“He died of a heart thing, Marnie,” Roberta said. “I’m going to miss him, too. And I guess we’re really dead in the water when it comes to a new show—”
“Maybe not,” Vince said. “I’ve got the financing all lined up. I’ve called in a lot of favors for this. I’m committed to making it happen. We could do the kids—on their own. Grown-up, suddenly both parents gone, and they are on their own. All that stands between innocents and the hidden monsters that plague the world.”
Hidden monsters.
Hidden human monsters.
“I will let you all know.”
“Tonight, Marnie, please?” Grayson begged.
“I’ll do my best,” she promised.
She’d been on the phone in her room. When she hung up, Cara and Jeremy both began to appear before her.
“I’d love it,” Jeremy said.
“I would, too,” Cara said, clapping her hands together and looking heavenward as she spoke. “Stopping everything at Horror-palooza to honor us. I think it’s a fitting tribute. Marnie, you could speak. And you could tell everyone that we were a couple in real life!”
“And you could tell them all that I wasn’t taking drugs. I wasn’t trying to get it up. I wasn’t after sex.” He paused and looked at Cara. “The love of my life had just died.”
“Let me talk to Bryan when he comes in. You two, come out to the living room. Now! While you’re visible. Talk to Angela. She’s really good at...”
Dead people.
She couldn’t say that!
“She’s far more experienced with situations like this than I am,” Marnie said.
“Love to meet her,” Jeremy said.
Marnie hopped up and opened the door. She hurried into the hallway, calling to Angela, who was in the living room, still on the sofa, working with her computer.
She rose quickly.
“Angela, Jeremy is here. He’s going to tell you about his feelings, about everything that happened yesterday.”
“We’re going to find the truth,” Angela assured him. “Jeremy, you could tell me...”
No, he couldn’t.
Jeremy had made it out of Marnie’s room and down the hall. And then he had faded away.
“Almost,” Cara said simply.
And then, as if racing off to join him, she disappeared, as well.
*
Sophie set Bryan up at one of the station computers with three different cell phone videos of the murder of Cara Barton.
He’d already seen them. Over and over again.
But this time, he watched faces.
Roberta Alan sat on the other side of Cara Barton. She didn’t rise when Blood-bone came to the table; she was looking up as Cara and Marnie improvised...
Then she looked horrified—but not until Cara’s blood spilled on her.
David Neal stood in front of the table. He didn’t seem to have any reaction at all.
He just stared.
Next go-around, Bryan watched Grayson Adair.
The minute the sword struck at Cara, he leaped out of his chair and backed away.
Bryan switched views on the computer, finding the video that showed Malcolm Dangerfield.
Dangerfield had stood, naturally, when he’d seen the commotion going on. His expression seemed to change from curiosity to shock.
Of course, they were all actors...playing roles?
Sophie popped her head in the doorway. “Any luck?”
He looked up at her. “Who is the actual best actor in the group?” he asked her.
“Pardon?”
“Dark Harbor—and let’s throw in Malcolm Dangerfield. And even our boy in lockup, David Neal. Vince Carlton.”
“Carlton is a producer.”
“Hey, we’re all actors at times.”
“Well, in my mind, Marnie is the best. There’s emoting—and there’s emotion. Malcolm is the hottest and in a number of pretty amazing shows...but he’s Malcolm. Beautiful and a personality. Um...Grayson was always fine in his role. I don’t think I’ve seen him do much else. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with someone like Vince Carlton. There’s acting—and there’s lying. Part of all the games, I believe. David Neal is a wild card—and still here. Though, I’m not sure we’re going to get away with keeping him. He’s called for an attorney. He’s working on getting out. Who did I miss? Roberta. Lovely woman. Hard, though. The kind of hard that might succeed, but...but I don’t see her becoming someone we consider the best actress that’s out today or anything like that.”
Bryan nodded, watching the gruesome murder one more time.
“Did I help any?” Sophie asked.
“I don’t like David Neal,” he said. “But...there’s just no way he had access to Jeremy Highsmith’s lunch.”
“Stunt double,” Sophie said. “Oh, wait, I don’t think that stage managers get stunt doubles. Well, Jeremy Highsmith wasn’t exactly poisoned, but the drugs he was given were like poison—to him. So, I’d say someone who knew him, knew his age, general health... Poisoning is a woman’s thing traditionally. Though we can’t go by tradition anymore.”
Bryan rose, still staring at the computer, thoughtful. “Thanks, Sophie.” He put through a call to Marnie.
She described the call she had received from Grayson—the conference call.
“What do you think?” he asked her.
“What do I think?” she repeated. “I think I’m angry, really angry. I don’t know what is going on, who it is who wants what. But two of my friends are dead. A hired killer was vicious—Cara was killed so brutally. Then the hired killer was shot. And now Jeremy... This killer is a chameleon, always changing. Almost as if he—or she—is always taking on new roles. Bryan, we have to catch him, stop this—because if not, nothing will ever be safe. I’m angry. I want to do it. I want to go to Horror-palooza, and I want to believe that somewhere, somehow, the killer is going to show his hand. I want to have a grand show where Cara and Jeremy are honored. They want it...or so their ghosts say. Ghosts. Crazy. It’s all crazy. Crazy to do it. But you’ll be with me, right?”
“I’ll be with you,” he vowed.
He looked at Sophie. “We’re on for tomorrow,” he said.
“I’ll talk to Vining. We’ll have a massive police presence to back up your team.”
Five minutes later, Bryan was out of the police station door, headed to the duplex.
There was a patrol car in front of the house. The officer waved to him.
All the lights were low inside, but when he reached the door, Jackson was there to open it, George at his side.
“Midnight, and all is well,” Jackson said drily.
“Marnie?”
“In bed.”
Bryan gave George a good pat on the head and then headed down the hall. He quietly opened the door.
The room was dim, only the television granting it light.
Marnie was awake, seated on the bed, wrapped in a throw blanket. She was watching footage of Jeremy Highsmith’s life.
“I just had no idea they were having an affair,” she said. “They were both friends of mine, and I didn’t even notice.”
“They didn’t want to be noticed.” He walked over in front of the television, afraid that she would grow morose. He tried to turn the television off smoothly. He had such a great line to give her.
I do want to be noticed!
But it was a new TV, a smart TV, and he couldn’t find a button anywhere.
Marnie laughed; she had the remote control. The television went off. In the pitch dark he heard her rise and come to him.
Under the throw she was naked. She walked into his arms. He inhaled the sweet scents of her soap and shampoo and something that was clean and erotic and all Marnie. She came up onto her toes, kissing his lips with a haunting tease.
He caught her by the shoulder. “Careful... I could be falling in love.”
“What do you call it when you’ve already crashed hard?” she whispered.
He hiked her up, and they fell onto the bed together.
His lips found hers, and then they traveled down her naked length.
He murmured against her flesh.
“Yes... I’ve already crashed,” she whispered. He smiled, rising against her, and they both struggled with his clothing. Then he held her tight against him, feeling her warm skin against his body.
Yes, he’d crashed, too.
There was no going back.
16
There was no way to watch. No way to simply stare at a house and imagine...