Wicked (14 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

If he hadn't been so scared, Dean would have felt really good. When he'd volunteered to be the next victim in Angela's book, Beth had been very nervous. That meant she cared about him. And Dean had already realized just how much he cared about Beth.

Beth was bright, and pretty, and she understood his music. Dean smiled as he typed another sentence on his computer. He was attempting to write lyrics for one of his songs. That was the hardest part for Dean. The music was easy. His mind was continually filled with melodies. But his lyrics had always been weak.

Beth would help when she read through what he'd written. Dean smiled again as he imagined her pretty brown hair falling over her forehead as they worked at the table. She'd brush it back and then he'd catch a glimpse of her shy smile. Such a gentle smile, filled with goodness. Beth was the girl he'd always dreamed of, the girl he couldn't quite describe in his songs. She'd been a romantic illusion all of Dean's life, but he'd finally met her. His dream girl was Beth.

Dean had surprised himself when he'd jumped in and said he'd be Angela's next victim. He'd always regarded himself as a physical coward, shying away from confrontations and situations that might lead to ugly scenes. He'd seldom fought back when he was threatened, and the few times he'd taken a stand, he'd ended up losing. Avoidance had been his pattern since grade school, but he'd taken a stand today.

The pride in Beth's eyes had made it all worthwhile. She'd looked up at him like he was some kind of hero, and Dean had felt on top of the world. And then the group had promised to protect him, and Dean was sure they'd do their best.

He'd done it for Beth. There was no way he would have let Angela make Beth her victim. He loved Beth, and he was willing to do anything, even give up his life, to protect her. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

* * *

Wicked smiled as Angela's words appeared on the computer screen. It had been simple to bring up her file. When Wicked had met the technician, he'd explained the whole system. The library hook-up was unusual. It was the place where they'd eventually install the master computer, capable of interacting with any one of the ten workstations on the second and third floors. The workstations could access the master computer for mailing addresses, copies of letters that the department secretary had sent out, and a line to the Internet although it wasn't working. Since the cable for the master computer was split, it was simple for Wicked to tap into their files to see exactly what they were writing.

There was a frown on Wicked's face as Wicked read Angela's chapter. She'd written another murder, and that was one too many, as far as Wicked was concerned. Killing was exhausting. It took an emotional toll as well as a physical one. Wicked wished that Angela would relax and take a day off, but Angela was a dedicated writer. And now Wicked would have to figure out some way to make her latest murder come true.

Poor Dean. Wicked sighed deeply. Dean actually thought that the group could protect him. Of course they couldn't. Wicked would find a way to outwit them. Dean had volunteered to become the latest victim in Angela's book, and that meant he had to die tonight.

There was one thing that Wicked found very amusing. Although Ryan had suggested that there was another person in the mansion, some kind of a homicidal killer that wanted to turn Angela's story into reality, the members of the group were still eyeing each other with distrust. It was clear they thought that Ryan could be wrong and that one of them might be the killer. The situation would have been laughable if it hadn't been so pathetic. People were social animals and they had to invest a certain amount of trust in each other. When their trust broke down, fear took hold. And fear was the tool that Wicked would use to kill Dean.

* * *

Eve had deliberately taken the workstation next to Angela, and she nudged Beth as Angela pressed the button to print. Beth waited a moment, and then she stood up. “I have to go up to my room for a minute. I forgot my rhyming dictionary.”

“But what about the killer?” Eve looked concerned.

“I'll be safe. My character isn't the victim in Angela's chapter. Isn't that right, Angela?”

“That's right. Dean's character is.”

“I'm coming with you anyway.” Eve stood up, too. “Just in case.”

Beth shrugged. “Okay, if it makes you feel better. Ryan? Will you and Angela stay right here to protect Dean?”

“Of course.”

“But . . . I just printed out and I was going to collect my pages,” Angela said. “You said I should get them right away.”

