Wicked (16 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

There was a shocked expression on Wicked's face as Angela's newest chapter rolled out of the printer. It was a total surprise. Angela had changed her plot. Her newest victim wasn't Ryan. It was Eve!

Long moments passed while Wicked read. This chapter was very good, and the setting for Eve's murder was perfect. Of course it would present a huge problem, and Wicked would have to be very clever to make it all work the way that Angela had written it.

Wicked replaced the pages in the tray and headed for the stairs. It was time to go to the regular room and let the bright side out again. There would be time to plan Eve's murder later, and it would take some thought. Wicked wasn't entirely sure what would happen tonight, but it was bound to be an experience that no one would ever forget!

* * *

Everyone had gone up to change their clothes, and now they were all gathered out in the courtyard again, sitting around their favorite round table. Eve had joined them, and they were all watching the storm clouds roll in and the lightning flash across the sky.

Angela stood up. “I'd better get to work. I've got a whole chapter to write.”

“That's not a very good idea.” Ryan looked up as another lightning bolt flashed across the sky above them.

“But I have to work.” Angela looked very upset. “I have to write my chapter before tonight!”

Ryan shook his head. “Not while there's an electrical storm going on. We could blow out the motherboard on the computer if lightning strikes while you're working.”

“But how can you set a trap for the killer if I don't write my chapter? You've got to let me do it!”

Eve grinned. She was about to drop her bombshell, and she could hardly wait to see the expression on Angela's face. “You don't have to work, Angela. Your chapter's already written.”

“What do you mean?!”

Angela's voice was high and shrill, and Eve reached out to take her arm. “Sit down, Angela. And calm down. I wrote a fake chapter, that's all.”

“You wrote
my
next chapter?!”

Angela was glaring and Eve patted her arm. “Relax, Angela. And don't worry. I'll tear up my chapter and you can write the real one, right after we catch the killer.”

“Come on, Angela. . . . Loosen up.” Ryan draped his arm around Angela's shoulders. “Eve did us all a favor. There's nothing to get mad about.”

“But . . . it's
my
plot. And it's
my
book!”

“You're absolutely right,” Eve said. “And I know my chapter's not half as good as the one you're going to write. But I couldn't wait, Angela. The storm was coming, and I had to get it done.”

Angela didn't look quite so angry. “You don't think your chapter's very good?”

“No. It's not very good at all. You're the best writer, Angela.”

Angela gave Eve a small smile. She was obviously placated by Eve's compliment. “Where did you set the murder, Eve?”

“In the stairwell.”

“The stairwell?” Angela looked amused. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I thought it might be a good place to trap the killer. We can split into two groups. One group can be at the top of the stairs and the other group can be at the bottom.”

“Not bad. Of course, I wouldn't have set it there, but it might work. What floor is Ryan's character near?”

“I didn't say. But it's not Ryan's character, it's mine.”

“Yours?” Ryan's mouth dropped open. “Eve! What have you done?!”

* * *

“Somebody's already read these pages.” Ryan pulled Eve's work out of the printer. “They're upside down.”

Beth's eyes widened and she shuddered. “The killer?”

“Who else?” Eve tried for a jaunty tone, but her voice was shaking slightly.

“Has anyone else been up here?” Ryan turned to the group. They shook their heads, one by one, and Ryan put his arm around Eve. “The killer's going to be after you, Eve. And I'm not letting you out of my sight!”

Even though Eve didn't regret her decision, she was beginning to get very nervous. “That's fine with me, Ryan.”

“We're going to watch Eve, too,” Beth offered. “Isn't that right, Dean?”

“Right. We'll help you protect her, Ryan.”

“I'll help, too.” Angela spoke up just as soon as she realized that everyone had turned to look at her. “That goes without saying. You must be terrified, Eve.”

Eve tried for a brave shrug, but it didn't quite work. “I don't know if I'm terrified, but I'm certainly a little nervous.”

“A little nervous?” Beth gave a shaky laugh. “If I were you, I'd be a basket case! But you don't have to worry, Eve. We're not going to leave you alone for any reason, and that's a promise.”

“You'll have to leave me alone. The killer's got to have a chance to murder me. I'm the bait for your trap.”

“Eve's right.” Ryan looked sick, but he nodded.

“Come on. Let's go downstairs.” Beth took Eve's hand and headed for the stairs. “Just knowing that the killer was standing right here at the printer is giving me the creeps!”

