

Reva jumped.

“There’s no time! No time for anything!” Grace declared frantically. “Rory’s coming. He’s coming to kill us both!”

“But. . .”

“Are you deaf?” Grace shouted. “Rory called! He’s on his way to kill us! And you want to take a bath?”

She didn’t overhear my conversation. So I’ll play along, Reva thought. Humor her. “He can’t get in, Grace,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Remember? The guard and the dogs will keep him out.”

“You’re wrong!” Grace insisted. She moved farther into the room.

Closer to the bed.

Reva’s heart thundered. Her mouth went dry.

Grace took another step. “Nothing will keep Rory out, Reva! Nothing! He’ll kill the guard, you know. He’ll kill the dogs, too!”

“No, he won’t!” Reva cried. “Trust me, Grace. He can’t get past them!”

Grace raked a hand through her hair and ground her teeth. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” she shouted, moving another step closer to the bed. “You don’t have a clue!”

“Yes, I do! I know Rory is dead!” Reva blurted out the words without thinking.

Grace stopped, one hand still clutching her brown hair.

“I just finished talking to your mother,” Reva told her. “She explained about Rory. About the . . . accident. I know he can’t hurt anybody—because he’s dead.”

Grace’s arm dropped to her side. She frowned and shook her head, a confused expression on her face.

“You’re safe, Grace,” Reva continued quietly. “Really. Your mom is going to call your doctor. He’ll come and explain everything to you. You’re safe. You don’t have to be scared.”

“I don’t. I don’t have to be scared,” Grace repeated.

“That’s right,” Reva agreed. Now turn around and go away, Grace, she urged silently. Far away.

“I don’t have to be scared,” Grace chanted. Then she took another step, her eyes glittering wetly. “But you do, Reva!” she shouted. “You do!”

“No—”

“Rory is through with me,” Grace shrieked. “But he’s still coming. I know he is. He’s coming to kill you, Reva!”

Okay, enough fooling around and trying to play shrink, Reva decided. Time to call the police. She picked up the telephone. “I’m going to get help, Grace.”

“No!” Grace dove for the telephone.

Reva hung onto it and jumped to her feet.

With a cry, Grace grabbed hold of the phone cord and yanked it out of the wall.

Reva screamed.

Grace tore the phone from Reva’s hands and heaved it across the room. It bounced off the wall and crashed onto the dresser, shattering a bottle of perfume.

“No help for you!” Grace shouted. “Rory is going to kill you. He’s going to kill you now—like he killed Traci and Liza!”

Reva’s heart seemed to skip.

Traci and Liza? Grace killed them?

And now she’s going to kill me!

Reva began to edge her way along the side of the bed. If she could make it to the end, she might be able to slip past Grace and run for the door.

Had Grace locked them in? She didn’t know, but she had to try.

Reva took another cautious step.

Grace didn’t seem to notice. Her head was lowered as she fumbled for something in the pocket of her jeans.

Reva edged sideways again.

Grace’s head snapped up. Her hand came out of her pocket, clutching something.

Reva froze, terrified.

Grace held a long, green scarf in her hands.

“Rory is going to kill you, Reva.” Grace twisted the ends of the scarf around her palms and snapped it in the air. “He’s going to kill you.”

Reva broke for the door.

Grace leaped in front of her, cutting her off.

With a cry, Reva whirled around and started to race for the bathroom. She was only two steps away when she felt the soft, silky scarf wrap around her neck.

“No!” she gasped. She brought her hands up to her throat, hoping to get her fingers underneath the scarf.

Too late.

Panting in fury, Grace tightened her grip on the scarf and yanked, hard.

Reva gagged. She dragged air in through her nose, but not enough. Not nearly enough!

The scarf tightened again.

Reva grabbed hold of Grace’s wrists and tugged.

But Grace didn’t budge. She held on, pulling the scarf tighter.

The silky scarf felt like a wire slicing into Reva’s neck. Slicing deep into her throat.

Tighter.

Tighter. . .

Chapter 24

“KILL HER, RORY!”

