Mike Winfeld won the tournament. But on the day that she had been taking the pictures, she had shot an extra roll because someone had been alone at the sand trap.
Alone...No! Not really alone.Because in the next shots there had been a dozen heads rising from behind the dune. People had been following the golfers like a giant wave. There had been only a matter of seconds when the man had been alone--perhaps twenty feet ahead of the others--and only alone for those seconds because of the slope of the dune. Seconds she had captured because of the speed of her film? Seconds... seconds were relative. It only took a matter of seconds for a quick and clever man to...what?
Bryn rushed out of the den and back to Lee's desk. She pulled out the original set of pictures that she had done and found the roll with the golfer. She could vaguely see the man in the sand, but to know anything for sure she would have to blow up those shots and do what she had that morning with others: flip through the thirty-six exposures and create a motion-picture effect.
Bryn raced back upstairs, past the glass windows to the studio door. Then she paused. The group was all wearing headsets, harmonizing by a microphone. She bit her lip. She might well be crazy; it would probably make more sense for her to do the pictures,then interrupt Lee.
Full of purpose, she changed back into her jeans and scribbled out a note telling Lee that she was developing new pictures "on a hunch." She taped it to the door and left.
She had driven halfway to her town house before she realized she had forgotten to turn the security system back on.
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Bryn thought about going back,then decided that the whisperer wasn't going to attack four healthy males. And she was so anxious to see if she was right....
Bryn took her negatives straight into the darkroom. As the minutes passed, she became more and more excited. From dripping blank paper, the pictures began to emerge.
She could barely wait for the enlargements to dry. She forced herself to wait for the pictures to fully develop; then she carried them back into the house.
Chills rippled through her, but there was excitement as well. She could see it all clearly. Disjointed, jerky as she flipped through the shots, but the story was obvious.
There he was...Winfeld.Looking at the sand with dismay.Looking back to see if he could be seen. The wave of people was close, but he must have reached a conclusion with split-second determination.
The film had caught it all. A rustle of his foot hid his ball beneath the sand. From his pocket he dropped another.
Bryn must have been clicking off a roll of film one shot after the other. At 1000 ASA, she had it all.His hand in his pocket; the ball, falling; falling... and on the green.
A game!she thought furiously. It has all been over...A game. Adam had been kidnapped, and she had been struck and terrorized because of a foolish game where grown men chased a little white ball around a green....
A game for which Mike Winfeld had earned a prize of two hundred fifty thousand dollars.
She had to show the pictures to Lee. Now she could interrupt the band without a thought....
Bryn was so engrossed with her thoughts that she didn't notice the black sedan on the corner.
She was, in fact, turning down the isolated road that led to Lee's house before she realized that she had been followed. And then it was too late.
Panic surged within her as she at last saw the car in herrearview mirror. She had to reach the driveway first.Had to get through the front door. Had to slam it...
Perspiration beaded on her body, and her fingers began to slip on the steering wheel. Bryn raced over the gravel driveway, jerking to a stop before the front door. The sedan screeched to a stop behind her.
She flew wildly from the van, throwing herself toward the
frontdoor. She got it open; she got inside; she turned to slam it shut and couldn't, because he was there already,throwing his athlete's weight against it....
Bryn screamed. Mike Winfeld--handsome, young, suntanned Mike Winfeld--was reaching for her, his lips menacinglycompressed, his eyes hard and cold. "You can't escape me..." he began, but she could.
With a cry tearing from her throat she raced for the stairs. He was behind her every step of the way. She heard his footsteps in rhythm with her heart. She reached the glass-encased studio; she saw Lee. He was sitting at his drums. He was laughing, smiling at something Andrew was saying.
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"Lee!" She screamed out his name just as his handsomely muscled arms brought the sticks crashing down on the drums. He just kept smiling. He couldn't hear her, and he was still looking at Andrew....
Bryn started to run past the glass toward the door. She was jerked to a painful stop as MikeWinfeld's hands tangled in her hair. He was spinning her around, dragging her down to the floor.