A few minutes later a blue car pulled up to the Meredith house. He laid the book aside and peered at the person climbing out, but the hood of a dark green poncho prevented him from seeing a face. The person walked up to the cop in the cruiser, said a few words, and the cop nodded, like it was okay for the person to go to the door. At least it wasn't the sheriff returning home, Jimmy thought. That would have sent him scurrying. And it wasn't Natalie. Wrong car. Must be a friend of Mrs. Collins.
"Paige, who's there?" Mrs. Collins called as she passed from the dining room into the living room. Paige couldn't answer. The figure stood in the shadow beside the stairs, a hand pressed firmly over Paige's mouth as a sinewy arm held her body like a vise. "If it's that Jenkins boy, your father will skin you alive! You know you're not allowed-"
Mrs. Collins crossed the threshold into the entrance hall. The figure stepped forward. Mrs. Collins's eyes flew wide before a brass plant holder slammed against the side of her head. She stood still for a moment, her mouth a tiny, surprised "O" as she crashed forward onto her face.
"Such an annoying woman. At least she'll shut up for a while. Maybe for good. And now for you."
Paige's rapid heartbeat seemed to shake her entire body. This was it. This was what she'd feared since the night the hooded figure had looked right into her eyes at the Saunders house. Now out would come a knife and slash! She'd been worried about her mother being alone. Maybe she wouldn't be alone much longer.
The figure took a step away from the railing, dragging Paige along. Suddenly Paige heard a yowl and a black missile flew off the newel post onto her captor. A scream of rage filled the entrance hall. The arm released Paige, but she couldn't move when she saw Ripley hurled against a wall. "Ripley!" she shrieked. The cat lay motionless as the arm snaked around her again. "You killed him!"
"I didn't mean to." Genuine regret. "He might be alive, but if he is, one of our local vets will have to fix him up." A low, creepy laugh. "I'm afraid Natalie St. John won't be around, Paige, because you're going to help me lure her to her death."
"Ripley!"
Jimmy heard the shriek and jumped up. What was going on? What had happened to the cat?
He wanted to go to the door, but of course he couldn't. Maybe it wasn't any big deal. Maybe Mrs. Collins had just stepped on his tail or swatted at him or something and Paige got all bent out of shape-
But he'd heard the terror in her voice.
Jimmy crept from the protection of the oak tree and slunk along the side of the house. He couldn't go up on the porch and look in the big picture window, but if he remembered from the two times he'd been inside the house, there was a little window that leaked light into the entrance hall-
A little window that was about two feet above his head. "Damn it all," he swore in his best imitation of his father. He looked around. Where was the wooden milk carton always so conveniently present in the movies? While he was pondering this question, he heard the front door open. He shrank against the house, watching while the person in a poncho led Paige out to the police cruiser. The window came down. The poncho person's hand shot out, and the cop's head sagged. Then the person dragged Paige away from the cruiser and made her get into the blue car.
Jimmy's jaw sagged as the car pulled away. For a moment he stood still, stunned. Then he raced to the front of the house, up the porch steps, and in the door. Mrs. Collins lay in the hall, blood pouring from her head. Ripley was a crumpled black lump by the wall. Jimmy dashed for the phone.
"I gotta talk to the sheriff," he yelped thirty seconds later. "It's an emergency, I'm tellin' you. Somebody took his daughter out of her house and drove away with her." He paused. "This isn't a joke. I'm tellin' the truth, I swear. It was a blue car and the license plate started with 3R." His voice rose and shook in agitation. "Listen, you've gotta tell Sheriff Meredith, because this person had a gun to Paige's head!"
True to her word, Natalie had stayed home since finding Jeff Lindstrom, only taking Blaine out once when reporters disappeared to file stories. Andrew had called at five o'clock. "There was a three-car pileup. I have two more surgeries."
"Are you the only surgeon in Port Ariel?" Natalie had asked only half playfully. Hundreds of times in her life he'd called to say he wouldn't be home for hours.
"At the moment I feel like I'm the only surgeon within a thousand miles. Keep the doors locked, honey. I have to go."
By nine-thirty she had reread a third of Wuthering Heights, Paige having started her on a Bronte kick, washed and dried a load of laundry, and was in the middle of her favorite Saturday night program when the phone rang. She clicked the mute button on the television and listened to the answering machine.
"Natalie? Are you there? It's Paige." The young voice vibrated with fear. "Natalie, if you're there, please answer."
Natalie lifted the receiver, cutting off the machine. "Paige, what's wrong?"
"I… I need you to come get me."
"Come get you? Where? What's wrong?"
A tiny sob. "I'm real scared. I think maybe Mrs. Collins is dead." A bigger sob. "And Ripley, too."
"Dead! Paige, are you home?"
"N-no. I'm at this spooky place. It's old and empty and… what?" Natalie heard another voice. "It's called The Blue Lady."
"The Blue Lady! What on earth are you doing there?"
"Please come. You have to come and you can't call the police and you have to come alone or… or…"
"Or I'll kill her," a ragged voice said. Then the line went dead.
Natalie sat frozen for an instant. This was not real. This was some silly prank Jimmy had dreamed up.
But Jimmy wasn't cruel. Impetuous and reckless, but not cruel. He wanted to be like Nick when he grew up. He would never pull such a malicious prank.
She glanced at the notepad on the table beside the phone where she'd jotted down Nick's phone number. She dialed. The phone rang ten times. "I think Mrs. Collins is dead," she could hear Paige saying. At nine-thirty either Mrs. Collins or Nick would be home with Paige, but no one answered.
She dialed 911, asked that an ambulance be dispatched to Meredith's address, gave her name, then hung up when asked to repeat the information. She didn't have time to waste. Next she called police headquarters. A pleasant-voiced woman answered. No, the sheriff wasn't in. No, Ted Hysell wasn't in. Would she like to speak with another deputy?
Natalie hesitated. Going to The Blue Lady alone was dangerous, but alerting a deputy who might arrive with the siren screaming could mean death for Paige. She calmly said she wasn't in need of help and hung up, wondering whom she could call instead. Lily? No. Much as she hated to admit it, she had doubts about Lily. Her father? He was in surgery. Harvey Coombs? Ridiculous.
Tearing through her purse looking for her car keys, she cursed the fact that there was no one to help her. Blaine followed her to the door. "I can't even take you this time," Natalie said. "A big dog might spook whoever has Paige."
But what would she do? she asked herself as she wheeled desperately out of the driveway and headed the short distance to The Blue Lady. She had no idea whom she was up against. And the gun! She'd been so flustered, she hadn't even retrieved her gun from the suitcase. She almost turned and went back for it, but there wasn't time. Besides, what if the killer searched her as soon as she entered The Blue Lady?
Finding the gun could spark a violent reaction, and Paige's life was at stake. No, she'd face this without police, without a weapon. She had no choice.
Darkness shrouded The Blue Lady dance pavilion. Over the years, owners of the hotel had hauled in truckloads of sand to create a beach along the lakefront. No one had bothered since the fire in the seventies, though, and now the narrow, eroding strip of sand looked desolate bathed in weak moonlight and cool drizzle. It was almost impossible to imagine this dismal place as a scene of fun and glamour. Natalie had the sudden, chilling impression it had sat brooding here all these years, waiting for something awful to happen inside its rotting walls.