Reva tried to scream, but all that came out was a hacking croak. She couldn’t get enough air in to try again.

She’s killing me!

Reva grabbed hold of Grace’s wrists and tugged. She dug her nails into the flesh. Scratched at the skin, trying to loosen the grip of those hands.

She couldn’t do it!

The scarf tightened. Tightened. A burning wire, cutting Reva. Cutting her.

Reva began to choke.

She felt her eyes bulge. Black spots danced in front of them. A rushing sound filled her ears.

I can’t breathe! Can’t get any air at all!

She’s killing me! I’m going to die, just like Traci and Liza!

Desperate to get free, Reva kicked backward, slamming her heel into Grace’s shin.

Grace hissed in pain, but she didn’t let go of the scarf.

Reva kicked again and missed. She twisted her whole body from side to side. Twisted and turned, staggering back and forth.

Grace held on, staggering with her.

Pulling the scarf.

Killing Reva.

As they lunged across the room together, Reva suddenly heard the door burst open, and then a wild, high-pitched cry.

“Hiaee-yahh!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blurry figure standing in the doorway.

Michael!

Her brother raised his arm over his head and yelled again. “The Evil Avenger is here!” he bellowed. Then he laughed, his blue eyes gleaming with excitement.

Oh, no! He thinks it’s a game, Reva realized.

Couldn’t he see? Couldn’t he tell she was being strangled?

This is no game, Michael! she wanted to cry. Get out of here! Go get help!

But she couldn’t yell. She felt so weak . . . so far away.

Michael gave another fierce cry and rushed into the room. He raised his arm higher, and Reva saw a flash of metal.

The fake knife.

It won’t work! Reva thought desperately. Grace won’t even feel it!

Michael plunged the knife into Grace’s side. “The Evil Avenger strikes again!” He giggled, then stuck the collapsible knife into Grace’s shoulder.

Without letting go of the scarf, Grace tried to shove Michael away with her elbow.

The movement gave Reva the chance she needed. She grabbed Grace’s arm with both hands and jerked it down.

The hand loosened its grip.

Reva lunged sideways, throwing Grace off-balance. Coughing and gasping, Reva broke free, then spun around and shoved Grace away from her as hard as she could.

Grace stumbled backward, her arms pin-wheeling as she tried to keep from going down. But she couldn’t stop herself.

Reva heard a sickening crack as Grace’s head slammed into a corner of the desk.

Grace fell to the floor with a thud. She didn’t move.

A trickle of blood ran down the side of her head.

Michael stopped laughing. His mouth dropped open in a startled squeak.

Reva’s neck throbbed and her throat felt crushed. The scarf still clung to her neck. She fumbled with it, coughing painfully.

“Reva?” Michael’s voice was tiny and frightened.

From the floor, Grace gave a low moan.

“Michael!” Reva rasped, finally getting the scarf all the way off. “Go get the security guard!”

“Okay,” Michael answered. Grace moaned again. Michael eyed her warily. “Is she going to be okay?”

Reva tried to clear her throat. “Don’t worry. Just go find the security guard and tell him to come up here. Hurry, Michael!”

Michael jammed the knife into his pocket and raced from the room.

Reva rubbed her throat and swallowed several times. She tried to kill me! she thought, staring at Grace. She almost did!

Moaning again, Grace’s eyes fluttered open. She turned onto her side, then slowly eased herself into a sitting position.

Reva tensed up. Would Grace come after her again?

But Grace didn’t try to climb to her feet. She sat on the rug, exhausted and dazed. As she glanced groggily around the room, her gaze fell on Reva.

Reva stared back, horrified. “Why?” she whispered hoarsely. “Why did you kill Traci and Liza?”

“To show you.” Grace rubbed her head, then stared at the blood on her fingers. “To show you that you can’t have everything you want. You think you can take everything. That everything is yours.”

Reva shook her head.

“Oh, yes, you do!” Grace declared bitterly. “You think everything is yours. So I wanted to kill you!” She wiped her bloody fingers on the carpet. “But first I wanted to frighten you. To make you suffer. To show you what real horror is like!”

