As quickly as the pleasant thoughts chased out the horrible events, a cold shiver tapped its way up her spine. Quickly turning, this time being watched wasn’t her imagination. A pair of dark eyes in the studio door’s small observation window, she yanked the headphones out of her ears, running to the portal. Flinging it open, she spotted Viktor at the top of the stairs casting an angry blast in her direction. The severity of his expression was enough to frost over her morning with ice crystals.
Retreating back into the studio, she slammed the door, leaning against it. Wishing it had a lock, she closed her eyes, reminding herself that it was morning and that she wasn’t alone. Only a scream away, Una and Anna were downstairs, as were Debra and Franklin. The two instructors were set to leave on Friday. There was also Alexei.
Telling herself that nothing was going to happen in the light of day, she just needed to get a hold of herself. Taking off the ratty sweatshirt that had been returned, she went into the center. Intent on shaking off the encounter, Viktor’s face had looked positively demonic. Anna was right. She’d dismissed the elderly woman as being dramatic, but now saw the wisdom in the words that had been imparted. She’d stay away from him, as should Una. Whatever the reason for ending their relationship, she’d been right in breaking things off.
Hooking up her music to external speakers, the music of Saint-Saens filtered through the air as raindrops through a web of leaves. Posing for a second, she launched into the choreography Alexei had taught her. The steps matched beautifully with the powerful strains of the piece. Trying to picture herself in costume and onstage, it would be a dream dancing Desirée.
No more than a puppet to her muscle memory, invisible strings pulled. Taking a tentative step, she immersed herself in an indulgent pas de bourée. The sunlight dappling the studio in light as if shot through a prism, splotches of colors splattered on her white leotard. Forming a weblike pattern on her pink tights, she let her back leg lead the way. Rushing across the studio in a graceful blur, she achieved a sensation of floating,
Launching into a tricky series of pirouettes, her head spun to meet her own image again, and again, and again. Her frightened face staring back, her pale skin looked as if it had been blanched in ice water. Catching a balance, she held it, stretching out into infinity. Time slowing as if caught up in molasses … the forest outside glistened, sparkling an evil design.
The Holybrook Woods outside clearly visible, the blanketing of snow led up to the forest’s edge as a runner to an altar. It was in that idyllic setting that people got lost. The morning light glimmered off the snow, sending flashes of a white so brilliant that it could blind, but it was all for show. The real threat was inside the boles of the trees. Remembering the story told on Halloween, the beating breasts were alleged to cover a massacre of flesh. Having a sinking feeling that the story told ‘round the fire wasn’t fantasy, there was so much hidden away. She didn’t know why Robert Mulligan had returned, but she had no doubt that he’d find more than he bargained for.
Let sleeping dogs lie.
It was so true. Secrets, like bodies, should remain buried, but deep within the woodlands where they were festering. The brotherhood joined by a fascination of death whispering phrases as eloquent as any poetry to victims found along the way, it was in that marshland she danced. Her feet bogged down in the soil soaked from lathering traces of force.
As the adagio approached, she felt the same tremor go through her that she’d felt the night she was drugged. A cold whistle invading her body, she began to relive the torment of the ordeal that she’d survived. It had been so frigid and dark … just like the studio was fast becoming. The four walls closed in, capturing her as if in a plastic bag. The air coming in short supply, her lungs burned, her brow sweating from exertion. The music spoke, telling her she would be reborn into something grand, but how could she trust something she couldn’t see?
The room spun, the woods coming closer. Surrounding her as hungry wolves. they would devour her if she let them.
“No!” she screamed, speeding through the rest. Her eyes filling with tears as she rushed ahead of the music, she’d punched the lid off the bell jar. Leaning on her hands, she heard the door behind her open.
“Why did you stop?”
Whirling around, she saw Alexei. Dressed in jeans and a black turtleneck, his thick blond hair curled over the tip of the woolen sweater.
“Why?” he repeated.
Her eyes met his, her resolve trembling as withered twigs in a winter’s breeze. She numbly shook her head having no idea what to say. The explanation was too deeply embedded in her psyche to be condensed in a sound byte. Mutely, she pantomimed a child’s vulnerability in the face of authority. She had let him down. More importantly, she’d let herself down.
“Come,” he said taking her hand. Bringing her to the corner, he picked up her sweatshirt and handed it to her. Pulling it over her heated body, she sank to the floor, cross-legged and ashamed. “You will make a beautiful Desirée, but you have to stop holding yourself back. Does dance mean that much to you that you feel you can’t express it in words? Is that it?”
‘Yes,” she nodded softly. Licking her lips, she brushed back a feathery wisp of hair. The old fears came back. Ensconced within her comfortable cotton shirt, she shuddered from the terrible cold. A shadow fell across Alexei’s face. It gave his warm expression an ominous note. Scared of him as she was of this studio, she was terrified of being at Velofsky’s, and of being so near the woods. Her father’s guest no longer important, she suddenly wanted to go home.
“But is there more?” he probed.
The question striking at the heart of her fears, perhaps it was time she shared her secret with someone.
“Yes,” she confessed, staring out the window. “I know this sounds crazy, but I feel as if I’m going to … die. Like if I surrender to dance, I’ll disappear.” Her eyes fixed on the solidity of the window frame, she anticipated a hand reaching in and pulling her through it.
“How long have you had such thoughts?”
“Ever since I was a little girl.”
“And would that be so bad?”
