No more procrastination. Read the e-mails!

Rachel opened Kristen’s e-mail first and read it hurriedly.

Her stomach muscles knotted painfully.

Hi Rach,

I hate like the devil to be the bearer of more terrible news. I can hardly believe it myself. It was only last month that I felt compelled to let you and Lindsay know about Haylie Swanson dying and that a homeless man was arrested for her murder. Now, we’ve just found out that Aurora Zephyr died while on a trip to New York City. She and Lindsay had gotten together while she was there and…No one knows for sure what happened, but it looks like she tripped and fell onto the subway tracks. She didn’t have any ID on her at the time, so it took a while for the police to identify her.

I know you are opposed to our having the class reunion, but with two more classmates gone…

Look, Rach, I wouldn’t say this to just anybody, but my gut instincts-maybe my reporter instincts-are screaming that there’s something just not right about Haylie and Aurora dying within weeks of each other, and both dying violent deaths. I’ve pointed this out to others on the reunion committee and suggested we consider canceling our plans, but everyone else thinks I’m overreacting. What do you think?

Kris

The Kristen Daniels that Rachel had once known was not the nervous, hysterical type, and she doubted that the thirty-eight-year-old Kristen Delmonico was either. So, if Kris’s gut instincts were warning her that something was off center about the recent deaths of two old classmates, then Rachel believed her.

So, what could she do? She wasn’t in Portland or New York City. She hadn’t seen either Haylie or Aurora in twenty years. Although she was sorry to hear about their deaths, their dying had no effect on her life.

Or did it?

Get real, she told herself. Don’t buy into some weird theory that Kristen has concocted in her imaginative reporter brain.

Rachel scrolled down to the e-mail from Lindsay, opened it, and read rapidly through the brief message.

Hello Rachel,

I’m sure by now someone has contacted you with the sad news that Aurora Zephyr died accidentally while visiting here in New York City. I still can’t believe she’s gone. We had such a nice visit while she was here. Like old times.

Strange, isn’t it, that two of our old gang have died recently under such tragic circumstances. I know it’s stupid of me to even think it, but I can’t shake the idea that somehow their deaths are connected to the reunion Kristen and the others are planning. It’s as if fate is trying to warn us not to have a reunion.

What’s your take on this? You were always the sensible, levelheaded one. If anyone can sort through this craziness, you can.

XOXOXO…Lindsay

Rachel took a deep breath, then released it. The corners of her mouth lifted in a tentative smile as she remembered that the sweet, emotional Lindsay always signed all her notes with Xs and Os. Hugs and kisses.

Staring at the computer screen, Rachel read part of the last line. If anyone can sort through this craziness, you can.

Rachel stood, carried her mug of cool coffee to the sink, and dumped it in; then she poured herself a fresh cup. Glancing at the clock on the microwave, she realized it was nearly six. Her stomach growled. She needed to eat a bite of something before she took her medication. More antibiotics. But no more pain pills. Those damn things made her brain fuzzy. She hated that. Being a bit of a control freak, she didn’t like the idea that the drugs influenced her brain.

Pacing in her small kitchen, she thought about the basic facts. From what she’d been told, Haylie Swanson had been slightly unbalanced for the past twenty-plus years, ever since her boyfriend, Ian Powers, had died in a car crash their senior year of high school. It was unfortunate that she hadn’t been able to pull her life together, and just as unfortunate that a homeless guy had robbed and killed her. But how could her death have anything to do with Jake’s murder or the upcoming reunion? And poor Aurora. Rachel remembered how much the dark, curly-haired girl had longed to be an actress. Instead she’d married young and had a baby. Tragic that she had lost her footing and wound up crushed to death by a subway train. But her death had nothing to do with the reunion or with Jake. Accidents happened every day, every hour.

Yeah, so why are you questioning the facts about how they died? It’s more than just your normal policewoman curiosity. Maybe you’re letting your imagination run wild because Kristen and Lindsay are.

But why would three intelligent women have the same doubts?

Because of Jake Marcott. Because one horrible night years ago, a boy all three of them had loved was murdered at the school dance, and this reunion was stirring up memories all of them would prefer to forget.

She knew what she should do-e-mail Kristen and Lindsay to tell them how sorry she was to hear about Aurora, then add that she hoped the reunion came off without a hitch but she wouldn’t be there.

After all, she had the perfect excuse, hadn’t she? She was recuperating from a near-fatal gunshot wound.

Before daylight, while others slept peacefully in their soft beds inside their safe homes, she made yet another pilgrimage to the shrine she was constructing in the basement of St. Elizabeth’s, now abandoned and awaiting demolition. This was her secret place, one she had created for her eyes only, not to be shared with anyone else. Except maybe Jake’s ghost. Sometimes she felt his presence down here in this dark, dank basement. A whiff of the aftershave he’d worn often scented the musty air. And she would swear that every once in a while, she could hear his laughter. She had both loved and hated Jake’s laugh, as she had both loved and hated him.

If only things had been different…If only Jake had been different. He had loved her. She knew he had. But he had been cruel to her and had allowed those bitches to be mean to her, to ignore her, to treat her as if she were nobody.

They thought he had loved them-Lindsay and Kristen. Even Rachel thought he’d cared about her. Fools. All of them. She was the only one he’d ever loved.

Shining the flashlight over the row of lockers in the basement, she smiled. One item at a time. Adding one memento here and there, building this monument to Jake, to his death, to the past. And all the while planning the next execution. They had to die. If she could kill all of them before the reunion, fine. If not, she would find a way to end their lives that night.

She ran her hand over her side, recalling the feel of the knife slashing through her clothing and into her side. Thank God, it had been a superficial wound. And although her hand was healing nicely, it had caused her a great deal of pain. Since she was a gourmet cook, it was easy enough to explain that a paring knife had slipped and slit open the fleshy skin and tendon between her thumb and forefinger.

You’ll pay for the pain you caused me, Lindsay.

She giggled.

Jake had been hot after Lindsay.

All these years she had believed Lindsay’s baby was Jake’s. Boy, had she been wrong! She was glad the child hadn’t been Jake’s. Lindsay was not worthy of being a mother to Jake’s child.

If only she had known the truth years ago. The truth could have saved her from such anguish, such torment, thinking Jake had a child out there somewhere. Alive and well.

Her plans to eliminate Lindsay in New York City had failed. But there was more than one way to accomplish a goal. The reunion was less than six weeks away. If she was lucky, Lindsay and Rachel would come home for the big event. And if not?

Just wait and see.

Was there a way to entice both Lindsay and Rachel back to Portland? Think. What would bring them back here early? Everyone had a weak spot, didn’t they, an Achilles’ heel?