They gathered up flashlights, candles, and matches and then they all headed back out to the courtyard. It made them feel better to be outside, even though the storm was threatening.

“Okay.” Ryan set their supplies in the center of the round table. “We've got three flashlights and two candles. Who wants what?”

Angela yawned. “I'll take a flashlight, and then I'm going up to my room to take a nap. It's going to be a long night.”

“But aren't you nervous about leaving the group?” Beth shivered a little.

“Of course not.” Angela shrugged. “I've never been a victim in any of my chapters. I'm perfectly safe.”

Ryan looked very thoughtful when Angela left, and then he turned to Eve. “Do you want a flashlight, or a candle?”

“A candle. I was carrying one in my chapter—it'll be more authentic.”

“Oh, Eve!” Beth shivered. “I don't know how you can be so brave.”

“It's not bravery, Beth. I figure we're just going to get one chance at this, and I want to do everything right.”

“Maybe we'd better read over the chapter one more time.” Dean looked concerned. “Eve's got a point. We want to do everything right.”

Ryan agreed. “I left it in the printer tray. I'd better go back up and get it.”

“We'll stay right here with Eve.” Beth looked very serious.

“That's a promise,” Dean said. “If the killer tries anything while you're gone, he'll have to go through us.”

* * *

Ryan's heart was pounding hard as he raced back up to the fourth floor. He hadn't left the pages in the printer. They were right on the table, under the box with the candles and the flashlights. But Angela had been very insistent about going to her room, and that made Ryan suspicious. She'd been upset that Eve had written her chapter and she might write a new one, even though he'd warned her not to use her computer during the storm. Ryan was going to disable the printer, just in case. He certainly didn't want to confuse the killer with more than one victim!

The printer was on a stand with wheels, and Ryan rolled it away from the wall. He found the cable that connected it to the workstations and started to loosen it when he noticed something strange. There was a telephone cord plugged into the back of the printer.

Ryan's heart beat fast as he traced the wire to a brand-new phone jack in the wall. The printer was set up to act as a fax machine, and fax machines usually had dedicated lines. If this wasn't the main line that ran into the house, it might still be active. And if it was, he could send a fax to the campus police!

Five minutes later, Ryan was hurrying down the stairs again. He'd typed in a message on Eve's workstation and sent the fax. The message had been short and to the point.
Writers' workshop quarantined at Sutler Mansion. Phone out. Five murdered. Send help!
As soon as Eve's monitor had indicated that the fax had been sent, he'd rushed back up to the fourth floor and disabled the printer.

Ryan made up his mind as stepped out into the courtyard. He wasn't going to tell them what he'd done. If he was wrong and the fax line wasn't active, he didn't want to get their hopes up. They might relax a little and let down their guard, and he wanted them all to be alert to protect Eve. If he was right, help would soon be on the way, and that couldn't be too soon to suit him!

* * *

The two officers were just going out the door when they heard the fax machine ring. The younger officer stopped, as if to go back, but his partner shook his head. “We'll catch it later. It's probably a message from the chief about wearing full uniforms to work. What we don't know won't hurt us.”

“Right.” The younger officer grinned. “I sure don't want to wear a tie on a night like this. It's got to be a hundred degrees out there.”

His partner motioned him out the door and locked the office door. “What have we got for tonight?”

“Professor Ryskind wants us to check the animal lab.” The younger officer glanced at his clipboard as they climbed into the squad car. “The storm's got her white rats freaked out.”

His partner laughed. “Okay, but what are we supposed to do once we get there?”

“Give them extra food. She says it'll settle them right down.”

“Oh, great!” His partner laughed. “What else?”

The younger officer glanced at his clipboard again. “We're supposed to check the back door to the men's gym. The coach says some homeless guy's been hanging around. They think he's been sleeping in the locker room.”

“And they want us to arrest him for trespassing?”

“No.” The younger officer grinned. “We're supposed to get him a blanket and a pillow from the coach's office. The coach says he's harmless and nobody should be out on a night like this.”

“Are there any other poor souls we have to rescue?”

“Just one.” The younger officer laughed. “We have to go over to Phi Delta Epsilon. Their cat's in a tree and they can't get it down.”

His partner put the car into gear, and they drove away from the station. Lightning flashed across the sky and thunder rumbled overhead.

“We're in for a big one.” The younger officer frowned slightly. “They're saying it's going to be the storm of the century.”

