Thrill

by Jackie Collins

  You were never pretty, a voice in her head taunted her. You were always the ugly girl. Always the slob. Nobody liked you. Nobody wanted to spend time with you. Sewer . . . The Dump . . . Big Boy—the hateful nicknames came back to haunt her.

  People would think she was pretty when she was on the cover of Time. People would look at her in admiration when her picture adorned the front of Newsweek. TV would get into the act, too. Hard Copy would run stories on her. Inside Edition would speak about her. Prime Time. Dateline. Even 60 Minutes.

  She’d be more famous than anyone in the world. The media would cover her case for months.

  Alison Sewell would be right up there, along with Charles Manson, Mark Chapman and the rest of them.

  Alison Sewell. The first woman to gain such a distinguished honor.

  “Alison. Why don’t you come here? We can talk.”

  She heard the bitch’s voice again. “Don’t worry, Lara,” she called out. “I’M COMING RIGHT NOW. I’M COMING TO SLIT YOUR PRETTY LITTLE THROAT.”

  CHAPTER

  72

  THE CABDRIVER COULDN’T SEEM TO keep quiet. “Damn American weather,” he kept on mumbling. “Damn California. Damn riots. Damn fires.”

  Summer huddled on the backseat. She didn’t want conversation, all she wanted was to shiver her way into oblivion.

  “What’s wrong with you?” the driver demanded, twisting his head. “In my country—girls—they no run at night by themselves. This no right.”

  “Where are you from?” she forced herself to ask. Maybe if she got him talking about his country, she could tune out while he blathered on.

  “Beirut,” he said proudly. “Beautiful place, till the bombing. Those bastards took everything, a man’s pride, his home, those bastards took it all. Damn terrorists!”

  “How long have you been in America?”

  “Too long.”

  “Aren’t we going the wrong way?” she asked, peering out the window. “Shouldn’t you have taken Coldwater Canyon?”

  “I go Sepulveda. Weather bad for canyon. Big flooding.” He gave a hacking cough before continuing his litany of complaints. “Everything in L.A. too much. Flooding, fires, riots, carjackings. They put gun to my head one day. Those bastards!”

  “That’s awful,” she said, not really caring at all.

  There was a red light ahead. Her cab stopped just in time as the car in front of them smashed into the back of a Cadillac standing at the stoplight.

  “You see, you see,” her cabdriver shouted excitedly. “American maniacs!”

  The driver of the Cadillac got out of his car, screamed at the other driver and ran up to the cabdriver’s window. “You see that?” he yelled. “You’re my witness.”

  “No see nothing,” her driver said, staring straight ahead. “Nothing.” Then he maneuvered his cab around the two cars and drove on.

  “How long before we’re at the address I gave you?” Summer asked.

  “In this weather? With lousy American drivers. Don’t know.”

  “If you hate Americans so much, why’d you come here?” she asked, fed up with his complaining.

  He let out a crafty laugh. “Good thing about America—money—money—money! ’ ’

  • •

  “What’s with the traffic?” Nikki said impatiently, stuck behind a line of cars on the Pacific Coast Highway.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t let me drive,” Sheldon responded irritably.

  “Because it’s my car and I know where we’re going.”

  “You never could drive,” Sheldon said.

  “According to you, I was incapable of doing anything,” Nikki replied. “Maybe that’s why you married me, so you could take a child and mold her. Is that why you married Rachel, too?”

  “I refuse to listen to your garbage,” he said, staring straight ahead.

  “I was such a baby, wasn’t I? So malleable. That’s why you were able to talk me into leaving Summer with you, when she should have come with me and you knew it.”

  “Summer is a very well adjusted girl. Or at least she was, until she stayed with you in L.A. Examine the way you conduct your life. Richard seemed decent, now you’re with someone who looks like he belongs in a rock-and-roll band.”

  “Aiden’s a very fine actor.”

  “I always said you were damaged. Now you’ve proved me right.”

