It seemed to take a long time to get from the bed to the door. But even though she was weak, her head seemed much clearer now, clearer than it had been in a long time.
It was strange being down here on the rug, and Betty smiled as she crawled through the bedroom doorway and out into the living room. Here the rug was brown, a beautiful rich chocolate brown.
Betty giggled. Everything was very different from this vantage point. No wonder babies were always smiling! She crawled past the coffee table and past her swivel rocking chair. She’d never realized that the living room was so large before, and it seemed to take a long time to crawl the length of the room to the front door.
The front doorknob was too high. What should she do? Stand up, of course. She needed something to hold. Using a table by the door, Betty pulled herself up. Her hands seemed to recall the motions and she slipped off the chain, turned the knob, and opened the door to the empty hallway stretching out before her.
Betty took one step forward, then dropped back down to her knees. It would be faster, and she wouldn’t hurt herself if she fell. The stairwell seemed a very long way away.
TWENTY
Getting out of bed, Ellen pulled on an old pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, looked back at Walker, sleeping peacefully, and sighed. At least someone was getting some rest. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Laureen and Alan, crushed almost beyond recognition at the bottom of the elevator shaft.
She went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of hot chocolate and carried it into the workroom. She was so on edge, she doubted that anything could relax her except work and there was plenty of that. Walker had found the missing box of mannequin parts and there were still a half dozen to assemble.
As she walked past the big metal bin in the corner, she caught sight of the damaged mannequin inside. It had been returned from a store in Los Angeles and she’d saved it to use for spare parts since only the head was smashed. She shuddered as she stared down at it. Just like Alan and Laureen.
Chiding herself for being so morbid, Ellen lifted the mannequin up to her workbench. She’d take it apart, put all the pieces in the appropriate boxes, and throw the rest away.
She was removing the head when she noticed a thin film of white powder coating the inside surface. She used no powder in her molding process, only liquid plastics. Touching the top of her finger to her tongue, she noticed a bitter taste followed by a strange sensation.
Ellen gasped out loud as she realized that the powder could mean someone was using her mannequins to transport drugs. But no one touched those mannequins except her. And Walker . . . but it was disloyal to even think it. Still, there were all those new contracts he’d arranged, a whole distribution network that stretched across the country.
With a sinking heart, she went to the spare bedroom where he had stored his things. The backpack was there and she looked inside. Pajamas, toothbrush, a disposable razor, and . . . a gun. She forced herself to stand there and think calmly. Many people carried guns. It could be perfectly legal. But why had he brought it up here unless he intended to use it? Something else caught her eye, something glittering at the bottom of the backpack. She reached down to retrieve it, her hands starting to tremble as she recognized Vanessa’s diamond earring.
Calm. She had to stay calm. Walker had been with her the night Vanessa died, except when she sent him up to borrow a can of tomato sauce from Jayne. Had he been gone long enough to kill Vanessa and drag her down to the freezer?
She didn’t like the path her thoughts were taking her, but she couldn’t seem to stop them. He’d been up at the spa all alone the night that Clayton and Rachael had left. And he’d been gone again the night that Hal had died. What if all these awful accidents weren’t accidents at all? Tonight, while she’d soaked in a nice, relaxing bath, he would have had plenty of time to sabotage the elevator.
With her heart pounding so hard she was almost afraid it would wake him, Ellen tiptoed to her bedroom and peeked in. Still asleep. Then she turned and went out, blinking back tears of grief and fright. The man she’d been learning to love was a killer. She had to warn the others about him.
By the time they reached the sixth floor landing, Moira’s legs were trembling so hard she could barely stand. “I’m too old for this, Grace. I’ve got to rest a minute.” She stopped and leaned against the railing, struggling to catch her breath. Then her left leg suddenly folded beneath her and she dropped heavily to the floor. “Da . . . drat! I knew this was going to happen!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Charley horse, in my left leg. I don’t think I can stand on it.”
Grace climbed up the last step and joined Moira on the landing. “Give me your leg, Moira. I’ll rub it for you.”
As she kneaded the trembling muscle in Moira’s leg, Grace gave a defeated sigh. There was no way Moira’s rebelling muscles would make it any farther.
“I think it’s a little better, Grace.” The pain in Moira’s eyes belied her words. “Maybe I can lean on the railing and pull myself up.”
Grace shook her head. “You’ve got to rest or you’ll injure the muscle.”
Moira frowned and pulled herself to her feet in spite of Grace’s protests. She hobbled one step and turned to Grace with a stubborn expression. “There’s no time to rest. Come on, Grace. I think I can . . .” Moira stopped in midsentence as the door to the hallway began to open. “Oh, my God! It’s Betty!”
“Okay.” Jayne turned to a blank page in her music notebook. “Turn it on, Paul. I’m ready.”
Paul flicked the switch on the piano Johnny had given her, and the strange atonal music began to play. The melody had been bothering him ever since he’d heard it, and tonight he’d remembered the game his violin teacher had taught him, creating a melody from the letters in a name.
Jayne frowned as she transcribed the melody into musical notation. “The lower octave is normal and the upper ones follow the rest of the alphabet. Is that right, Paul?”
Paul nodded. “A through G are obvious. The letter H is high A, and the letter I is high B and so on.”
“This’ll take a minute.” Jayne turned back to her notebook. “I hope you’re right, Paul. Johnny’s song has been driving me crazy, too.”
Just then there was a knock on the door. Paul went to answer it and came back with Ellen.
“Ellie, honey. You look worse than a whipped puppy.” Jayne dropped her notebook and hurried to help Ellen into a chair. “What’s wrong?”
“I . . . I looked in the backpack and I found this!” Ellen drew the gun out of her pocket.
Jayne grabbed for the barrel and lowered it. “Careful with that thing! It might be loaded!”
“Of course it’s loaded.” Ellen started to laugh, but it came out as a sob. “He couldn’t kill us without the bullets, could he?”
“Whoa!” Jayne took the gun and handed it to Paul, then patted Ellen the way she’d calm a nervous filly. “Easy there, honey. Who couldn’t kill us?”
“Walker. He was using my mannequins to ship drugs. And then I found his gun and I . . . I took it.”
Paul frowned. It was difficult to believe that Walker had been dealing in drugs, but Ellen was clearly terrified. “You are safe now, Ellen. Where is Walker?”
“Still sleeping. But when he wakes up . . .”
The intercom buzzed, startling all three of them. Jayne hurried to answer it and when she came back, she looked dazed. “We’ve got to get down to Betty’s right away. Grace and Moira just found her crawling out in the hall.”