“It sure looks that way. Let's get that cat down before it starts to rain.”

The younger officer jumped as lightning struck a tree they were passing. It was followed, almost immediately, by a crash of thunder so loud that both officers winced. “At least we don't have to worry about any crimes. Nobody's going to go out tonight.”

“That's true. But we never have any real crimes here. I've been a campus cop ever since I retired from the force, and the biggest thing that ever came down was some guy trying to sneak a bottle of booze into a football game.”

“No real crimes?”

“Well . . .” His partner shrugged. “We did make one arrest about five years back, some guy trying to break into a car.”

“But that's a real crime.” The younger officer looked interested.

“Actually, it wasn't. It turned out to be his girlfriend's car, and she'd locked her keys inside by mistake. After she came down to the station and explained the whole thing, we let him go.”

“Maybe we'll get a big case someday . . . like a murder.”

“Here?” His partner laughed. “You've got to be kidding. This is a private college with good little rich kids. The biggest crime they'll ever commit is pocketing a salt shaker from the cafeteria!”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

It would be difficult to turn Angela's newest chapter into reality, but Wicked was the only one who was smart enough to do it. They were watching Eve, protecting her, and Wicked had to find a way to lure them away. It would take some careful planning, but Wicked could do it. The storm was a real help. The rain was coming down hard, splattering against the windowpanes with a loud drumming sound that would mask any noise that Wicked made. And since they'd all gone inside when the rain had started, Wicked's job would be even easier.

Jeremy had tried to fool them by using a tape recorder, and Wicked planned to use the same method. Wicked had taken Jeremy's tape recorder, and it was a perfect tool to lure Eve's friends away. The plan would work. Wicked was sure of it. Angela's newest chapter would turn into fact, and Eve would die tonight.

* * *

Eve sat in the middle of the couch with Beth on one side and Ryan on the other. Dean was across from them, in a wing chair he'd moved to a spot where he could watch the doors and windows. The storm was raging outside, and they'd all been thoroughly drenched as they'd dashed into the house. Ryan had started a fire in the fireplace, but Eve was still shivering.

“Do you want a blanket, Eve?” Ryan hugged her a little tighter.

“No. That's okay. I'm warming up now.” Eve did her best to smile. There was no way she'd admit that she was actually shivering from fright.

“I wish Angela would come down.” Beth sighed. “The more people we have to watch Eve, the safer she'll be.”

Ryan shook his head. “Actually, we're probably better off without her.”

“Why?” Dean looked surprised.

“Because Angela always tries to be the center of attention and we need to concentrate on Eve.”

“You're right,” Beth agreed. “If Angela were here, she'd just distract us. But I'm a little worried about her, upstairs all alone. I know she's not the victim, but what if the killer decides that Eve's too hard to kill? He might go after Angela, instead.”

“He wouldn't do that.” Ryan shook his head. “He's always followed Angela's chapters. Serial killers don't break their patterns. It's a part of their sickness.”

“Maybe that's true, but I agree with Beth,” Eve said. “I think we should all go up to get Angela. I'd feel a lot better if she were here.”

“But why?” Dean looked puzzled. “Maybe I'm wrong, but I got the impression that you didn't like Angela.”

“You're not wrong. I don't like Angela very much, but I'm still concerned about her.”

Just then there was a brilliant flash of lightning that lit up the whole living room as bright as day. It was followed by a mighty crash of thunder, and then a loud snap that plunged the room into darkness.

“Oh, oh!” Ryan groaned. “I think that one hit a power line. Grab your flashlights and candles. They're right in the middle of the coffee table.”

Ryan turned on his flashlight, and Eve gave a sigh of relief. Things weren't quite as scary when they had a source of light. Then Dean's flashlight clicked on, and Eve felt even better.

Dean aimed his light at the table so he could pick up the candles and books of matches. “Beth? Here's your candle and matches. And Eve? Here's yours.”

Eve tried to steady her hand as she struck a match, but she was trembling so much, she almost dropped her candle.

“Let me do it for you, Eve.” Ryan struck a match and lit Eve's candle.

Eve smiled as she took the candle. “Thanks. I really hate storms like this!”

“So do I. They always remind me of horror stories where . . .” Beth's voice trailed off, and she gave Eve an apologetic glance. “I'm sorry, Eve. I don't want to make you more nervous.”

