“You’re all right now, Betty.” Jayne held her hand. “Do you know where your nurse is?”
Betty frowned and tried to force out the word, but she was too exhausted to talk. She just knew she didn’t want to go back to sleep, not when the awful movies might start to play again. She had to find some way to tell them. But what was the word for what had happened to Nurse?
“Cold!” Betty frowned. That wasn’t right.
“Of course you are.” Moira reached for a blanket and covered Betty’s shoulders. “Your nurse is here, isn’t she?”
“Hot!” Betty nodded. That wasn’t the right word either, but it would have to do. Nurse was here. Right there in the bathroom with the door shut. And her secret friend had killed her.
“Jayne?” Paul came into the bedroom looking puzzled. “The nurse is not here in Betty’s apartment.”
“It’s three in the morning, for Pete’s sakes! Where could she be?”
“Hot!” Betty managed to get the word out again.
“Would you like a drink of water, Betty?” Grace did her best to understand.
Betty could feel her face light up in a smile as the dancer took a glass and opened the bathroom door. She flicked on the light and then she screamed, a much better scream than the ones Betty usually heard in the movies.
Jayne rushed to the bathroom to look and then she pulled Grace out by the arm. “Betty’s nurse is dead and that’s why she was out in the hall. She was trying to tell someone!”
“Do you know what happened to the nurse, Betty?” Paul leaned over to ask.
Betty nodded. She knew. But how could she tell them?
“Did your nurse have an accident?”
Betty shook her head. No, it wasn’t an accident, but she’d forgotten the word. She had to make them understand about the scary movies. It was terribly important, although she couldn’t remember why. Suddenly she had an idea and she reached for the remote control. If she couldn’t tell them, she could show them. She turned on the set and pressed the button for forbidden channel nine.
“That’s our living room.” Jayne blinked as she stared at the screen.
Paul nodded. “It a closed-circuit surveillance system. The monitors in the security office broke in the avalanche, but it still works here. Jack must have run a second cable up here and hooked it to Betty’s television set so he could keep an eye on things when he was visiting her.”
Betty switched to forbidden channel zero and used the outside camera that was focused on the hill. Would they recognize what it was?
“I see it, Betty.” Moira peered at the screen. “There’s something hidden behind that tree on the ridge. What is it?”
Betty frowned. She’d forgotten the word, but she knew the sound it made. “Brmmmmm!”
“The snowmobile!” Ellen gasped. “You’ve got to tell us, Betty! Do you know what happened to Clayton and Rachael?”
Betty nodded. She switched to forbidden channel five and pressed the control for the camera in the rose garden.
“That’s Darby’s rose garden.” Jayne identified the image on the screen. “And somebody’s been digging out there. See that loose dirt in the back?”
Grace began to shiver as she stared at the screen. “It looks like a . . . a grave.”
Betty frowned in concentration. They almost had the connection. And then she remembered the word that would explain everything.
“Murder!” she said, as she zoomed in on the grave.
Jayne helped to push the snowmobile up to the top of the ridge. There were tears on her cheeks and the bitter wind turned them into streaks of icy cold.
Paul gave her arm a squeeze. “Just a little farther, Jayne. We can make it.”
“I still don’t think we should have left them.” Jayne wiped her cheeks with her mitten and bent down to push again. The nurse’s boots were a size too small, but they hadn’t dared run upstairs for their own. Paul was wearing the nurse’s parka, which had a hood. And she had Betty’s mink coat and a woolen scarf.
“They told us to go,” Paul reassured her. “I have knowledge of this snowmobile.”
“But what if Walker finds them? They’ll be trapped up there!”
“We will be back with the police in less than an hour.” Paul swore in Norwegian as the snowmobile hung up on the drift. “Push, Jayne.”
Jayne dug her heels in and they heaved at the heavy snowmobile until it had cleared the drift. It was tough going, and they had to reach the crest of the ravine to muffle the noise of starting it.
“We should have left the gun with them,” Jayne gasped, leaning against the back of the snowmobile.
“Grace went down to get her father’s gun and Moira is watching Walker on the surveillance camera. They will be fine provided we do our part. Push, Jayne; we are almost at the top.”
Jayne bent over to push again, but she knew Paul was just trying to make her feel better. They’d tried to look in Marc’s unit to make sure he was all right, but the rooms had all been deserted. And the blackout drapes at his bedroom windows were so effective, they hadn’t been able to see if he was in bed or not. Paul had risked running up one flight to ring his doorbell. They had to alert him and send him down to safety with the others, but no one had answered.
“Do you think Marc’s all right?”
“I do not know, honey.” Paul stopped to catch his breath. “There is no time to worry now. Are you ready to push once more?”
“I’m ready.” Jayne shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. Then she bent down again, trying to muster more muscle.
Paul smiled at her and Jayne did her best to smile back. Sneaking down the stairs had been harrowing, searching every shadow to make sure they weren’t being followed.
“This is enough.” Paul laid his hand on her arm. “Get on, honey.”
Jayne climbed on the snowmobile and held her breath as the engine roared into life. Thank God! She didn’t begin to breathe again until they were over the next ridge. Then she huddled close to Paul’s back and prayed they’d reach the police in time.
Grace held her breath as she unlocked the door, listening for the buzzing of the intercom. All was silent and she breathed a sigh of relief. They’d worked out a signal, Moira and Ellen would buzz her on the intercom if Walker moved.
Even though she’d always hated the sport in the past, Grace was finding herself grateful for her father’s hobby. He’d been quite a sportsman, going on safari in Africa, moose hunting in Canada, and fox hunting on a private estate in England. When she packed up his taxidermy shop, she’d sold most of the guns, but several were on the wall. Moira had insisted they lent a touch of authenticity to the room.
As she approached the door to the storage room, Grace couldn’t stifle an involuntary shudder. Moira had wanted to come down with her, but her leg was still sore and she might need her strength later. Grace held her breath as she pushed open the door. Moira had warned her not to turn on any lights that might cast a reflection on the snow outside the window. She clicked on her flashlight and forced herself to step inside, training the beam of light on the huge Kodiak bear. She knew she was being foolish, but she still wanted to make sure it didn’t move as she walked past it.
There was a gun on the wall next to the bear, but Grace knew it was an antique muzzle-loader. Her father had shown her a picture of a man measuring out black powder from a horn to load it.
Grace stopped and shined the beam around the room. The eyes of the black panther glittered and she stepped back a pace, nearly impaling herself on the horns of a gazelle. She had to stop being so childish and find a gun they could use.
A rifle hanging on the wall caught her eye, a hefty weapon dating back to the Civil War called a Springfield Trapdoor. Grace grabbed it, then hurried to the cabinet where her father had kept his supplies. It was a mammoth piece of furniture, made of solid mahogany, and Moira had insisted she keep it. Since her father had been an organized man, the hundreds of drawers were labeled neatly in his Spencerian script. Grace started at the top row and worked her way down. Screws. Nuts. Bolts. Wads. Grace pulled out that drawer. She thought she remembered her father saying something about wad-cutters once.