“That's true, but a minute or two shouldn't make any difference,” Ryan said. “I'll go upstairs with you when Beth and Eve get back.”

Eve waited until they were on the stairs before she let out a sigh of relief. “We did it, Beth!”

“Yes, we did.” Beth gave Eve a smile. “Let's get her pages and read them fast. We've got to find out how she killed off Dean's character.”

They stopped at the third floor so Beth could grab her rhyming dictionary, and then they rushed up to the fourth-floor printer. Angela's pages were in the tray, and they read them as fast as they could, handing them back and forth.

When they were finished, Beth turned to Eve. “Angela did it. She set Dean's murder in a red room on the ground floor. There is no red room, is there?”

“I don't think so, but we're going to check every inch of the ground floor, even the broom closet!”

“Who do you think it is, Eve?” Beth put her hand on Eve's arm. “A stranger? Or . . . or one of us?”

“I don't know. At first, I suspected Angela. I think she'd do anything to get ahead, and her book's bound to be published now. But I changed my mind this afternoon.”

“Why?”

“I caught Angela crying after we found Marc. There was no one else around, and she didn't know I was watching her. Why would she cry if she was the one who killed him?”

“She wouldn't. You're right, Eve. It can't be Angela.”

“It can't be you, either.” Eve smiled at Beth. “You're even more upset than Angela is. And I saw your expression when Angela said that Dean would be her next victim. You were really scared!”

“That's true. How about Dean? Did you ever suspect him?”

“No. Dean's a nice guy, and I can't picture him as a killer. Besides, he wouldn't have offered to be the next victim if he was.”

“Ryan?”

“No way!” Eve laughed. “Ryan doesn't even like to kill flies. He always opens a window and tries to shoo them outside.”

“I've got a confession to make.” Beth looked embarrassed. “At first I . . . I thought you were the killer.”

Eve's eyes widened with surprise. “Me?! But why did you think that?”

“Because Ryan was spending so much time with Angela and I knew you were jealous. And . . . well . . .”

“You don't have to say it.” Eve interrupted her. “I know exactly what you thought. You heard about the nasty things I'd done in the past and you thought that I could be capable of murder.”

“But I know I was wrong, Eve. You've really changed since you came here. You've even been nice to Angela, and I'm not sure that she deserves it.”

“That makes two of us!” Eve gave a little laugh. “I don't think she's the killer, but Angela's still not one of my favorite people. Come on, Beth. Let's get back before they send up a search party.”

Beth led the way, but she stopped as she opened the door to the stairwell. “Do you realize we just eliminated everybody from our group? That means the killer has to be a stranger.”

Eve followed Beth down the stairs. She really hoped that Beth was right, but she felt very uneasy. Something was hovering at the edge of her consciousness, something frightening, something that would change her mind forever about a member of their group.

* * *

Angela didn't understand why she was so nervous. Perhaps it was because they'd tried to spend every moment together since they'd found Marc's body in the greenhouse. Angela liked her privacy. She'd always relished her moments alone. She'd managed to get away for a while, earlier, but she did have to admit that she felt safer when she was surrounded by the group.

They were watching a sitcom, two professional women who wisecracked continually and thought that they were hilarious. When the commercial break arrived, Angela got up. “Does anyone want anything from the kitchen? I'm going in to pop some popcorn.”

No one responded and Angela started for the door. But before she could escape to the hallway, Ryan spoke up. “Hold on, Angela. Do you want me to go with you?”

“Why? I'm the author, not the victim. Nobody's going to mess with me!”

Ryan stared at her with surprise, and Angela realized she'd spoken too harshly. “I'm sorry, Ryan. I guess I'm a little jumpy. But what I said is true. I'm perfectly safe.”

“Okay. But if you run into anything unusual, call out and we'll come running.”

“Thanks. I'll do that.” And then she stepped out into the hallway and breathed a big sigh of relief as no one followed her on her way to the kitchen. She needed some time to gather her thoughts and enjoy just being alone.

