by R. L. Stine
“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.