“But, Grace—”

“Shut up, Reva!” Grace snapped. “You treat everyone like dirt. Everyone! Me. The maid. Your cousin. But especially the guys. You save the worst for the guys.”

Reva couldn’t believe this! What was Grace talking about?

“I had a wonderful guy once,” Grace continued in a soft, dreamy voice. Her lips twisted in a weird smile. “I had Rory.”

Yeah, and you killed him, Reva thought.

“He was so great, Reva. I was wild about him.” Grace stared at the bloody carpet for a moment. Then she squeezed her eyes shut. “But we had a fight while we were driving. We were both so angry, shouting at each other. I grabbed the wheel and—and—” Her voice broke and she began to sob.

It was an accident, as her mother said, Reva realized. A horrible accident.

And the guilt drove Grace crazy.

Grace flung her head back and stared at Reva, tears streaming down her face. “I wanted you to see what that kind of loss feels like!” she cried.

“But—but why Traci and Liza?” Reva asked. “I hardly knew Liza. And I didn’t even like Traci. Why did you think killing them would hurt me?”

“Because of the fashion show!” Grace wiped at her tears and smiled that weird smile again. “It was the first thing I ever saw you really want. You wanted it so much, you stole all the credit from your own cousin. Because it was so important. It was the first thing that ever meant something to you. So I decided to take it away from you. Bit by bit, person by person!”

Reva felt a sharp stab of disappointment. Grace is right, she realized. The show meant more to me than anything.

“You were scared, weren’t you, Reva?” Grace asked, almost pleadingly. “You did suffer!”

Reva thought of all the work she’d done to get the show ready. Designing the set. Choosing the models and the music. She remembered the feeling of excitement as it all started to come together.

And then she pictured the two strangled models. The customers racing from the showroom, screaming in panic. The fashion show—her fashion show—ruined.

And she had been scared, especially after Liza was killed. She thought somebody might kill her.

Well, somebody almost did, she thought, staring at her roommate.

“I saved you for last,” Grace told her. “I was going to let you watch everything fall apart. And then I was going to kill you.” Grace’s eyes filled with tears again and she hung her head. “But I failed. I failed. But Rory will finish the job for me.”

Oh, no, she’s back to Rory again. Watching Grace cry, Reva actually felt sorry for the girl. She’d gone totally off the deep end.

“Rory will kill you for me.” Still sobbing, Grace raised her head and gazed at the door. “There he is now!” she cried, scrambling to her feet. “Rory—I knew you’d come! Kill her! Kill Reva!”

It’s her imagination! Reva thought. Rory’s dead!

Isn’t he?

A movement caught her eye. Someone stood in the doorway.

“Kill her, Rory!” Grace shouted.

Reva spun around in horror.

Chapter 25

“YOU MURDERED REVA!”

“Kill her!” Grace screamed, pointing at Reva. “Do it, Rory. Do it now!”

But Rory wasn’t in the doorway.

The security guard stood there, looking slightly confused. Michael stayed in the hall and peeked wide-eyed around the doorframe.

“Kill Reva!” Grace shrieked. “Please, Rory! Please kill her for me!” She took a stumbling step toward the guard.

The guard’s eyes hardened. His hand went to his gun.

“No!” Reva shouted at him. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about!”

“Yes, I do! I want you to kill her. Please, Rory, why won’t you do it?” Grace covered her face with her hands. “Why won’t you help me?” she sobbed.

Keeping his hand on the gun, the guard glanced at Reva.

Reva took a shaky breath. “You’ll have to take her to the police,” she told the guard. “She killed two people. But take it easy with her. She’s sick. She needs help. I’ll call her mother.”

The guard nodded and took hold of Grace’s arm. She glanced up at him. “You’re going to help me, aren’t you, Rory?”

“Sure. Come on.” Gently, the guard tugged on Grace’s arm and led her out of the room.

“Wow,” Michael breathed. “That was weird, huh?”

“Very weird,” Reva agreed. “But it’s over, Michael. And, Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming in when you did,” she told him. “You saved my life.”