* * *

Eve wouldn't have been pleased if she'd known that she was mirroring Angela's thoughts, but she really needed some time alone. Watching television was a total drag. She was hot and tired, and she really needed to cool off. She stood up and stretched, and then she smiled at all of them. “I'm going for a swim. And don't feel you have to come with me. I'm not the victim for tonight.”

“I'd like to go for a swim, too.” Beth looked hopeful. “You don't mind company, do you, Eve?”

Eve took one look at Beth's face and she relented. They'd all been watching Dean like hawks, and it was clear that Beth needed a break. “Come on, Beth. Get into your suit and meet me in the pool. Ryan can stay with Dean.”

* * *

Ryan and Dean watched the end of the sitcom, and Ryan started to surf the channels. He went through three times, and then he handed the control to Dean. “Here, Dean. You find something you want to watch.”

“There's nothing on,” Dean said. “Tonight's television is lousy.”

Ryan grinned. “You said it! Why don't we go in the library and read? There's a whole music section in there if you're interested.”

“Really? That sounds better than watching the tube.”

Ryan smiled. “You can read, and I'll work on my next chapter. Come on. Let's go.”

* * *

The lights in the library flickered on, and Eve smiled. She was sitting on the edge of the pool with Beth, and they were dangling their legs in the cool water. “Look at that, Beth. The guys got bored with television, too. Dean's reading and Ryan's working on his computer.”

Beth turned to look, and just then the mansion plunged into darkness. Beth gasped and grabbed Eve's arm. “What's happening?!”

“It must be another short.” Eve did her best to remain calm. “But we don't have to worry, Beth. The library's paneled in dark wood. It's not a red . . . oh my God!”

“Eve! What's the matter?!”

Beth's voice was shrill, but Eve didn't stop to explain. She just raced across the courtyard and barged into the library through the French doors.

“Ryan? Dean?!”

There was a groan from the far corner of the library and Eve ran to the chair where Dean had been sitting. And then she heard the sound of someone racing across the floor and out, into the hallway.

“Dean? Dean?!” Eve felt her way to the fireplace mantle and grabbed the long matches that were there. She struck one and gasped as she saw Dean sprawled in the chair. “Are you okay, Dean?”

And then Beth was there, cuddling Dean in her arms. And Ryan was standing in the doorway. And Angela was right behind him, wearing a shocked expression.

“He's all right!” Eve couldn't see Beth's expression, but her voice was joyful. “I can hear him breathing. Dean is alive!”

* * *

“I'm sorry I left you alone, Dean. “ Ryan looked very apologetic as they sat around the table in the courtyard. “The power outage took me by surprise, and I wanted to get to the circuit breaker as fast as I could. I really thought you'd be perfectly safe. I was only a few feet away.”

“I don't understand why Dean was attacked in the library,” Angela said. “The walls have wood paneling and the doors and ceiling are green. The library's not red.”

“Yes, it is.” Eve sighed. “The library's filled with books and they'd been read. Don't you get it, Angela?”

Angela looked stunned. “But . . . that's not what I meant, at all! I was talking about the color red. They're even spelled differently.”

Dean laughed. Except for a bump on the head and a bad scare, he was fine. “I guess the killer didn't know that.”

“It's a good thing Eve thought of it in time!” Beth stroked Dean's forehead. “At least we know our killer's not a writer. He can't spell.”

Dean winced a little. “You can't be sure of that. I'm supposed to be a writer, and I'm a lousy speller.”

“The color red is R-E-D. And the past tense of the verb ‘to read' is R-E-A-D,” Beth explained to him.

“Thanks, Beth.” Dean grinned at her. “I feel a
lot
better now.”

Everyone laughed, even though it wasn't that funny. It was a good way to release the tension they all felt. Dean had come very close to becoming the sixth victim in real life.