  “I’m not getting in another fight,” Nikki said with a weary sigh. “I’ve achieved so much since you and I were together. If you’d had your way, I’d still be locked in the house while you systematically screwed your way through all your patients. God! I cannot believe you’re a psychiatrist. It seems criminal.”

  A policeman with a flashlight slowly moved down the line of cars, talking to the drivers. He reached Nikki’s window. “Big accident up ahead, ma’am,” he said. “There’ll be a delay.”

  “How long?” she asked, impatiently.

  “We’re trying to move it along as fast as possible. But unless you have to make the journey, I suggest you turn around and go home.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “We have to get into town.”

  At least she had an idea where Summer was now. If she was with her friend Tina, it wouldn’t be long before Nikki found her.

  And when she did, she was never letting her go again.

  • •

  The cab finally pulled up in front of Tina’s apartment building.

  “You’ll have to wait a minute,” Summer said. “I’ve got to get my money—it’s inside.”

  “Oh no, no, no,” the driver said, his face turning purple. “I no wait. You run out back door, I know American girls.”

  “If you don’t trust me, come in with me,” Summer said impatiently.

  “I no leave cab,” he answered sternly. “Somebody steal.”

  She sneezed. “I’m going inside. Either you come with me, or wait here for your money. I really don’t like, care.” With that she flung open the cab door and ran into the apartment building, almost slipping on the front steps. God, she hoped Tina was home. What was she going to do if she wasn’t? The whacko cabdriver would probably have her arrested if she didn’t pay him.

  She rang the doorbell of Tina’s apartment and waited.

  Seconds later, Tina flung open the door. “About time,” she exclaimed. “Ohmigod, look at you! What did you do, go for a swim in the ocean?”

  “I’ve come to collect my things,” Summer said frostily. “Then I’ll get out of your way.”

  “Don’t be so lame,” Tina said. “You look like you’ve had a crummy night. Come in. Anyway, I told you on the phone, there’s a whole new development, so you’d better get spiffed up.”

  “What new development?”

  “Well . . . fifteen minutes after you left, Norman came out of the bedroom, dumps the two babes he’s with and says, ‘Where’s Summer?’ How d’you like that?”

  “He did?” Summer said, perking up.

  “He certainly did. So I told him you weren’t pleased with the situation and had gone home. That excited him no end. Seems he likes a girl who’s hard to get.”

  Now Summer was really interested. “What happened then?” she asked.

  “He said, ‘I’ll get rid of everybody—bring her back.’ And I said, ‘Show me the money!’ ”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “I told him you weren’t coming back for nothing, and if I had to go find you, we wanted to get paid for our time.” Tina grinned. “You know what? He gave me a thousand bucks and said, ‘Go find her.’ We’re rich!”

  “I’ve had the most horrible night,” Summer complained. “I nearly got raped. Then I was lost and couldn’t get a cab. Now I’m hungry and tired.” Inexplicably she burst into tears. “I think I made a big mistake coming back to L.A.”

  “No way,” Tina said, putting her arm around Summer’s shoulders. “I told you—we’re gonna make a fortune. We got off to a bad start, that’s all. Now go take a shower and wash your hai
r. I’ll fix you some hot soup, then I’ll call Norman and see if he wants us back tonight or tomorrow.”

  “I’m not going anywhere tonight,” Summer said, vigorously shaking her head. “I have to sleep.”

  “If he wants us to, we gotta go. If we don’t, then I think he’ll like lose interest. You don’t want to miss out, do you?”

  “Oh wow!” Summer said, suddenly remembering. “There’s an angry cabdriver downstairs waiting for me to pay him.”

  “I’ll take care of it. You go shower. And Summer—”

  “Yes?”

  “Sorry I acted like a major bitch before. Didn’t mean to. Sometimes coke makes me crazy.”

  “Okay.” Summer nodded, relieved they were friends again. “All is forgiven.”

  The two girls hugged.

  “I’ll go pay your cabdriver,” Tina said. “Be right back.”