“No kidding?” Michael’s eyes lit up. He whipped out the fake knife. “The Evil Avenger to the rescue!” he shouted, and raced down the hallway.

Reva smiled. The horror is finally over. I’m not in danger anymore. Grace will be taken care of.

Slowly, she slumped to the bed, looked up Grace’s number again in the student directory, and called her mother. She explained what had happened to a horrified Mrs. Morton.

“Those poor girls,” Mrs. Morton sobbed. “I’m so glad you’re all right, Reva. I’m leaving for Shadyside right now—Grace’s doctor is coming tomorrow. Maybe my poor Grace will really be cured one day.”

Maybe, Reva thought. But I wouldn’t count on it.

Reva said good-bye and hung up. Feeling exhausted, she started to lie back on the bed. Then she remembered her father. She had to tell him. Quickly, she punched in his office number at Dalby’s.

He answered on the first ring.

“Daddy? I—I have to tell you what happened,” Reva announced. Then she blurted out the whole horrible story about Grace.

“And you’re sure you’re all right?” Mr. Dalby asked anxiously when she finished.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “My throat’s a little sore and I’m tired. But I’m really okay, Daddy. I feel so bad about Traci and Liza, of course. And Grace, too. I mean, she’s sick. But it’s all over, Daddy, isn’t that great?”

“It’s wonderful,” he agreed.

“And now I can go ahead with the fashion show,” Reva told him.

“Huh?” Mr. Dalby cried. “After all that’s happened, isn’t that the last thing you want to do?”

“Definitely not,” Reva replied. “Grace was right about one thing. The show was really important to me. And it’s even more important now.”

“But—”

“Please, Daddy, let me go ahead with it!” Reva begged. “I need something to help me forget all the horrible things that have happened. And everything is ready—the scarves and the set and the music. We could have a show tonight!”

“Tonight? What about the models?” her father asked. “Didn’t you plan on having three of them?”

Reva thought fast. “Yes. But couldn’t you get two of the store models to replace Traci and Liza?” Forget what color hair they have, she thought. Just as long as they don’t trip over their own feet, I’ll take them. “Daddy?”

“Well. . .” Mr. Dalby hesitated, but only for a few seconds. “I suppose you’re right, honey. Doing the show will take your mind off things.”

“And it will be good for business, too,” Reva reminded him.

Mr. Dalby grunted. “All right. I’ll line up a model for you. There’s not enough notice to do it tonight. The store is open until ten tomorrow. So how about tomorrow at seven for the show?”

“Perfect! Thank you, Daddy!” Reva cried. “I’ll see you later!”

Reva said good-bye, then quickly got Ellie’s phone number from Information and punched it in. When Ellie picked up, Reva quickly explained the situation. “The show is at seven tomorrow night. I’ll be there at six. But could you go a little earlier and make sure everything’s ready?”

“Sure,” Ellie replied. “No problem. I’ll let Maria know, too.”

“Great. I’ll meet you in the showroom at seven.” Reva hung up and clicked her nails on the bedside table. What next?

Pam, she thought, and snatched up the phone. “Pam!” she cried, when her cousin answered. “You are not going to believe what happened!” Once again, she explained about Grace and the murders.

“That’s awful!” Pam exclaimed. “I feel so terrible about Liza and Traci. But somehow, I can’t help feeling bad for Grace, too. That poor girl.”

“Hey, what about me?” Reva asked. “I almost got strangled, remember? Anyway, forget all that. I have some fantastic news—Daddy’s letting me go ahead with the fashion show.”

“Really?” Pam cried. “After all the horrible stuff that happened?”

“It’s good business.” Reva rolled her eyes. Of course, Pam didn’t have a clue about business. She should be grateful Reva had taken over the scarf show. “People are still going to shop, you know. Especially at Christmas.”

“Oh. I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Reva agreed. “The show’s tomorrow night, at seven. You and Willow should get down to the store right away and get to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Hanging up, Reva hurried into her private bathroom to take a long, soothing bath.

The horror is all over, she thought, smiling to herself.

