An unnatural silence fell over the room. Suddenly the only sound was the combined soft breathing of the six women congregated in Mandy’s great room.

Rachel focused on Bella. “I think it’s possible.”

“But why would Jake’s killer suddenly start killing again?” Martina asked.

“And why kill Haylie and Aurora?” April inquired.

“We-Kristen and I-think it has something to do with this reunion y’all are planning,” Rachel told them. “For some reason, knowing that the old gang will be reunited has set this person off, but there has to be more to it than that. And I plan to dig as deep as possible into the Cupid Killer files and see if I can come up with something that will warrant the Portland Police Bureau reopening Jake’s case.”

“Oh.” Bella mouthed the one word, an expression of surprise on her pale face.

“I’m sorry, Bella,” Rachel said. “I know this has to be painful for you, but-”

“No, no. Really. I understand and I’m all right with whatever you need to do. No one would like to see Jake’s killer brought to justice more than I. Even now, after all these years.”

Rachel offered Bella a sympathetic half-smile. “Look, there’s nothing we can do to help Haylie or Aurora, but we can help ourselves, protect ourselves. Someone is stalking Kristen and Mandy. Anybody else? Do any of you feel as if you’re being watched? Followed? Anything missing from your houses? If anything odd has happened to you lately, tell me.”

One by one, they shook their heads, then Bella gasped. “It might be nothing, but…well, several of my scarves are missing. I thought it odd, but since I have a habit of misplacing things, I just dismissed it as that. You don’t suppose someone stole them, do you?”

“Was there any sign of a forced entry into your home?” Rachel asked.

“No, but I usually open the window in my bedroom at night. I like the fresh air. And I have been known to forget to close the window when I leave in the morning.”

“But you haven’t sensed that someone was following you or watching you?”

Bella shook her head.

“From now on, I want each of you to be alert. Not paranoid, just careful.”

“Are you working with the police?” Martina asked. “I mean, is the Portland Police Bureau aware of what’s been happening?”

“Actually, Rachel is unofficially working with Dean McMichaels,” Kristen said. “Dean is a homicide detective now. He works in the Cold Case Homicide Unit.”

“Dreamy Dean?” April sighed. “Is he as gorgeous as ever?”

“Oh, yes, he certainly is,” Kristen said.

“I used to have crazy dreams about that guy,” DeLynn admitted.

“I think it was his eyes,” Martina said. “He’s the only person I’ve ever met with golden eyes.”

Feeling just the slightest bit uncomfortable listening to the girls talk about Dean, Rachel cleared her throat. “Ladies, I think we got off the subject, didn’t we?”

“Okay, so you’re working with Dreamy Dean. I’d say that’s a plus since you two were friends from the time you were in diapers, right?” April said. “It shouldn’t be any trouble for you to convince him to reopen Jake’s case, especially if you really think it is somehow connected to what’s happening now.” April looked directly at Rachel, her gaze intensely focused. “Do you think we’re all in danger? I mean, I wasn’t one of Jake’s girlfriends or anything. Actually, we weren’t even friends.”

“I don’t know for sure who is in danger and who isn’t. We’re not even certain the scratched photographs are significant,” Rachel admitted. “For now, I’d say everyone working on the reunion committee should be careful and watch for anything unusual happening. At this point, there is no way to know for sure who has been targeted and who hasn’t or what criteria this person is using to choose his or her victims.”

“But my brother Jake, his murder, is somehow at the core of what’s happening,” Bella said, her voice a mere whisper. “Poor Aurora. She never did anything bad to anyone. And Haylie…well, we all know she was unstable, don’t we? Neither of them deserved what happened to them.”

“If you need us to sign a petition or whatever to get the police to reopen the Cupid Killer case, just let us know,” DeLynn said.

The others piped in with their endorsement of DeLynn’s statement.

Half an hour later, Rachel left Mandy’s feeling as if she had not only reconnected with old friends, but had also accomplished a great deal toward achieving her goal. She wasn’t the only person who wanted to solve the Jake Marcott murder, and in doing so, possibly save the lives of potential victims.

In the dark, dank basement of St. Elizabeth’s, she pointed her flashlight at Mandy Kim’s locker. Mandy, with her moon-pie face and expensive salon haircut and rich husband. Mandy who was and always had been too smart, too cute, too everything. Jake used to talk about what a living doll Mandy was and how he’d love to get in her pants. She knew he’d told her that because he wanted to make her jealous, wanted to hurt her. The only time he had ever said sweet things to her was when he was softening her up for the kill. That’s how she had thought of sex with Jake. Each time he touched her, each time he buried himself inside her, she died a little. By the time she’d murdered Jake, she was totally dead inside, her uterus empty, her emotions frozen, her future destroyed. That’s why she’d been able to kill Jake so easily, without any regrets. It had been all his fault. If he hadn’t ruined her so completely, she wouldn’t have…

Killing Mandy would take cunning. And intricate planning. She would be cautious. Waiting. Expecting. Anticipating the worst.

That’s all right. Let her be on guard. I simply have to devise a plan that will enable me to take her by surprise, to sneak up on her blind side.

She has a toddler whom she adores. Perhaps I can use little Emily Stulz in some way to lure Mandy into a trap.

A deep rumble of laughter fluttered up from her diaphragm and erupted into deliriously happy giggles. She had them all running scared. Each of them would be looking over her shoulder all the time, waiting for the unknown killer to strike.

Even wiseass policewoman Rachel Alsace had no idea who was marked for death, who the next victim would be.

But you have to know that you’re on my list. You, Kristen, and Lindsay. The ones who loved Jake the most.

Rachel had to admit that the following day when she arrived at 1111 SW Second Avenue and went to her desk in the corner of the squad room, she had hoped to see Dean. When she hadn’t caught even a glimpse of him by two that afternoon, she had begun to think he was avoiding her. Then when she was absorbed in looking over the photos from the Cupid Killer crime scene, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and yelped at the same time.

“Sorry,” Dean said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Exhaling a calming, relieved breath, Rachel swivelled around to face him. “Next time, blow a whistle or something.” She laid the photos aside.

Dean sat on the edge of her desk and glanced at the glossy prints. He fingered them, separating the top two, one a full shot of Jake from head to toe, his body pinned against the oak tree by a crossbow arrow, the other a photo of the bow, found at the scene.

“Nasty stuff,” Dean said.

Rachel nodded. “You know, back then all of us suspected one another. Crazy, huh? We were all a bunch of kids who knew nothing about crossbows. And it’s not as if St. Lizzy’s or Western or Washington High offered archery classes.”

“Yeah, it never entered our minds back then that it would take an expert with a bow to hit a guy dead center in the heart and pin him to a tree.”

“Even if the person had been fairly close, they still would have had to know what they were doing. I can’t think of anyone in our circle of friends that would qualify.” Rachel spread the photos apart, placing them side by side atop her desk. “When I first read over the file, I started wondering if a woman would be strong enough to handle the rigid tension on a crossbow, but then I read where there’s some kind of lever on a crossbow that would enable just about anybody to cock it.”