And then he turned back to Jean, who had inched her way slowly back against the wall. "Please, please..."

The modern chrome-finished wall clock chimed the midnight hour. Before the clock had struck six times, the next bullet hit Jean in the thigh, and by the ninth ring, the third bullet entered her chest. She slid down the wall and onto the floor, moaning and groaning, and taking her time to die.

Enough of this!

He walked across the room, stood over her, pressed the muzzle against her temple and said, "Dead by midnight." Then he fired the fatal shot.

Puff Raven was dead.

After glancing around at his handiwork, he slid the Glock back into his coat pocket and knelt down beside Jean. He took his time undressing her and discarding her b.l.o.o.d.y silk caftan. Beneath the single garment, she was naked except for an indecent orange lace thong. With the utmost care, he slid the string out from between her b.u.t.t cheeks and pulled the sc.r.a.p of cloth down her legs. He crushed the thong in his hand, brought it to his nose, and sniffed the musky scent of Puff Raven's p.u.s.s.y before stuffing the thong into his pocket.

Only one final touch was needed to complete the scene. He walked leisurely down the hall to the guest bedroom, picked up the beautiful mask, and returned to the living room. Once he had placed the mask over her face, he stood back and admired his handiwork.

Perfect.

Taking all the time he needed to do a thorough job, he went through the house, systematically wiping down or washing every item he had touched tonight. No need to take chances by leaving behind evidence that could be traced back to him. Not that he was a suspect, but it was best to err on the side of caution.

Once he had completed his clean-up ch.o.r.es, he went back to the bedroom, removed the plastic gloves, and tossed them and the tissue paper that had covered the mask into the suitcase, along with Jean's caftan. He picked up the suitcase and carried it with him when he left the Misners' fabulous Hollywood Hills mansion. Once outside, he tossed the suitcase into the backseat of his rental car and then slid behind the wheel. The locked gates opened automatically for vehicles exiting the premises, so he drove straight out onto the street and off into the night.

Chapter 32.

At 8:15 on the last Friday morning in April, Lila Newton received a phone call from Mr. Owens shortly after coming on duty at Green Willows. Yesterday, she had had debated whether or not to contact Terri Owens's daughter-in-law and explain the situation. They had been forced to keep Terri sedated all day. Each time she resurfaced from the effects of the medication, she quickly went from slightly agitated to almost hysterical. And since Terri couldn't speak coherently and her attempts to write looked like little more than hen scratches, the staff had no way of knowing what she was trying to tell them. Finally, Lila had telephoned Amelia Rose around 9:30 last night.

"I'll call Tyler and tell him what's happening and that his mother wants to see him. He's due home tomorrow evening anyway."

"I've never seen Miss Terri this way," Lila had said. "For the most part, she's usually cooperative, even docile. But ever since she found out that Mr. Tyler went out of town, she's been acting up."

When Lila took the phone call, she a.s.sumed it was Mr. Tyler calling to check on his mother, so when she heard Mr. Ransom's voice, it momentarily startled her.

"Lila? Lila, are you there?" Mr. Ransom asked.

"Yes, sir. Sorry. I...uh...I was told that a Mr. Owens was on the line and I expected it to be Mr. Tyler."

"Is there some reason you were expecting Tyler to call?"

Lila hated to tell Mr. Ransom over the phone, with him off on a research trip somewhere, about his ex-wife's condition. But he would want to know, and if Mr. Tyler couldn't get to the bottom of the problem when he came home this evening, maybe Mr. Ransom could.

"I had to call Amelia Rose last night. We had a time with Miss Terri all day yesterday, from the time she woke up. I've never seen her that way. The doctor examined her and didn't find any physical changes, so we a.s.sume it's something entirely emotional. She seems desperate to see Mr. Tyler."

"And you have no idea why she wants to see Tyler? She's been unable to communicate in any way?"

Lila sighed. "Well, she did smear grape jelly on the top of her over-bed table and tried to write Mr. Tyler's name with her finger. I believe she wants to tell him something that she thinks is important."

"And you have no idea what that might be?"

"No, sir, I don't."

"It's possible that she's dreamed up something in her mind or she's blown a minor problem out of proportion. After all, she hasn't been herself since the stroke. Naturally, the best course of action is to keep her sedated for the time being. Has Tyler been in to see her?"

"Mr. Tyler is out of town."

"Is he?"

"He's due home this evening."

"Lila, would you please do me a favor?'

"Yes, certainly, Mr. Ransom."

"Keep a close eye on Terri when Tyler visits her and let me know what transpires between them. I wouldn't ask, but since Tyler refuses to even speak to me, I-I..."