And I’m right back where I belong.

On top.

• • •

Pam glanced at her watch. Six o’clock. She sighed and bent over the long green scarf she was working on.

She and Willow had been at Dalby’s all day, making more scarves. Usually Pam enjoyed it, even in the small, airless room Reva gave them. She loved working with the material, seeing her very own designs come alive.

Why wasn’t she enjoying it now?

On the other side of the table, Willow tossed down a cherry-red scarf and clicked her tongue in disgust. “That’s the third time I messed up the stitching! I’m a total klutz today. I don’t feel like working at all.”

“Me, either,” Pam told her. “I keep thinking about Traci and Liza. I mean, Grace strangled them with our scarves. I know it’s not our fault. But it’s all so sick. I just can’t seem to get excited about the show.”

“Yeah,” Willow agreed, fingering her gold nose hoop. “Two people are dead. It’s just so awful.”

Pam nodded. “I should be glad about the show, I suppose. Reva says it’s good business.”

“Reva would,” Willow declared with a snort. Then she shrugged. “I guess I shouldn’t complain. Somebody has to think about business. And maybe we’ll make some money, at least.”

“Right.” Pam inspected the green scarf. “Speaking of Reva, I’m going to check with her and see if she wants to use this scarf tonight or save it for the next show. She should be here by now.”

Picking up the scarf, Pam left Willow and went down the hall to the showroom.

The big room was dim and shadowy. The only light came from a weak bulb somewhere behind the revolving doors.

Pam stepped in and waited for her eyes to adjust.

What was that noise?

It sounded like breathing. But not normal breathing. Gasping, almost.

Was someone there?

Pam moved cautiously down the center aisle, peering through the darkness.

The raspy breathing continued.

Pam took a few more steps. Then she stopped suddenly.

Reva!

Pam’s cousin lay in front of the revolving doors, sprawled on her stomach, her red hair shining in the weak light.

Someone knelt next to her, bending over her. A guy, Pam saw. She heard Reva gasp again, a choking, guttural sound that sent a chill down Pam’s spine.

The guy stayed on his knees, bending over Reva.

Pulling at something.

At what?

Hurrying forward, Pam saw a flash of red around Reva’s neck.

And more red in the guy’s hands.

A scarf!

A red scarf!

He’s killing her! Pulling the scarf tighter and tighter!

Strangling her!

With a shriek, Pam flew onto the stage. She threw herself at the guy, knocking him off-balance. He fell with a thud. But Pam barely glanced at him. Terrified, she bent over her cousin.

Reva lay still.

The horrible choking sounds had stopped completely.

“She’s dead! You murdered her!” Pam cried, dropping to her knees beside Reva’s still body. “You murdered Reva!”

Chapter 26

A BAD MISTAKE

“She’s dead, she’s dead!” Pam shrieked. “You killed her! You killed Reva!”

Tears blurred her eyes. Sobbing, she reached out to touch Reva’s shoulder.

With a wild cry, the guy knocked Pam’s hand away. Then he grabbed her shoulders and hauled her roughly to her feet, shoving her away from her cousin’s body.

“Why?” Pam cried, staggering backward. “Why?”

“You shouldn’t have come in here!” he shouted. “You shouldn’t have seen!” His eyes burned with fury. “Now I have to kill you, too!”

Pam backed away, her heart pounding. Terrified, she twisted her green scarf around her sweaty hands. “Why did you kill Reva?” she repeated in a shaky whisper.

“Because . . .” The guy clenched his fists and glared down at the still figure on the stage floor. “Because she . . .”

Pam’s eyes darted around the dimly lit showroom. She had to get out of here and get help. “Because she what?” she asked, taking another step backward.

The guy stared at her.

Pam froze.

He turned back to Reva. “Because . . .” He stopped again.

Pam saw his expression change. The anger faded, and a look of total horror swept over his face.

What’s going on? she wondered.

“Oh, nooo!” Uttering a long wail, the guy sank to his knees beside Reva’s body. He took hold of her shoulder and turned her onto her back.