Eve gave a shaky laugh. “That's impossible. I'm already as nervous as I can get.”

Beth winced as a drop of hot wax fell on her hand. “I really wish we had holders for these candles. They're going to drip wax all over.”

“There's a pair of silver candlestick holders on the piano.” Dean got up from his chair. “Hold on a second. I'll get them.”

They all watched the beam of Dean's flashlight as he crossed the room to get the candlestick holders. A moment later, he was back, and he handed one to Eve and one to Beth.

“Drip some wax in the bottom, Beth.” Eve showed her how. “The bottom of the candle will stick in the wax, and it won't fall out if you tip . . .”

Eve's advice was interrupted by another crash of thunder. The storm was growing worse. And then there was a horrible sound that made them all jump.

“What was that?!” Eve swallowed hard.

Ryan reached out to take Eve's arm. “It was probably just a branch scraping against a window. The wind's blowing hard outside.”

“Are you sure?” Eve was still worried. It hadn't sounded like a branch to her.

“I'm sure. The storm's making us all a little jumpy, and we're overreacting to . . .”

Ryan stopped in midsentence as they heard the sound again. And then again.

“That was no branch.” Beth shivered. “It was a scream.”

“You're right,” Ryan said. “I think it came from upstairs.”

“Angela!” Dean jumped to his feet. “Come on, everybody. We've got to make sure she's all right.”

Ryan grabbed Dean's arm. “Hold it, Dean. This could be a trap. I'll go up first. Eve? I want you right behind me, one step down. And Beth? You get behind Eve. Dean'll bring up the rear.”

“We'd better arm ourselves.” Dean picked up a fireplace poker and handed it to Ryan. “I'll take a piece of wood. I can swing it like a bat.”

They all nodded. It was a good plan. But Eve was very nervous as they started up the dark stairwell. Although the guys searched the shadow with their flashlights, it was still very frightening.

“It's so quiet.” Beth whispered as they climbed up to the second floor. “It's really . . . eerie.”

Eve didn't say anything. She was too busy straining her ears for the sounds of someone moving or breathing in the darkness.

They reached the second-floor landing, and Ryan stopped. “Okay. One floor to go. We'll take it slow, and if anyone hears anything, call out and stop dead in your tracks.”

“Please don't say dead,” Eve said, trying for a little humor, and everyone laughed nervously. And then they started up the stairs again, to the third floor.

It took at least five minutes to reach the landing, and Ryan made sure they were all ready when he opened the stairwell door. The sound of the storm assaulted their ears, and it was almost a relief from the eerie silence of the stairwell. Lightning streaked through the window at the end of the hallway and lit up the entire hall with flashes of brilliant light. It was almost like watching a giant strobe light, and Eve was afraid to blink for fear she'd miss some danger that lurked in a corner.

They stopped at Angela's door. It was closed, and Ryan pushed it open. “Angela? Are you all right?”

But Angela wasn't in her room. Her bed was rumpled, her quilt was on the floor, and there was a strange smell in the air. It was something familiar, but Eve couldn't quite place it. And then Ryan's flashlight illuminated a trail of dark red leading from the bed to the door.

“That looks like blood!” Eve's voice was shaking as she pointed to the trail. “Angela's hurt and the killer's got her!”

Ryan took Eve's arm. “We'd better split up to look for Angela. It looks like she's losing a lot of blood. I'll take Eve with me and we'll search the second floor. You guys check all the rooms on this floor and wait at the stairwell door for us.”

Eve shuddered as they went down the stairs again. She didn't understand why the killer had targeted Angela, but this wasn't the time to ask questions. They had to find Angela fast, before she bled to death.

They'd just checked the last room on the second floor when they heard another scream. Ryan pulled Eve close to him and listened intently. There was another scream, a few seconds later, and Ryan pulled Eve toward the stairwell. “He's got her out in the courtyard!”

“Let's go!” Eve stepped through the door, but Ryan grabbed her arm.

“No, Eve. I'm going to send you back up to Dean and Beth where you'll be safe.”

“I don't understand why I can't go with you. You might need some help.”

Ryan shook his head. “I won't take you with me, Eve. It's too dangerous. Just do what I say . . . please?”

“Okay.” Ryan was still concerned about protecting her, and that made her feel good. He didn't realize that she could hold her own in a fight, but this wasn't the time to convince him. Angela was in trouble, and there wasn't a moment to waste.