"Don't you worry. I'll be real discreet, but you can count on me to watch over Miss Terri."

"Thank you. And I'll do my best to return to Danville in time for my morning visit with Terri tomorrow."

After her conversation with Mr. Ransom, Lila made her morning rounds, all the while thinking how sad it was that Mr. Ransom and Mr. Tyler were estranged the way they were. Despite their father/son differences, they both loved Terri, and were both devoted to her. Why, she didn't know. The woman certainly didn't deserve their love or devotion.

Jack arrived at Lorie's house a little after ten that Friday morning. When Mike opened the door, he could tell by the look on his deputy's face that he was bringing bad news.

"Where's Lorie?" Jack asked.

"In the shower," Mike said. "She slept late this morning. I don't think she got much sleep last night."

"I just got off the phone with Hicks Wainwright."

"And?"

"He's struck again. Last night. Out in LA."

"The Midnight Killer?"

"Yeah. When their housekeeper arrived at six this morning, she found a b.l.o.o.d.y ma.s.sacre at Jean and Jeff Misner's home in Hollywood Hills."

"Jean Goins Misner."

Jack nodded. "Also known as Puff Raven."

"I thought she had two around-the-clock bodyguards."

"He killed both guards, probably first, and then the Misners. Shot all four of them repeatedly. He followed his usual routine. He stripped Jean Misner and put a mask on her face after he killed her."

A loud gasp from behind them alerted Mike to the fact that Lorie had overheard Jack's last statement.

She stood a few feet away, dressed in faded jeans and a white pullover and with her damp hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. "Jean's been killed? But it's still April. He wasn't supposed to strike again until May."

"Derek warned us that he might begin escalating the kills," Jack reminded her. "Killing again before May indicates that he's altering his MO, at least to some extent."

"There are only two of us left," Lorie said. "Terri and me."

"But he probably doesn't know that. It's unlikely that he's found out Charlene Strickland and Sonny Deguzman are already dead." Mike reached out, put his arm around her, and pulled her to his side. What could he say or do to make this easier for her? He wanted to comfort her, but how? He felt helpless.

"Wainwright has contacted the rehab center where Terri Owens is recuperating," Jack said. "He been in touch with her daughter-in-law. Everything possible will be done to protect her. And we're going to keep you safe."

She jerked away from Mike. "You have to leave. You can't stay here. He'll kill you if you stay."

"That's nonsense," Mike told her. "If he comes after you-"

"When, not if," Lorie said. "When he comes after me, he'll kill anyone who gets in his way." She shook her head. "I am not going to let you risk your life for me."

"Honey..." Mike held out his hands, wanting to pull her into his arms, but when he saw the stricken look on her face, he didn't touch her. "Listen to me."

She kept shaking her head. "Jean had two bodyguards and he killed both of them. How did that happen? How could he have gotten past all that security?"

"I don't know," Mike admitted.

"Wainwright got a call from the LAPD," Jack said. "He called me from the airport. He's on his way to LA by now. Our conversation was brief because he was in a hurry. I got in touch with Maleah on my way over here. She'll share the info with the Powells and Derek. Maybe he can come up with an explanation of how a woman who was supposedly surrounded by the best security money can buy is now dead."

While preparing for dinner out with her husband, Renee Leroy turned on the small TV in her dressing room in order to catch the evening news. Tonight they were dining with the Bellamys, an older couple completely devoted to the Redeemer Church and two of their biggest contributors. Celia and Earl were sweet people, but so boring. All he talked about were his horses and his golf game. And Celia seemed to be interested in only one thing-her six grandchildren. Renee knew the Bellamy grandchildren's names and ages and had looked at countless photo alb.u.ms filled with their pictures.

Renee slipped into her calf-length navy silk sleeveless dress. As she removed the matching jacket from the pink padded hanger, the TV announcer's last comment caught her attention.

"We go now to Los Angeles where the FBI and the LAPD will be issuing a joint statement concerning the murder of adult film star Jean Goins Misner, aka Puff Raven, wife of producer Jeff Misner."

The navy jacket dropped from Renee's hand. She stared at the small screen as two men stood in front of a crowd of reporters. The camera scanned from one man to the other. Their ident.i.ties appeared in print at the bottom of the screen. One was the LAPD chief of police and the other was FBI Special Agent Hicks Wainwright.

The police chief made a brief statement, giving only the basic information that the bodies of Jean Goins Misner, her husband, and two bodyguards were found by the Misners' housekeeper at approximately 6:00 A.M A.M. that morning.

Using the house intercom, Renee called Grant, who had gone down to his study a few minutes ago. "Grant, are you there?"