As Reva’s red hair fell away from her face, Pam gasped in shock.

It’s not Reva! she realized.

It’s Ellie!

As Pam stared down at the lifeless form of Reva’s look-alike model, the guy uttered another horrified wail.

“Nooo! What have I done? What have I done?” he cried. “I killed the wrong one!”

• • •

Running a little late, Reva hurried down the hall toward the side door of the showroom. She was eager to check the place out and make sure Ellie had everything ready.

As she entered the door, she stopped, surprised and annoyed.

Why was the room so dark? Did Ellie forget to come early and get everything set up?

With a scowl, Reva edged along the wall, searching for the big switch that turned on the stage lights. As her fingers touched it, she heard a sound from the stage.

A horrible moaning sound.

Reva froze.

The sound came again, full of anger and panic. “The wrong one!” a voice choked out. “The wrong one!”

Slowly, Reva dropped her hand. Moving quietly, she edged her way farther along the wall.

When she was able to see onto the stage, Reva stopped again, horrified.

Ellie lay sprawled on her back near the revolving doors, a long, cherry-red scarf wrapped tightly around her neck.

Pam stood nearby. Nervously twisting a green scarf around her hands as if it were a dish towel, Pam stared at the guy kneeling next to Ellie.

Grant Nichols.

As Reva watched, Grant ran a hand through his curly hair. “It shouldn’t be her!” he muttered. “It shouldn’t be!”

“What are you talking about?” Pam whispered. “You killed Ellie, but you meant to kill Reva?”

A chill ran up Reva’s spine. That could be me! she thought, staring at Ellie. But why?

Why would Grant want to kill me?

“Why?” Pam asked, echoing Reva’s thought.

Grant shuddered and sighed. “I—I felt so guilty . . . about Liza.”

“What do you mean?” Pam cried. “You mean you killed Liza? But. . .”

“No, I didn’t kill her. Reva did!” Grant snapped.

Huh? Reva couldn’t believe this.

“Reva did,” Grant repeated. “Oh, I know she didn’t actually strangle her. But she might as well have! It was Reva’s fault that Liza died. All Reva’s fault!”

No! Reva thought. He’s wrong! He’s crazy!

“I knew it was Reva’s fault,” Grant continued, sounding hopeless. “And where was I? I couldn’t help Liza—because I was out with Reva. Sneaking out with Reva, behind Liza’s back!”

“But that doesn’t make it Reva’s fault,” Pam protested.

“It does,” Grant cried furiously. “I really cared about Liza—and Reva knew it. I told Reva. But Reva made me think she cared about me! That she needed me.”

Grant shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair again.

“But it was a trick,” he groaned. “Reva didn’t care. She didn’t need me. Liza did, and I wasn’t there!”

Reva closed her eyes for a second, thinking about Grant’s words.

Were they true?

Grace had accused her of using people, especially the guys. Using them and then throwing them away when she didn’t need them anymore.

Now Grant was saying practically the same thing. Saying she tricked him into sneaking out on Liza by pretending to need him.

But I didn’t force him to sneak around with me! Reva thought. And I did need him, didn’t I?

Not really, Reva had to admit to herself. I just wanted somebody around during the holidays. I didn’t care about him the way he cared about Liza.

“After Liza died, I—I just snapped, I guess.” Grant’s voice from the stage broke into Reva’s thoughts. “I had to pay Reva back. That’s all I could think about—paying Reva back. And I decided that she had to die.”

With a shudder, Reva glanced down at Ellie.

“I knew exactly how to do it, too,” Grant went on. “Strangle Reva just the way Liza and Traci were strangled. Then whoever killed them would be blamed for Reva’s murder, too. And I’d get away with it.”

Pam shook her head silently, a look of horror in her eyes.

Grant gazed up at her. “But then you came in and . . .” He turned his head and stared at Ellie again. “It isn’t Reva. I killed the wrong one. It isn’t Reva.”

No kidding, Reva thought. She forgot about feeling guilty and started feeling angry. Maybe Grant had snapped. But no way would he get away with murder!

