Wicked (17 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Beth gave an unhappy sigh as she sat on the couch with Dean. “I still think Eve should have told us they changed their minds and she was going outside with Ryan.”

“You're right. I'm glad Angela came up to tell us. It was funny about the ketchup, wasn't it?”

Beth laughed. “I never dreamed that Angela was the type to scream when she saw a mouse. And I still can't believe she got so scared, she dropped the ketchup bottle and climbed down the fire escape to get away.”

“It's pretty incredible.” Dean laughed, too. “Did she tell you why she had a ketchup bottle in her room?”

“For her sandwich. Angela's got some weird eating habits. I wouldn't put ketchup on a tuna fish sandwich, would you?”

Dean shook his head. “Not on a bet! Mustard maybe, but definitely not ketchup. Did Angela say how long they'd be working out there?”

“Not exactly, but it's going to take a while.”

“Maybe we should give that mouse a medal.” Dean started to laugh. “If Angela hadn't climbed down the fire escape, we wouldn't have known about those clogged courtyard drains, and the whole house could have flooded.”

“That's true. I feel kind of guilty about not helping, but Angela said to stay here and keep the fire going. They'll all need to warm up when they come in.”

“I think we got the best job.” Dean put his arm around Beth's shoulders. “At least we're not out there in the rain, getting soaked.”

“I just thought of something. Angela wasn't wet when she came up to tell us they were all outside. Even her hair was dry.”

“She probably had a raincoat.” Dean pulled Beth a little closer. “Stop borrowing trouble, Beth. Everything's going to be just fine.”

* * *

The younger officer made a dash to unlock the door and held it open so his partner could enter. They were both dripping wet, but they were still smiling.

“How did you know what to do with that cat?” The younger officer hung up his jacket to dry and plopped down in his desk chair.

“My sister used to have a cat that climbed trees. When the girls said it'd been up there all day, I figured a bowl of food would do the trick.”

“I guess that's all the excitement we're going to get for the night. We rescued the cat, bedded down the homeless guy in the gym, and fed Professor Ryskind's rats.”

“Oh, I don't know about that.” His partner motioned toward the fax machine. “Better check the fax that came in right before we left. Maybe we've got a serial killer on the loose.”

“Right.” The younger officer got up and walked to the fax machine. “The chief probably wants us to write out reports in triplicate instead of dupli . . . oh my God!”

“What is it?”

“It's from someone named Ryan Young at the Sutler Mansion. He says they've got five homicides over there!”

* * *

Eve held her breath as she heard another door close. Angela had checked three rooms and now she was heading straight for Ryan's. The doorknob rattled, and there was a muffled exclamation. And then Eve heard Angela's laugh.

“I've got you now, Eve!” Angela's voice was a hissing whisper. “You can't hide from Wicked!”

Eve shuddered. Angela was insane. That much was very clear. She was a classic case of a split personality, the kind that Eve had only read about. Wicked was the bad side, the violent side. And Wicked was out. Somehow, she had to bring Angela back.

“Angela?” Eve called out. “Where are you, Angela?”

There was silence from the other side of the door. And then a sweet, calm voice spoke. “Eve? What are you doing in Ryan's room?”

It was Angela. Eve breathed a sigh of relief. “I'm just sitting here thinking. Why don't you go down and make us both a cup of hot chocolate? When you come back up, we'll talk for a while.”

“Yes. I can do that. Come with me, Eve. I don't want to be alone.”

Eve was about to open the door when she reconsidered. Was this really Angela? There was only one way to tell. Eve knelt down and looked through the keyhole.

Just then another flash of lightning cut across the sky. It illuminated the hallway, and Eve gasped as she saw Angela's face. Angela was beautiful, but the creature who stood outside the door had blazing eyes and a mouth twisted up like a silent scream. Wicked was imitating Angela's voice, and she had a knife in her hand!

“Angela? I need you now.” Eve stepped away from the door. “You've got to be strong and come out.”

