“Then we either have two killers on our hands or…”

“Or we have a man disguising his voice and himself as a woman.”

“Or we have a couple working together or-”

“Okay, let’s say the killer isn’t a woman. What if he was one of the guys at Western Catholic or Washington High?”

“We need to go with the most likely scenario instead of creating a new and less likely one,” Dean told her. “And remember that the person wearing disguises who you think has been stalking you is female. The person who ordered the lilies was female. And all of you think the person making the threatening calls is female. The most logical conclusion is that whoever killed Jake is not our present-day killer.”

“I know. I know. It seems the more information we have, the more confused things are. And so much boils down to the fact that I just can’t picture one of the old gang as a cold-blooded killer.”

“I don’t like the idea any better than you do that one of them is capable of murder, but what few concrete facts we have tell me that we need to concentrate on the reunion committee members.”

“I guess that rules out our doing a further investigation into the possibility that Marilyn or Patrick Dewey might have killed Jake.”

“I didn’t say we should rule out anyone. But motivation is the key factor-in Jake’s murder and in the recent murders. Patrick Dewey is dead, so he can’t be our killer. And why would Marilyn Dewey be killing women she doesn’t even know?”

“God, I am so frustrated!” Rachel admitted quite vehemently. “And I feel so helpless. I should be able to do something to stop these murders now, before someone else has to die.”

“I suppose your dad felt frustrated and hopeless when he couldn’t come up with a viable suspect in Jake’s murder. Even those of us in law enforcement can do only so much. If the evidence isn’t there-”

“It’s there,” Rachel told him. “Damn it, it’s there. We just can’t see it!”

When Kristen and Ross dropped Martina at her house that evening, Ross insisted on walking Martina to her door. And she was grateful for his gentlemanly escort. It wasn’t that she was scared, not exactly. Just unnerved.

A lot of that going around lately, she thought as she inserted the key in the lock of her front door, heard the distinct click, and turned around to wave good night to Kristen and her husband. If she weren’t all alone this week, with Craig out of town on business and the kids away at summer camp, she wouldn’t dread entering her own home. Craig hadn’t wanted to leave, but the trip had been planned weeks ago, before Mandy’s murder. Martina had insisted that he go, reassuring him that she would be fine for the few days he’d be gone.

She shouldn’t be so silly. No one could get inside her house. Not with sturdy locks on all the windows and doors. Not with a security system in place.

As soon as she entered the foyer, she tapped the code into the keypad to disarm the security system, then hurriedly locked the door behind her. Releasing a relieved breath, she walked down the hall and into the kitchen. She had left a table lamp on in the foyer and the over-the-sink fluorescent on in the kitchen.

Using the handy step stool she kept in the pantry, Martina stood on it to reach an upper cupboard. After retrieving the box of candy she kept out of sight and hopefully out of mind, she set the box on the counter, opened it, and chose a piece of caramel nougat.

She knew she shouldn’t be indulging this way, but food was her drug of choice. Always had been. That’s why now, twenty years after high school, she was fifty pounds heavier.

She shouldn’t be doing this. She had stayed on her diet for two months now and lost fifteen pounds so she would look good at the reunion.

But with all that had happened lately-the deaths of three old friends and the constant threat that she or another friend was next-Martina needed the consolation that only candy could give her. If she drank, she’d be downing a glass of whiskey right now. If she smoked, she’d be puffing away on a cancer stick.

Attending the funeral of a dear old friend was reason enough for her to turn to the habitual crutch she could count on for comfort. Food. Especially candy.

Just as she was swallowing the last bite of the sweet concoction, the phone rang.

Startled, Martina cried out and threw her hands up and over her mouth.

Get a grip. It’s just the phone. Yes, but what if it’s “her”?

But what if it’s Craig?

She checked the caller ID. Portland. No name.

Damn!

Just don’t answer it.

The phone rang ten times, then stopped.

Martina popped another piece of candy into her mouth, then picked up the box and headed for the den.

The phone rang again.

Unnerved, her hands trembling, she dropped the box and the candy fell haphazardly all over the kitchen floor. Leaving the scattered pieces where they were, she checked the caller ID.

Portland. No name.

The phone rang ten times. Silence. Immediately, it rang again. Ten times. Silence. Then it rang again.

Martina held her hands over her ears. Stop calling me!

When the ringing continued, driving her crazy, she finally jerked the portable phone off its base and screamed, “Leave me alone!”

Laughter.

The person on the other end of the line was laughing at her.

“What’s wrong, Martina?” the disguised voice asked. “Are you upset that you’ve blown your diet by eating candy?”

“What! How did you know?” Martina rushed to the windows over the sink and peered out into the darkness.

“You should have answered on the first ring. That way, you wouldn’t have spilled your candy all over the floor.”

Oh, God! She’s out there, watching me. Looking in the window.

But Martina couldn’t see anyone. Just the empty driveway, the basketball hoop attached to the front of the garage, and her youngest child’s old bicycle.

“You can’t see me, but I can see you,” the voice taunted.

Martina hung up the phone and immediately dialed Rachel’s cell number. The minute Rachel answered, Martina spoke rapidly, fear in her voice. “She’s here. At my house. Outside watching me. Please, help me!”

Rachel assured Martina that she and Dean were on their way. Martina hung up the phone, then hurriedly punched in the code and Stay on the security keypad beside the back door.

There. She felt safer. If anyone tried to break into the house, the alarm would go off.

The phone rang.

Martina screamed.

The phone kept ringing. Over and over and over again.

Martina slumped down onto the floor, sitting in the middle of the scattered pieces of candy, and hugged herself as she rocked back and forth.

I’m safe. No one can get inside my house. No one can hurt me.

The phone continued ringing.

Rachel helped Kristen and Ross put Martina in their car.

“Go home with Kris,” Rachel said. “You’ll be safe there. Dean and I will take care of things here.”

As soon as she had received Martina’s desperate call for help, Rachel had phoned for police backup, and the closest squad car to Martina’s home had been sent out. Then she had phoned Kristen and asked that she and Ross meet them at Martina’s.

“She’s going to need a place to stay tonight,” Rachel had said. “And I want you to get in touch with Craig and tell him to come home, that his wife needs him.”

Martina slid into the backseat of Kristen’s car, then reached out and grabbed Rachel’s arm. “She was here. In my yard. Looking through the window. Find her, Rach. Find her and stop her before she kills again.”

Rachel grabbed Martina’s hand and squeezed hard. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

Ross shut the door, closing Martina safely inside, then he turned to Rachel. “We’ll take care of her and get in touch with her husband, tonight if possible.”