Reaching for his key, Walker paused at the door for a moment. Part of him wished that Ellen would be awake again tonight, waiting up for him. No one had cared about what time he came home since Cheryl and Jenny had died. On the other side of the coin, she might get suspicious if she realized that he’d been out two nights in a row. Then she’d start asking questions and that could be very dangerous for her.
Ellen glanced at the clock. It was three-thirty in the morning and Walker was gone again. She sighed and turned back to the eight-month-old issue of Newsweek she’d bought for the article about Justin Holmes, an artist who made life-size dolls in New York. She hadn’t bothered to read the rest of the magazine and now the news was too stale to hold much interest.
Even though she tried not to think about it, Ellen’s mind turned to Vanessa. The thought of anyone trapped in a cold, dark place, bleeding to death all alone, was horrible. Ellen put the magazine back on the table and got up to pace across the floor. She’d give Walker another ten minutes before going up to the spa to look for him. She needed some company tonight to take her mind off the nightmare that had shaken her screaming from her bed, a recurrence of the graveyard dream she’d had last night. The only difference was that tonight’s version had gone on longer.
Again, the hand from the grave had reached up to pull her down, and although she’d dug her fingers into the grass until her hands bled with the effort, it had dragged her down to lie in the damp, cold earth. Then something had embraced her there in the frigid ground, something cold and repulsive and evil. She’d been powerless to resist while it probed and fondled the most intimate recesses of her unwilling body, leaching the warmth from her flesh until she’d been waxen and paralyzed. Then, satisfied, it had given a maniacal shriek. And she had opened her eyes to see two people standing at the edge of the grave, watching her violation. She’d screamed so loud it had jolted her from the awful nightmare, but not before she’d recognized Vanessa and Johnny, laughing down at her.
Now that the dream had run its course, its message was obvious. Her experience with Johnny had been even more traumatic than she’d realized. And even though she’d vowed not to trust any man again, the nightmare still roused its ugly head whenever she’d had a troubling day.
After she’d hired Walker, it had stopped for a while, but now it was back with a vengeance. Was it because she was beginning to rely on Walker? If that was the case, she’d have to be very careful to see it went no further.
Ellen walked across the room and confronted her image, the same old Ellen in the mirror, skinny as a stick and about as alluring as a wet dishrag. At the sound of a key in the lock, she raced back to the couch, picked up the magazine again, and flipped it open. She didn’t want Walker to think she’d been waiting up just for him.
Walker looked startled to see her sitting up, two nights in a row. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t sleep again?”
Ellen shrugged off his question. “I got up to make a sandwich. Then I didn’t feel like going back to bed.”
“Want to go up to the Jacuzzi? It’s beautiful again tonight.” Walker gave her a smile that made her heart beat faster and Ellen smiled back. So that’s where he’d been all this time!
“No, thanks, Walker. My bathing suit’s still damp from last night.”
“Probably for the best. We’d have to be too quiet, anyway. Alan and Laureen are up there, camping out on the lounge chairs. The freezer must have gotten to them.”
“I can understand that! I certainly wouldn’t want to sleep right next to . . .” Ellen stopped and shivered.
“Me neither. How about a walk? It’s not that cold, and the snow’s stopped falling.”
“Great.” Ellen got to her feet. “We’ve been cooped up inside since the avalanche hit. Just let me get my parka.”
Walker glanced down at her feet and his grin got wider. “Better put on your boots, too. I don’t care if you go out in your nightgown and robe, but I don’t think those bunny slippers are snowproof.”
“Wake up, Paul. I need you!”
Paul opened his eyes to find Jayne leaning over him. He pulled her down and tried to kiss her, but she shook her head.
“Not that. At least not right now. Are you awake?”
Paul sat up and yawned. “I am awake. What is it, Jayne?”
“I know what was wrong at Clayton and Rachael’s. I finally figured it out.”
“Tell me.” Paul reached out for her hand. It was ice cold.
“Rachael didn’t take her fur hat, the one she always wore to keep her ears warm. She told me she got terrible earaches if she didn’t wear it.”
“Rachael may have had two hats. I would take the precaution of buying an additional, if I were that sensitive to the cold. I think you are mortgaging trouble, Jayne.”
“Borrowing trouble.” Jayne flipped over on her stomach so her voice was muffled by the pillow. “I guess you’re right. It just bothered me, that’s all. Will you rub my back, honey? I missed your back rubs more than a greenhorn misses targets.”
Paul straddled her body and began to massage her back, trying not to think of the other enjoyable things they could be doing in this very same position. He wasn’t successful, but Jayne relaxed at last and he continued to rub until her breathing was deep and regular and he was sure she was asleep. Then he covered her with the blankets and slid over to sit on the edge of the bed. Now he was wide-awake, wishing he’d given in to his impulse. Jayne would have welcomed him, he was sure, but he didn’t have the heart to wake her. Had Rachael owned two fur hats? The only person who could tell them was Rachael, herself.
Paul got up and walked to the window, where he had an unobstructed view of the pine grove below. The moon, a bright silver sphere in the dark velvet sky, sparkled like gemstones on the smooth sheet of unbroken snow. He smiled as he recognized Ellen and Walker out for a midnight stroll.
As he watched, Walker took Ellen’s arm to help her over an icy patch of ground, and Paul was pleased that Ellen didn’t pull away. He thought back to the first time he’d met Ellen, right after she’d moved into Charlotte and Lyle’s apartment. Painfully shy, she’d been friendly enough when she met her neighbors in the hall, but Johnny had been the only one she’d really talked to.
Jayne had made the effort, inviting her to their brunches and parties, and by the end of the first year, they’d been playing tennis every morning, Jayne and Paul against Ellen and Johnny. Ellen had turned out to be a natural on the tennis court. Tall and built for speed, she was amazingly agile and her backhand was dynamite.
Then the tennis had tapered off as the mannequin business had gone into production. Jayne had come home one day, awed by her first glimpse of Ellen’s mannequin, so Paul had gone to see the prototype for himself, and had barely been able to believe his eyes.
The skin tone was wonderful, but he’d been much more impressed with Ellen’s design. How had she come up with those wonderfully neutral yet expressive features? And the pliable body that could be arranged in any of a thousand incredibly natural positions?
They’d sat there sipping the champagne they’d brought and Ellen had shrugged off his praises. It had been pure luck, a pigment she’d mixed by accident while she was in college. Paul had sighed as he’d congratulated her, exasperated that Ellen didn’t recognize her own talent.
One night, a few months later when they’d driven down to Vegas for a night on the town, they’d seen Ellen and Johnny in a restaurant. Jayne and Paul had been seated in another room, but a lattice room divider gave them a clear view of Ellen and Johnny’s table. There had been only one word for the expression on Ellen’s face and that meant trouble. Jayne and he both knew Johnny’s reputation.