There was a sound from the other side of the door, a terrible struggle. Cries and moans filled the air, and then there was a strangled gasp of pain.

“Angela?” Eve drew in her breath sharply. “Angela! Are you all right?”

And then another voice answered Eve, a voice that sent shudders up and down her back. “You tried to trick me! And now Angela's dead! You killed my bright side, and I'm going to kill you!”

Eve's eyes widened as a mighty blow almost shattered the door. The chair she'd wedged under the doorknob wouldn't hold for long. Eve had to do something to escape. But what? There was only one way out, and that was the door. And if she opened the door, Wicked would kill her just like she'd killed the others. The only other way out of Ryan's room was . . .

The balcony! Eve rushed to open the French doors. Perhaps she could hide behind something. But there was nowhere to hide on Ryan's balcony. He didn't even have any patio furniture.

Eve stepped to the trail and looked down with a shudder. It was only a one-story drop to the courtyard below, but it still made Eve feel dizzy. She'd always been terrified of heights. The pool was directly below her, its surface dimpled with the falling rain. Eve knew it was possible to climb over the rail and drop down into the pool. But could she force herself to do it?

Eve turned as she heard the chair legs scraping against the floor. So what if she was terrified of heights? She was even more terrified of Wicked. Eve made her hands reach out and grip the rail. She had to gather the courage to jump!

There was a crash as the chair toppled. Wicked was in Ryan's room! Eve didn't stop to consider what might happen when she hit the water. She just forced her shaking legs to climb over the rail and she dropped out into space.

A strange thing happened when Eve hit the surface of the water. She thought she heard voices, lots of them, and sirens screaming in the distance. And then strong arms were pulling her from the water, Ryan's arms.

“Are you all right, Eve?”

Eve had read about what happened to some people who'd had a near-death experience. They heard the voices of the people they cared about, and they saw the faces of their loved ones as they went to meet them in the bright white light. This was Ryan's voice. Eve was sure of that. And she could see his face. And there was a strong white light beckoning them as he carried her from the pool.

“Eve?”

Eve tried to smile. “Ryan. Am I dead?”

“No, Eve. You're just fine. But just in case, we'd better let the paramedics check you out.”

As Ryan set her on her feet, Eve caught sight of her reflection in the library window. Her hair was hanging in limp, wet strands, her blouse was torn from climbing over the rail, and her denim shorts hung on her like a pair of bloomers. She looked like a drowned rat.

She turned to Ryan. “Oh my God! Just look at me!”

“I am.” Ryan smiled at her. “You look beautiful, Eve.”

Eve's eyes widened. Ryan just had to be kidding! But he looked completely sincere as he brushed a lock of wet hair from her forehead. That was when Eve realized the source of the bright white light. An enterprising reporter from Channel Seven had climbed over the fence at the back of the property. A cameraman was with him, and they were taping the whole scene for the evening news!

Eve couldn't help it. She started to laugh. For the first time in her life, she didn't care at all about her appearance. She was alive, and Ryan thought she looked beautiful. And wasn't that all that really counted?

EPILOGUE

It was Christmas Eve, and they were giving their first Christmas party. Eve had been serious about moving out of the sorority house, and she'd convinced Beth to pool their resources so they could move into a rental house just off campus. Of course they had pets, five of them to be exact. Eve had the puppy Beth had told her about, Beth had brought her own dog, and they were bottle-feeding three abandoned kittens until they were old enough to be adopted.

Eve was in the kitchen, making appetizers. The holiday season was a time to be with friends, and Eve felt a little melancholy. Five of her friends were dead, victims of the tragedy at the Sutler Mansion. She thought about Cheryl and Tracie, and she smiled a sad smile. They would have loved this party. Scott would have come. And Marc. And even Jeremy, although Eve was sure he wouldn't have missed the opportunity to play another practical joke. Jeremy would have hung an ornament that exploded with worms or something equally gross on their Christmas tree.