  • •

  Finally they crawled past the accident on the highway. Nikki could see two cars, both of them overturned and in bad shape. She looked quickly to see if one of the accident vehicles was Aiden’s truck. He drove like a madman. Fortunately he wasn’t involved.

  Sheldon had slumped into silence, which was a good thing, because she didn’t have anything to say to him. She did not care to be in his presence. She should have left him at the beach house and come to find Summer by herself. But then again, maybe she’d need his support.

  Why had Summer run away? That was the question.

  She turned down Sunset. The twisting street was like a river, a slick of rainwater rushing down toward the inadequate drains. Lightning flashed, accompanied by loud rumbles of thunder. Keeping to the inside lane, she drove as fast as she could without endangering both of them. When they drew closer to Beverly Hills she said, “I have to make a right on San Vicente, so watch for it; I can barely see a thing.”

  Ten minutes later, Sheldon said, “Make your turn at the next stoplight.”

  She reached the light, veered to the right, and as they were turning in to the apartment building on the left, Sheldon said urgently, “Look—isn’t that her?”

  She glanced over. Summer was getting into a red sports car. Before Nikki could cross in front of oncoming traffic, the sports car roared off in the opposite direction.

  Sheldon sat up very straight. “That is her,” he said. “Follow that car.”

  Nikki didn’t need to be told twice.

  CHAPTER

  73

  SHE’D FACED DANGER BEFORE. SITTING in the next room while her father had shot her mother and brother to death. The endless hours in the motel room before he’d turned the gun on himself. It had been raining that night, too; and the night Morgan Creedo’s car had smashed into the truck, decapitating him.

  Oh, yes. Danger—Lara knew what that was about only too well. But all the same, her throat was dry, her hands shaking. She was trapped in a dark house in the middle of a storm with an obsessed stalker.

  She backed across the living room, feeling her way around the furniture until she reached the glass doors that led outside to the terrace. Slipping the catch, she opened the door and eased herself outside into the driving rain. If she could reach the stairs and get down to the beach, then she’d make a run for it—hopefully get to another house for help.

  But what if Cassie came back and walked into the situation? What if Alison attacked her? Oh God! Now she was in a quandary. Did she run, or did she stay? She had no weapon, nothing to defend herself with. Plus she wouldn’t be much help to Cassie if Alison Sewell carried out her threat and slit her throat. Then both she and Cassie would be dead.

  No, the best thing was to go for help and call the police. Get out, that was the smart thing to do.

  Fortunately, Alison Sewell would have no idea there were stairs leading down to the beach.

  The ground was thick with mud and overgrown plants. Lara kept tripping as she ran toward the gate at the top of the outside steps. Unfortunately, when she reached the gate and tried to open it, she realized it was padlocked.

  Now what?

  She glanced back at the house. A flash of lightning lit up the sky.

  In the momentary glare she could see Alison Sewell, standing by the glass doors she’d just escaped through. Alison was holding a knife. And on her face was an expression of pure hatred.

  • •

  Richard smiled to himself. Ever since he’d come back from Mexico, his nefarious past firmly behind him, there was nothing he couldn’t do.

  He wanted to direct successful movies. Done.

  He wanted to marry Lara Ivory. Done.

  Now he wanted her back, and nobody was going to stop him. And if they tried to . . .

  Well, he’d killed once. There was nothing to stop him doing it again if it meant protecting Lara.

  Who else would think of calling Cassie in her car? God, he was clever. He’d come a long way from the fifteen-year-old street-smart kid whose father had thrown him out. Not to mention the twenty-eight-year-old drugged-out loser who’d shot Hadley and thought that was it. Over. Finito.

  Yes. He was a true survivor. He’d reinvented himself, become an upstanding member of the Hollywood community, admired and respected.

  And yet . . . only Lara had made him truly happy, and look what he’d done to her.