"Yes, darling, what is it? You sound upset."

"Turn on the TV," Renee told him. "They're making an announcement about Jean and Jeff Misner. They've been murdered."

"Dear G.o.d in heaven. He's killed another one."

"Watch it," Renee said. "We'll talk later."

Renee sat at her vanity table, her gaze fixed on the TV, and listened while Special Agent Wainwright told the world that the FBI suspected the Midnight Killer was responsible for the murders, that Jean Goins was the fifth actor who had starred in the p.o.r.no movie Midnight Masquerade Midnight Masquerade to be killed. to be killed.

Renee wondered if Grant should call Heath to let him know. He had voiced his concerns about his father's welfare the moment the news first came out about the Midnight Killer. After all, Grant had been the director, and even though so far only actors had been killed, who was to say when that maniac would move on to others with any type of connection to the movie?

If he thought it necessary, Grant would contact Heath. She certainly had no intention of calling him. Although she and her stepson had never had a cross word, they had, until recently, given each other a wide birth. Both knew they were important to Grant and his ministry and accepted their unique places in his life and in his Christian organization.

But if there was one thing Renee knew a lot about, it was men. And her instincts warned her about Heath. She knew he was infatuated with her, and despite being flattered and admittedly having flirted a bit with the boy, she had become concerned about his unhealthy interest in her. Ever since he had walked in on her and Grant making love, he'd been acting weird. Well, weirder than usual. Heath always had been a bit of an oddball. His preoccupation with his father's past-what he referred to as Dad's days of debauchery and depravity-seemed unnatural to her. Yes, Grant had publicly condemned his former lifestyle, but he didn't dwell on it in his sermons or in his private life. He had put his past behind him, mentioning it only when he used it as an example of how anyone could, through the Lord Jesus Christ and His ultimate sacrifice to save all mankind, find salvation and forgiveness.

But Heath often seemed obsessed with the p.o.r.no business and its effect on decent people. On more than one occasion, she had heard him raving to his father about how he wished he had the power to remove all such wickedness from the world. When she had spoken to Grant about Heath's fixation on how evil p.o.r.no movies were, he had dismissed it as nothing more than his son's zealous dedication to Christ and the Redeemer Church. So she had tried to convince herself that her husband knew his son far better than she did. And when the thought had crossed her mind that perhaps Heath was the Midnight Killer, she had immediately dismissed the idea as ludicrous.

Her doubts about her stepson's mental stability were one thing, but to suspect him of cold-blooded murder was something else entirely.

Just because he had been out of town the past few days and a new murder had taken place didn't mean he was the killer.

But was it simply a coincidence that Heath had also been out of town when Shontee Thomas had been murdered?

Yes, it was a coincidence. It had to be. She refused to think otherwise.

I am not going to do anything with my suspicions except forget them. I will not dig into Heath's travel records since the first of the year. I will not!

Tyler Owens arrived at the Green Willows Rehabilitation and Convalescence Center shortly before seven that evening. He had not stopped by the nurses' station on his way to his mother's room, but Lila had caught a glimpse of him as he hurriedly pa.s.sed by. By the time she caught up with him, he had already gone into Terri's room and closed the door. As a general rule, she would never intrude on a family member's visit, but she had promised Mr. Ransom that she would keep close tabs on Miss Terri. Glancing right, left, and behind her, Lila grasped the handle and cracked open the door a couple of inches, just enough so that she could see into the room and could hear what Mr. Tyler was saying.

He leaned down and kissed his mother's cheek. Still mildly sedated, Terri opened her heavy eyelids and glanced up at her son. She stared at him for the longest time, but made no attempt to speak.

"I hear you've been giving the nurses a difficult time," Tyler said. "I wish we knew what was wrong, why you've been so upset."

A peculiar shiver shimmed up Lila's spine when she saw Tyler smile as he took his mother's frail right hand and squeezed it tightly. Terri moaned as if she were in pain. "You mustn't be difficult, dear. When you allow yourself to become so agitated, they have no choice but to sedate you." He held her hand tightly. "And no more of this smearing jelly on your table and trying to write in the jelly. Promise?"

Terri nodded.

"That's my good girl." Tyler released her hand and laid it back at her side.

"Amelia Rose called me while I was out of town to tell me that Ms. Newton had contacted her and told her you were acting up and wanted to see me." He pulled up a chair and sat by her bed. "I'm here, Mother. But unfortunately you can't tell me why you wanted to see me, can you?"

"Mur...mur...da."

Tyler tensed. "What was that?"

"Mur...da."

"Well, listen to you. You did manage to say a word, didn't you."

Terri patted her chest and then pointed to him.