“Do you need some help, Eve?” Ryan came into the kitchen just as Eve was taking a tray of baked appetizers out of the oven.

“I think I've got it under control.” Eve arranged the appetizers on a tray. “You can start passing these around if you want to.”

“Okay. But first, a kiss for the cook.” Ryan bent over and kissed Eve lightly on the lips. It was a sweet kiss, a social kiss, but it promised much more when the party was over.

“I talked to Professor Hellman today.” Eve smiled. “He's got some good news about your book. They're going to publish it, Ryan. And you're going to get an advance!”

Ryan grinned from ear to ear. “That's great! How about yours?”

“Not yet.” Eve shook her head. “We're still working on the rewrite, but Professor Hellman thinks it shows promise.”

“Anything about Dean's rock-opera?”

“Yes, and no.” Eve smiled. “He's gotten a couple of nibbles, but there's real interest in the songs he wrote with Beth. They've already sold three.”

“And Beth's poems?”

“One should be out next month.” Eve looked very happy for her friend. “She doesn't get any money. It's a literary magazine, and they pay her in extra copies. But Beth's really thrilled.”

“Good for her! I probably shouldn't bring this up, but what did you find out about . . . well . . . you know.”

“Angela?”

“How is she doing?”

“Not very well. I talked to her psychiatrist at Shadybrook Sanitarium, and he explained the whole thing to me. Angela really wanted to write fiction, Ryan, but her parents didn't approve. She used to write anyway, locked in her room, hiding what she wrote from them. By the time she graduated from high school, she'd finished a whole book. And that book was
Ten Little Writers.
”

Ryan looked surprised. “You mean she wrote it
before
she came to the workshop?”

“That's right. It's the reason why Angela could work so fast. Didn't you ever wonder how she had time to write her chapters when she was so busy helping everyone else? And didn't you think it was strange that her chapters were so professional?”

“I didn't think about it at the time, but you're right. No wonder they were so good! She'd had all that time to perfect them. But Angela didn't even know us before she got to the workshop. How did she put us in her book?”

“She didn't. Angela just substituted our names for the characters she'd already written. Her book was set in a mansion so she didn't have to change that. It was a simple revision, Ryan. It probably didn't take her more than five minutes. And then she just printed it out.”

Ryan sighed. “It really was a good book. Did her parents ever read it?”

“Yes. Angela finally got the courage to show it to them. They read it, but they didn't like it. They told her she'd wasted her time and she should be working on something more serious than fiction. That's when Angela began the split.”

“Split personality?”

“Exactly.” Eve did her best to explain. “Angela was an only child, and her parents were away a lot. She already had an imaginary playmate. A lot of only children do.”

Ryan looked surprised. “I was an only child, and I used to pretend I had a friend. His name was Tom, and he did all the things I wished I could do. Is that an imaginary playmate?”

“It sounds like it.” Eve smiled at him. “Mine was Margo, and she was really horrible. I blamed her for every nasty thing I did. I outgrew it, but Angela didn't. Her imaginary playmate turned into Wicked.”

“Wicked?”

“Wicked is Angela's alter ego. It's the dark side of her personality. Angela really wanted to please her parents, but she also wanted to write fiction. She felt guilty about what she was writing, and that's when Wicked came out. Wicked tried to protect Angela from her parents' displeasure.”

“By turning her fiction into fact?”

“That's right. Before the workshop started, Wicked talked to the technician who installed our computer network. He told her the printer had a huge memory, and he showed her how to duplicate the pages we'd already printed out. That's how Wicked knew who Angela's victims would be.”

“You mean Wicked didn't know what Angela was writing? Even though Wicked and Angela are the same person?”

“That's right. And they're not the same person, Ryan. They just share the same body. Angela didn't know what Wicked was doing. She was just as horrified as we all were when the victims in her book started to die in real life.”

Ryan looked confused. “But . . . how is that possible?”