  He was determined to make up for his cheating ways. When he and Lara were back together he’d treat her like a queen. No more makeup girls or Kimberlys or actresses who begged him to fuck them so they’d get more than their share of close-ups. No. Once again he was reinventing himself, just for her.

  He called the front desk and told them to bring his car around. Then he put on his raincoat and set off.

  Soon he would experience a reunion with the love of his life.

  As far as he was concerned, it couldn’t be soon enough.

  • •

  The bitch was attempting to run. But running was no good, because Alison Sewell could run faster than anyone. She’d chased more celebrities than she could remember. Tracked them down and caught them in her lens.

  Outside the rain was coming down in fierce torrents. Lara Ivory couldn’t get away from her, no sense in trying.

  Alison pulled the hood of her parka over her head and resolutely set out for the spot where she’d last seen Lara standing.

  Bitch! She wouldn’t be the pretty girl when Alison got through with her. No—not Lara Ivory, who’d represented all the pretty girls Alison had been forced to look at year after year. The actresses on film. The haughty supermodels strutting down the runways, showing off their skinny bodies and fake tits, smiling at the camera as if they were the only pretty girls in the world. She hated them all!

  Lara would be punished for every one of them. Michelle Pfeiffer and her calm beauty; Naomi Campbell and her superior smile; Cindy Crawford with her cute little beauty mark; Winona Ryder and her winsome charm.

  Yes, Lara Ivory would pay the price. She’d pay the price for all of them.

  • •

  “Oh, fuck!” Joey exclaimed, as he approached the accident site and recognized the remains of Cassie’s car. Abruptly he pulled the Mercedes over to the shoulder of the road and jumped out.

  Oh Jesus, God. What if Lara was hurt? What if she was dead? He couldn’t bear the thought.

  He raced over to the wrecking crew, who were busy untangling twisted metal. “Where are the people who were in this car?” he asked urgently.

  “They took ’em to the hospital,” one of the guys said.

  “What hospital?”

  “Dunno, it wasn’t long ago.”

  “Was anybody . . . killed?” he asked, barely able to get the words out.

  “You’ll have to ask that cop over there. He was here when the ambulance came.”

  He ran over to the cop. “That your car over there?” the cop said. “Get it outta here. Can’t you see what’s going on?”

  “I knew the people in the Saab. Are they okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. The woman’s pretty cut up an�
�� has some broken bones, but the ambulance guy said she’ll be all right. The man in the Porsche bought it. Straight through the windshield—no seat belt.”

  “There were two women in the Saab. Are they both okay?”

  “Only one in the car—the driver. Kind of a large lady. Gotta feeling her bulk saved her.”

  “Only one? You sure?”

  “Yeah. They’ve taken her to St. John’s. Now do me a big one an’ get your car outta here.”

  “It wasn’t Lara Ivory?”

  The cop laughed. “The movie star? Are you kiddin’ me? If it’d been Lara Ivory, I’d’ve known about it.”

  “Thanks,” Joey said.

  “They’re talking mud slides down the highway, and some flooding, so if you don’t havta go there, I’d turn back.”

  “I gotta get home.”

  “You’d better hurry, ’cause we may be closin’ the roads soon.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  He ran back to the Mercedes. Something didn’t feel right. He was filled with the same kind of uneasiness he’d experienced when he’d visited his mother that fateful day, and she’d ended up shooting Danny.

  A lot of cars were turning around and heading back to town, which meant the traffic ahead was easing up. But the road was becoming more hazardous. People were dashing across the highway, lugging sandbags; small boulders were beginning to roll down from the sodden cliff.

  He knew he’d better hurry and get there while he still could.

  • •

  One quick glimpse of Alison’s face was enough to convince Lara that she had to get away as quickly as possible. And how was she going to do that when she couldn’t even reach the steps down to the beach?

  She hid in the heavy shrubbery surrounding the terrace, holding her breath, desperately trying to think what she could use as a weapon if Alison came at her.

  Then she remembered there was a small garden shed at the side of the property. She began scrambling toward it.