“Dean? Beth?” Ryan called out.

“We're here.” Dean's voice floated down the stairwell. “Did you find her?”

“She's out in the courtyard, and I'm going down there. Stay right there, and I'll send Eve up to you.”

* * *

Wicked smiled as Eve started to climb the stairs. Her face was illuminated by the flickering candle she carried, and she didn't look at all frightened. Wicked's plan had worked perfectly. Everyone had assumed that the killer was out in the courtyard with Angela.

Eve hesitated on the third step. That made Wicked feel good. Her candle was trembling in her hand. She was beginning to get a little nervous. Wicked knew she was remembering Angela's chapter and where her murder had taken place. Eve would die on the staircase, exactly as Angela had written it. Wicked would make her fiction turn into fact.

But Eve still didn't look nervous enough to give Wicked any real satisfaction. Wicked wanted to see the fear that would wash over Eve's features and make her beautiful face turn ugly with terror.

It was hard to wait, and Wicked gripped the knife tightly. Patience was a virtue, and Wicked would wait until Eve rounded the bend in the staircase. That was when she would see Wicked. Her candle would illuminate Wicked's long, sharp knife, and Eve would gasp in horror. Very soon now, Eve Carrington would realize that she was all alone with her worst nightmare.

* * *

It was too quiet in the stairwell, and Eve found that her legs were shaking as she climbed up another step. The same strange smell that she'd noticed in Angela's room hovered in the stuffy air. Sour and sweet with a hint of spice. Eve wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed somehow ominous.

She didn't like this. Eve climbed up another step, and then she opened her mouth to call out for Beth and Dean. They could meet her on the stairs. But Eve didn't want them to know that she was frightened for no reason at all. The killer was out in the courtyard with Angela. He couldn't be two places at once. She was perfectly safe. All she had to do was climb up the stairs and push open the door, and Beth and Dean would be there.

Eve stopped and listened. Her imagination must be working overtime, because she thought she could hear the sound of faint breathing. It seemed to come from above, right past the bend in the staircase. But there was no one here, no one but her. And she only had a few more steps to go.

Ketchup. That was the smell. Eve began to smile as she recognized it. But who had spilled ketchup on the stairs? And why had she smelled it in Angela's room?

Eve climbed up another step, puzzling over the smell. Ketchup. They used it in the movies because it looked like blood. But if it had been ketchup in Angela's room, instead of blood . . .

Eve stopped cold. Something was wrong. Her mouth felt dry and she swallowed. Ketchup. Blood. Angela. The sound of faint breathing. Some instinct made Eve raise her candle high enough to see beyond the bend. And what she saw made her eyes widen in surprise.

“Angela?!” Eve gasped as she saw Angela's face. “We've been looking all over for you! Are you hurt?”

But Angela didn't answer. She just rose slowly to her feet. And then she smiled a terrible smile.

Suddenly Eve remembered what had been hovering at the edge of her mind. Angela had smiled this smile before, when she'd goaded Eve to go into the walk-in cooler. She'd seemed like a different person then, and Eve had realized that Angela had a mean side. But what if this wasn't just a mean side? What if Angela truly had a split personality? And what if Angela was the killer?

Eve didn't stop to consider whether she was right or wrong. She just started to back down the stairs. “Angela? Are you all right?”

“I'm not Angela. I'm Wicked. And you're the next to die!”

Angela lunged forward and Eve reacted instantly. She blew out her candle and pressed herself back, against the opposite wall. She heard Angela stumble in the darkness, but Eve didn't wait to see if she'd fallen. Eve just whirled and ran back down to the second floor. She had to get away from Angela!

A flash of lightning illuminated the hallway as Eve raced toward Ryan's room. She ducked in, shut the door behind her, and pushed a chair in front of it to wedge it shut.

She was safe! Eve's knees went suddenly weak, and she crumpled to the floor. Angela was a classic case of a split personality. One side of her was nice, trying to be friendly to everyone. And the other side was a maniacal killer.

Long moments passed in silence, and Eve began to take heart. Had she managed to elude Angela? But then Eve heard something that made her heart leap up to hear throat. It was the sound of Angela's footsteps, coming down the hallway, as sure and certain as death, itself. And Angela's voice, barely a whisper, speaking the words that made Eve's blood run cold.

“I know you're here, Eve. You can't hide from me. Wicked will find you. Wicked will kill you. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”