Furious, Reva strode toward the revolving doors, her shoes clicking loudly on the stage floor.

Pam gasped.

Grant raised his head. When he saw Reva, his eyes narrowed. “You!” he muttered.

“Yes, it’s me. And I heard everything, Grant,” Reva told him icily. “But guess what? Your plan was no good from the start. The police already have Traci’s and Liza’s murderer.”

“No!” Grant shook his head. “You’re wrong, Reva. They don’t have Liza’s killer. Or Traci’s either.”

“Sorry, but they do,” Reva declared. “She’s at the police station, right now. And you’ll be joining her, Grant. You’ll be arrested for Ellie’s murder.”

“No! You’re the real killer, Reva!”

Reva shook her head. “Come on, Pam. Let’s get out of here and call the police.”

“No!” Grant shrieked again, his face turning dark red with fury. “You’re the killer, Reva! It’s all your fault those girls are dead! All your fault!”

“Stop it!” Pam cried, nervously twisting the scarf around and around. “Stop saying that!”

Grant ignored her. He stared at Reva, his eyes flaming with hatred.

Reva froze for a second.

“Your fault,” Grant repeated. “And now—you have to die, too!”

Pam screamed.

Before Reva could react, Grant leaped to his feet. “You have to die!” he bellowed furiously as he dove across the stage. “You have to die, Reva!”

Chapter 27

A CHRISTMAS PRESENT

Pam screamed again.

Reva whirled around to run.

Her foot twisted, and she lurched sideways.

“You have to die!” Grant shouted.

She heard his hoarse breathing.

Then she felt his breath on her neck.

Felt his fingers brush her back.

He’ll get me! her mind shrieked as she tried to gain her balance. He’ll kill me!

As Grant’s hand grabbed her shoulder, Reva screamed.

And then Grant seemed to stumble. His hand slid away, and Reva heard a loud thump.

“Reva!” Pam shouted. “Help me—quick!”

Her heart racing, Reva spun back around.

Grant lay facedown on the stage floor. Caught under his legs was a long green scarf. Pam had wrapped it around his ankles and tripped him.

Gasping in fear, Pam grabbed the ends of the scarf and hurried to tighten them around his ankles.

Grant lifted his head from the floor and shook it. He seemed slightly dazed from the fall. But then he got his arms underneath him and started to heave himself up.

With a scream, Pam shoved him down. “Help me, Reva!” she shouted again, struggling to wrap the scarf tighter as Grant kicked and struggled. “I need to tie his ankles! Help me or he’ll get away!”

Grant raised himself on one arm and swung back viciously with the other. His fist almost collided with Pam’s jaw.

Reva stepped over to him and kicked Grant’s arm out from under him. He hit the floor hard. Before he could move again, Reva planted her foot on the back of his neck and pushed down.

“I wouldn’t try to get up, Grant,” she told him. She pressed down harder with her black platform shoe. “If you do, I’ll put all my weight on your neck. That’s a promise.”

Reva pushed again, harder.

Grant stayed down, breathing hard.

Pam quickly finished wrapping the scarf and tying it into a tight knot. Then she raced to the side door and shouted for the store guards.

As she hurried back to Reva, she suddenly stopped. “Reva, look! Ellie is moving!”

Reva’s gaze snapped to Ellie. The red-haired model’s head turned slowly back and forth, and she let out a soft groan.

Pam dropped down next to her. “I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed, gently unwrapping the red scarf from Ellie’s neck. “I thought for sure she was dead!”

“She probably would be if you hadn’t come in here,” Reva told her. “You saved her life.” She paused. “Mine, too. Thanks, Pam.”

Before Pam could respond, two uniformed store guards rushed in. Reva took her foot off Grant’s neck and breathed a sigh of relief.

The horror was finally over.

• • •

“Haiee-yahh!”

Michael chopped the air with his hands. He spun around and planted a kick on the back of the living room couch.

The couch shuddered and slid forward about an inch. With another cry, Michael did his ninja routine again, then ran over to the Christmas tree and began to check out all the packages underneath it.

