"I think it's the fireplace," Carrie said. She paused on a step to look down into the living room once again. "Did you ever see the movie North by Northwest It starred Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint, and in the climax, they had to climb out on the presidents' faces?"
"I do remember. The stone fireplace is very like the one in the movie. That must be why it seems so familiar to me."
"I never saw the movie," Anne said.
Carrie was floored. "You've got to be kidding. It was one of Hitchcock's best."
Anne shrugged. "I was busy running my business," she said. "I didn't have time to go to movies."
"But it's a classic. It's been on television at least a hundred times," Sara said.
"Oh, I never watch television."
Carrie didn't know how to relate to the woman. Anne sounded as though she were boasting about the fact that she didn't watch television. Carrie's life revolved around networks and sponsors. She looked up at Anne now as if she were an alien. Not watch television or go to the movies? Amazing. No wonder the woman was so dull.
She didn't feel at all guilty about her snap judgment. Anne, unknowingly, had just insulted everything that Carrie worked for or believed in.
Monk showed Sara into her suite first.
"I think I'm going to call it a night," Sara said. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Good night," Carrie called as she followed Monk down the long hallway.
He opened Anne's door for her, and then turned to Carrie. "Your suite is directly above Judge Collins's," he said. He led her up
the staircase to the next level.
"So there are four full suites?" Carrie asked.
"Yes," he answered.
They reached her door, and Monk stepped back to let her go inside. The large bedroom with an adjoining sitting room was a soothing amber color. Two overstuffed chairs flanked a fireplace, and the four-poster bed made of light, burled pine was
covered with a thick down comforter.
She yawned loudly. Monk or one of the maids had laid out her robe and gown on the bed. She spotted her carry-on on the
luggage rack. It was open and empty, and she was going to ask where her laptop was, but then a wave of nausea and dizziness struck, and she had to sit down. She took several deep breaths as she held on to the bedpost.
"Is everything all right, Mrs. Salvetti?"
She didn't want to be difficult or complain the way Anne did, and so she simply said that she was weary from the long day. "I'm usually a night owl, and I don't go to bed until two or three in the morning, but tonight I can barely keep my eyes open."
Monk's expression was sympathetic. "It takes a while to get used to the mountain air, and the staff from the spa did suggest that all of you have an early night. Tomorrow promises to be quite busy."
"Yes, I'm sure it will be."
"I'll be the last to retire," he said as he walked to the door. "I'll set the alarm then. Please remember not to open any windows."
"What happens if the alarm goes off? Who will hear it?" she asked. "We're out in the middle of nowhere."
"The alarm is electronically connected to the spa. I thought I had mentioned that before. Should we need it, help will arrive in
less than three minutes."
"The spa's that close?"
He nodded. "If it weren't for the trees, you'd be able to see the domes from your window. Would you like me to close the drapes?"
"No. I prefer them open." She turned away, gripping the bedpost now as the bile came rushing up into her throat. She was going
to ask him where the servant quarters were located, but her throat burned too much to get the question out.
"Good night," she said. "Close the door behind you, please."
The second she heard the door click shut, she bolted from the bed and ran into the bathroom, one hand covering her mouth. She barely got the lid up in time before she threw up the canape she'd eaten. The damn car sickness. She'd had the problem since she was a child. She should have spoken up and explained she couldn't sit in the backseat. Worried what the others would think of her, she hadn't said a word.
What the hell was the matter with her? What did she care what strangers thought about her? She would probably never see them again after breakfast.
Her stomach heaved at the thought of food. She hadn't felt this ill in years, not since that horrid case of food poisoning. Avery was fourteen at the time, and she'd stayed home from school to help take care of Carrie. Tony had been a real gem back then too. She remembered how he'd held her when the chills got so bad.
Carrie felt too weak to take a shower. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and put on her nightgown. She stumbled back into the bedroom, heard the clinking of glasses, and assumed that Monk was cleaning up. Then she heard a woman's laughter. Was the maid flirting with him? Might as well, she thought. There wasn't anything else for them to do, since she and Anne and Sara were already going to bed. My heavens, it wasn't even nine o'clock yet, and she was so exhausted, she could barely focus.
The room kept spinning. God, she felt awful. She fell into bed, struggled to get the covers up, and tried resting on her side. The nausea was still coming in waves. She slowly, carefully rolled onto her back. That was better, much better. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.
She didn't know how long she'd slept, but it was dark in the room when she heard someone faintly calling out to her. She couldn't respond. Then she heard a clicking sound over and over. No, the noise was snapping, like fingers coming together, or clinking, like knives being sharpened. Carrie couldn't understand why the noise wouldn't stop.
Someone nudged her shoulder, calling her name again.
She couldn't summon the strength to open her eyes. "Yes?" she whispered.
"Carrie."
"Yes?"
The noise made it difficult for her to concentrate. And, oh, she was so sleepy. She tried but couldn't even raise her hand to cover her eyes when a light went on.
"Go away," she said, her voice a croak.
"I heard your toast, Carrie. Do you remember what you said?"
"No…"
"May all your dreams come true. But what about your nightmares? Those come true too."
The words weren't making any sense. "What? Nightmares? No… no nightmares."
"Open your eyes, Carrie."
The sound was getting louder. "Come on. Look at me.
The voice floating above her became more demanding, more menacing. Carrie was finally able to open her eyes a little. She saw the scissors opening and closing in front of her face. They were shiny. That was the snapping noise, she realized. But why were there scissors?
And then the noise stopped, and the scissors vanished. A face appeared just inches above her own, and that smile, that hideous, gloating smile that was hor-rifically familiar.
She tried to scream. "No… no… no… oh, my God, help me… no… Jilly."
Chapter 5
Avery lost track of the time. She was frantic to get as much work done as possible before she had to leave for the airport. Her desk had been clear when she'd left the night before. She'd gotten to the office at six-thirty that morning just so everything would be caught up.
She was so bleary-eyed now she could barely focus on her computer screen. And doing a slow burn. Someone, she didn't know who the culprit was, had dumped twenty-two files on her desk, and she was expected to transfer all the information into the database. She also had at least sixty e-mails to read and answer, and she hadn't remembered to check her private voice mail in over twenty-four hours.
Her cubicle still looked like a cyclone had hit. The files seemed to be multiplying, and how was that possible?
"Aren't you supposed to be on a plane?" Margo asked. She was juggling a stack of files, her empty water bottle, and a doughnut box.