“The psychiatrist said it's like a coin, placed flat on a tabletop. When one side faces up, you can't see the other. Angela had no awareness of Wicked. She didn't even know that Wicked existed. Angela's bright side, the real Angela, has a conscience. Wicked doesn't, and that's why that side of Angela's personality was capable of murder.”

“That's pretty sick, isn't it?”

“I'm afraid so.” Eve sighed. “Her psychiatrist told me he's trying to get in touch with Angela's bright side again, to bring her out so she's the dominant personality. But so far, he hasn't had any luck.”

“Is there any hope that she'll get better?”

“Her psychiatrist thinks so. He's trying drug therapy and hypnosis, but Angela's bright side is still dormant. Wicked has control of Angela's body. And as long as Wicked is dominant, Angela will have to stay behind locked doors.”

Ryan hugged Eve. “That's too bad, but I'm relieved. I'll never forget how Angela tried to kill you.”

“It wasn't Angela. It was Wicked,” Eve corrected him. “Angela was a really nice person with a lot of problems.”

“Hey . . . let's change the subject. I didn't want to put your Christmas present under the tree. There's just too many people here. I wanted to give it to you when we were alone.”

“Thank you, Ryan.” Eve took the small, gift-wrapped box he handed to her. She unwrapped it, and a delighted smile spread over her face. It was a diamond engagement ring! She handed it back to Ryan and held out her hand. “You'd better do the honors.”

“Does that mean you'll marry me?” Ryan looked very anxious as he slipped it on her finger.

“That's exactly what it means.” Eve threw her arms around Ryan and hugged him. “I love you, Ryan. Any guy who thinks I'm beautiful when I look like a drowned rat is definitely the man for me!”

* * *

It was ten o'clock on Christmas Eve when Wicked typed the words,
The End
, on her laptop computer. She printed out her last chapter and added the pages to the three-ring binder that was titled
Ten Little Writers
. She'd finished her book, and now she had things she had to do.

Wicked put everything she needed in a backpack. She considered herself lucky that the regular staff never worked on the holidays. They called in replacements who didn't really know the cases, and Wicked had managed to fool them all.

“Good-bye, Nurse Thompson.” Wicked stepped over the nurse she'd stabbed with a letter opener. She unlocked her door with the nurse's keys and stepped out into the hallway with a smile on her face. The staff was all in the day room, watching a movie on television, and the other patients had been sedated and put to bed. When Miss Thompson had come in to give Wicked her tranquilizer, Wicked had stabbed her.

The long hallway was deserted as Wicked unlocked the main door and slipped out into the cold, dark night. It didn't take long to find Miss Thompson's car. There were only a half dozen parked in the lot. Wicked started it and drove out through the wrought-iron gates.

As she traveled along the deserted highway, Wicked sang Christmas carols along with the radio. They were playing all her favorites—“Silent Night,” “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear,” and “Joy to the World.” Of course there wouldn't be much joy at Shadybrook Sanitarium tonight, not when they discovered that Miss Thompson was dead and Wicked had escaped.

Wicked drove carefully, observing the speed limit and signaling whenever she changed lanes. She didn't want to be stopped by the police for a traffic violation. Wicked gave a sigh of relief as she parked the nurse's car at the bus terminal. She'd made it, and now she was on her way.

Her final destination was over two hundred miles away, and Wicked had thought about flying. But they were bound to ask for identification at the airport, and she couldn't take that chance. Anyone with money could buy a bus ticket, no questions asked.

The bus was late, but Wicked didn't mind. She used the time to perfect her plan. And then Wicked was on the bus, smiling happily as she rode through the snowy countryside.

Wicked was sitting next to a talkative woman who was coming home from a Christmas Eve dinner. Wicked pretended to be Angela and she listened as the woman told her all about the wonderful dinner her daughter-in-law had served. But Wicked's mind wasn't on the goose with cranberry sauce, or the stuffing that had been made with roasted chestnuts. Wicked was thinking about how wonderful it would be when she got to the college and turned the rest of Angela's book into reality.