Reva poured two mugs of hot cider and handed them to Pam and Willow, who sat near the fireplace. As she picked up her own mug, she turned on the radio.

“Silent Night” began to play softly.

Reva started to turn the radio off. Then she changed her mind. Everything is all right now, she reminded herself. You can’t let a Christmas song give you nightmares anymore.

“I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve already,” Pam declared. “With everything that’s happened, I almost forgot about Christmas.”

Willow laughed. “Not me. We get two days off from work. I’d never forget something like that!”

Reva sat down in one of the wing chairs and sipped some cider. “I still don’t see why you don’t quit that horrible job.”

“Simple.” Laughing again, Willow tossed her head and her fake-diamond nose stud glittered in the firelight. “We need the money.”

“Willow is right. With the scarf show canceled, we both have to work.” Pam grinned. “But once our design company gets off the ground, we’ll kiss the Acme Insurance Company good-bye!”

Reva smiled back. The scarf show was history. But her father had decided to stock some of Pam’s and Willow’s other designs year-round.

Vests, more scarves, even a few dresses would be in the Dalby department stores as fast as Pam and Willow could get them ready.

And they’d be marketed under the PAM-WILLOW label.

Reva felt glad for them. But even though she didn’t have anything to do with the company, she still thought Reva Wear was a much catchier name. But forced herself to keep her mouth shut about it.

It was Christmas Eve, after all.

“Hey, Reva!” Michael called out, holding up a large package wrapped in red paper. “This one is for me!”

“Don’t shake it,” Reva warned him. “And don’t try to peek through the wrapping paper, either. You can open it tomorrow.”

Michael slowly set the package down, looking disappointed. Then he jumped up and raced toward the couch, aiming his foot for another ninja kick.

“Haiee-yahh!”

The couch slid forward another half inch.

“Isn’t it going to scratch the floor?” Pam asked. “Maybe he should stop.”

“Oh, let him do it,” Reva told her. “Sometimes it’s nice to have a ninja around.”

“Right,” Willow agreed. “Too bad he wasn’t there when Grant attacked Ellie. And tried to kill you, Reva.”

“I didn’t need a ninja that night. I had Pam,” Reva replied, turning to her cousin. “Thanks again, Pam. You saved my life.”

Pam fiddled with her ponytail, looking embarrassed. “Actually, I didn’t save your life,” she said. “The green scarf did.”

“I guess you’re right.” Reva laughed. “Grant didn’t stand a chance with it tied around his ankles. It was really well-made.” She sipped some cider and leaned back in her chair. “You know, I’m thinking of buying one for myself. Any idea where I can get it?”

“You don’t have to buy one.” Pam went to the Christmas tree and picked up a box wrapped in shiny green foil. She held out the box to Reva and grinned. “Guess what I’m giving you for Christmas?”

About the Author

“Where do you get your ideas?”

That’s the question that R. L. Stine is asked most often. “I don’t know where my ideas come from,” he says. “But I do know that I have a lot more scary stories in my mind that I can’t wait to write.”

So far, he has written over a hundred mysteries and thrillers for young people, all of them bestsellers.

Bob grew up in Columbus, Ohio. Today he lives in an apartment near Central Park in New York City with his wife, Jane, and son, Matt.

Twice a year—twice the terror!

PARTY SUMMER

SILENT NIGHT

GOODNIGHT KISS

BROKEN HEARTS

SILENT NIGHT 2

THE DEAD LIFEGUARD

CHEERLEADERS:
THE NEW EVIL

BAD MOONLIGHT

THE NEW YEAR’S PARTY

GOODNIGHT KISS 2

SILENT NIGHT 3

Look for a new Fear Street®
Super Chiller in mid-May 1997.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Simon Pulse, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc.
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www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright © 1996 by Parachute Press, Inc.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

ISBN: 0-671-52970-6
ISBN-13: 978-1-4424-8782-6 (eBook)

First Simon Pulse printing December 1996

FEAR STREET is a registered trademark of Parachute Press, Inc.

SIMON PULSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.

Cover art by Bill Schmidt

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