"Ripley!"

Jimmy heard the shriek and jumped up. What was going on? What had happened to the cat?

He wanted to go to the door, but of course he couldn't. Maybe it wasn't any big deal. Maybe Mrs. Collins had just stepped on his tail or swatted at him or something and Paige got all bent out of shape-

But he'd heard the terror in her voice.

Jimmy crept from the protection of the oak tree and slunk along the side of the house. He couldn't go up on the porch and look in the big picture window, but if he remembered from the two times he'd been inside the house, there was a little window that leaked light into the entrance hall-

A little window that was about two feet above his head. "Damn it all," he swore in his best imitation of his father. He looked around. Where was the wooden milk carton always so conveniently present in the movies? While he was pondering this question, he heard the front door open. He shrank against the house, watching while the person in a poncho led Paige out to the police cruiser. The window came down. The poncho person's hand shot out, and the cop's head sagged. Then the person dragged Paige away from the cruiser and made her get into the blue car.

Jimmy's jaw sagged as the car pulled away. For a moment he stood still, stunned. Then he raced to the front of the house, up the porch steps, and in the door. Mrs. Collins lay in the hall, blood pouring from her head. Ripley was a crumpled black lump by the wall. Jimmy dashed for the phone.

"I gotta talk to the sheriff," he yelped thirty seconds later. "It's an emergency, I'm tellin' you. Somebody took his daughter out of her house and drove away with her." He paused. "This isn't a joke. I'm tellin' the truth, I swear. It was a blue car and the license plate started with 3R." His voice rose and shook in agitation. "Listen, you've gotta tell Sheriff Meredith, because this person had a gun to Paige's head!"

True to her word, Natalie had stayed home since finding Jeff Lindstrom, only taking Blaine out once when reporters disappeared to file stories. Andrew had called at five o'clock. "There was a three-car pileup. I have two more surgeries."

"Are you the only surgeon in Port Ariel?" Natalie had asked only half playfully. Hundreds of times in her life he'd called to say he wouldn't be home for hours.

"At the moment I feel like I'm the only surgeon within a thousand miles. Keep the doors locked, honey. I have to go."

By nine-thirty she had reread a third of Wuthering Heights, Paige having started her on a Bronte kick, washed and dried a load of laundry, and was in the middle of her favorite Saturday night program when the phone rang. She clicked the mute button on the television and listened to the answering machine.

"Natalie? Are you there? It's Paige." The young voice vibrated with fear. "Natalie, if you're there, please answer."

Natalie lifted the receiver, cutting off the machine. "Paige, what's wrong?"

"I… I need you to come get me."

"Come get you? Where? What's wrong?"

A tiny sob. "I'm real scared. I think maybe Mrs. Collins is dead." A bigger sob. "And Ripley, too."

"Dead! Paige, are you home?"

"N-no. I'm at this spooky place. It's old and empty and… what?" Natalie heard another voice. "It's called The Blue Lady."

"The Blue Lady! What on earth are you doing there?"

"Please come. You have to come and you can't call the police and you have to come alone or… or…"

"Or I'll kill her," a ragged voice said. Then the line went dead.

Natalie sat frozen for an instant. This was not real. This was some silly prank Jimmy had dreamed up.

But Jimmy wasn't cruel. Impetuous and reckless, but not cruel. He wanted to be like Nick when he grew up. He would never pull such a malicious prank.

She glanced at the notepad on the table beside the phone where she'd jotted down Nick's phone number. She dialed. The phone rang ten times. "I think Mrs. Collins is dead," she could hear Paige saying. At nine-thirty either Mrs. Collins or Nick would be home with Paige, but no one answered.

She dialed 911, asked that an ambulance be dispatched to Meredith's address, gave her name, then hung up when asked to repeat the information. She didn't have time to waste. Next she called police headquarters. A pleasant-voiced woman answered. No, the sheriff wasn't in. No, Ted Hysell wasn't in. Would she like to speak with another deputy?

Natalie hesitated. Going to The Blue Lady alone was dangerous, but alerting a deputy who might arrive with the siren screaming could mean death for Paige. She calmly said she wasn't in need of help and hung up, wondering whom she could call instead. Lily? No. Much as she hated to admit it, she had doubts about Lily. Her father? He was in surgery. Harvey Coombs? Ridiculous.

Tearing through her purse looking for her car keys, she cursed the fact that there was no one to help her. Blaine followed her to the door. "I can't even take you this time," Natalie said. "A big dog might spook whoever has Paige."

But what would she do? she asked herself as she wheeled desperately out of the driveway and headed the short distance to The Blue Lady. She had no idea whom she was up against. And the gun! She'd been so flustered, she hadn't even retrieved her gun from the suitcase. She almost turned and went back for it, but there wasn't time. Besides, what if the killer searched her as soon as she entered The Blue Lady?

Finding the gun could spark a violent reaction, and Paige's life was at stake. No, she'd face this without police, without a weapon. She had no choice.

Darkness shrouded The Blue Lady dance pavilion. Over the years, owners of the hotel had hauled in truckloads of sand to create a beach along the lakefront. No one had bothered since the fire in the seventies, though, and now the narrow, eroding strip of sand looked desolate bathed in weak moonlight and cool drizzle. It was almost impossible to imagine this dismal place as a scene of fun and glamour. Natalie had the sudden, chilling impression it had sat brooding here all these years, waiting for something awful to happen inside its rotting walls.

She got out of the car and glanced around. Tattered clouds floated across the moon. Off to the side of the building sat a car mostly hidden by shadows. She could tell that it was blue, but she didn't make an effort to identify it. What was the point? Yellowish light from the sodium vapor lights of the nearby convenience store drifted dimly over the portico of the pavilion. Business was slow at the 7-Eleven tonight. Two cars and nobody entering or leaving. No one to see her go into The Blue Lady. No one to call the police. Maybe that was good.

Natalie had forgotten to put on a sweater or windbreaker. The cool, damp air clung to her bare arms; mist coated her face. She trembled, but she didn't know if it was from the sixty-degree temperature or from fear.

She had no idea what she would do when she entered the pavilion. Maybe her mere presence would be enough and the killer would let Paige go because her purpose as bait had been fulfilled.

But Paige could identify her captor. The chance of the killer letting her go was zero. And what could Natalie do about it? She was unarmed and help was not on the way. The killer had been playing games with her for days. Tragically, Paige had been drawn into the game.

The padlock hung loose. Natalie drew a deep breath and pushed open the door. "Paige?" Nothing. What had she ex pected? That the child would run into her arms and they could return to the safety of the car? She took two more steps into the cavernous room. Three candles burned on the dais. A voice floated out of the near-darkness. "Close the door behind you."

Natalie stepped back, never taking her eyes from the candles, and pushed shut the door. "Now what?"

"Come to the dais."

The dais with its three candles looked far away. She walked slowly, glancing up at the mirrored ball throwing glittering reflections from the candle flames onto the empty tables and walls. A faint scent of roses floated from the candles. The night she had followed Blaine to The Blue Lady and heard the voice so like Tamara's threatening to kill her, she had smelled roses. But tonight not even the sweet floral aroma could hide the smell of mildew and decay hovering in the abandoned pavilion.