“What?” she answered, peeking up, startled by the question.
“Losing yourself, I mean.”
“Well, yeah! I mean, of course!” she said, struggling for the right words to convey her feelings. Sitting straighter, she searched the planes of his face for a reason as to why he would ask her such a thing. No one wanted to die, did they?
Smiling tenderly, he tilted his head.
“Melissa, you’re misinterpreting what you felt. You see in dance, losing yourself is the whole point, and yet so few can come to this realization. It’s why I chose you. You have that ability within you—the ability to transform and become something you’re not. It is what separates a handful of true artistes from the crowd, and yet, you fight it? Give into it, Melissa. By doing so, you become your character. You go beyond pretending and begin to live it. Do you understand?” he asked, his eyes burning with an inner fire.
A burst of sunlight harkened the dawn of a new day. She did understand.
“Thank you, Alexei. I never thought about it like that and I guess … well, I guess, it’s these things going on that have me spooked. I feel so weird. Like there’s something walking around, and then … this morning with Viktor.”
Alexei’s arms shot out, his torso lurching forward. His face wore the mantle of alarm.
“What about Viktor?”
“Well, I had the feeling I was being watched. So I turned around and saw someone, but they moved away. I followed them out into the hallway, and saw it was him. He was at the stairs, looking at me with such … well, hatred,” she said, not wanting to use that word, but having no choice but to tell the truth.
Alexei sighed, rubbing at his eyes. Running his hand through his thick mass of hair, he grabbed at his knee.
“I have tried to keep my eyes on him. It was such a mistake bringing him here, but there is a history
and …”
“Yes, I know,” Melissa asserted.
“You do?” he asked, her countenance confirming that she did. With a flash of raised eyebrows and a sullen shrug, he continued. “Anyway, I am giving you a friendly warning to stay away from him. As you may or may not know, I’m leaving tonight, and … is there really nowhere you can go?”
“No, nowhere. Not until the 24th.”
“Then promise me you’ll stay close to Una and Anna. They’ve hired another guard to work in the daytime. Then there’s that boy you’re seeing … you can always rely on him, no?”
“Yes, of course I can,” she stated, surprised that he was aware of her budding romance.
Relaxing, a benevolent smile moved over his face like a bird across a blue, cloudless sky.
“Then you’ll be fine. Just fine,” he proclaimed. Standing, he brushed himself off before leaving the room.
Feeling relieved, Melissa remained in the studio. Not dancing, she only stared out the window at the woods. Riveted by the sight, there was something hypnotic about it. A sudden snowstorm causing a dazzling display, it blanketed out the sun. A yawn progressed into a long stretch. The stirring of the deep-seated emotions caused a sense of peace. As anxious as she’d been to leave Holybrook, she no longer was in any hurry. Trading her pointe shoes for a pair of flip-flops, she casually packed her bag. A quick scan assuring everything was in place, she stepped into the hall, closing the door behind her.
A soft footstep caused her to look up. No more than a squeak of a sole on the wooden floorboards, there was someone on the stairs. The storm subduing the light, she identified the form as a female. A slender one at that, the size ruled out Una or Anna. Walking forward, the figure turned its head. It was Zoe.
“Zoe? What … what on earth are you doing here?” Melissa called out, not sure whether to believe her own eyes.
Wearing a familiar black sequined track suit, she’d seen her in it at least a dozen times. Her dark hair pulled back, she unleashed a sly, threatening smile. Pivoting her head, her long ponytail swished through the air. Hurrying down the stairs, she was doing her best to get away.
“No, wait! Stop!” yelled Melissa.
Giving chase, she ran after her. Reaching the fourth floor landing, Zoe was still one flight away, Melissa dug in, trying to close the distance. Her legs flashed, her feet rebounding off the soft cushioning of her shoes. Wishing that she’d worn her sneakers, they were less unwieldy. Picking up her pace, she feared tumbling down the flight of stairs. Peering over the railing, she still hadn’t gained any ground. Not ready to give up, she had to find out what she was doing here—as well as why she was running away.
Down the flights they flew, her pulse and mind in turmoil. Not sure if what she was doing was wise, she risked another look over the rail. Zoe had reached the main floor. Scurrying across the entryway, she headed to the back of the building.
Melissa pressed into action, moving at an astonishing speed. Her sandals making loud smacking sounds as they landed, she jumped down the last few steps. Steadying herself by bending her knees, she tore after her prey. Crossing the room, she stopped, unsure as to what direction she’d gone in. Hearing a loud groan, she ran towards the noise. Glimpsing only the back of her target, Zoe escaped through a heavy, steel-tipped door. Never having been in this part of the building, Missy had no idea where it led.
Against her better judgment, she twisted the knob. Yanking the door open the force needed was considerable. Creaking open, she slipped in, looking down the steep, narrow stairs. Not seeing a light switch, she placed her dance bag in the path of the door to prevent it from closing.
Light filtering through the opening, it let in enough illumination to see. Slowly making her way down, she stopped a moment. Faint footsteps echoed on the cement of the basement. A large heater dominating one corner, the design made it resemble an octopus. Creeping down the final few steps, she debated about what to do next. Having no idea where Zoe had gone, she was regretting her decision to come down to the cellar alone. After all, she was dangerous. The fact that she’d tried to normalize drugging her was proof of that. She had no doubt that if Zoe came at her with an axe, she’d probably explain it away as confusing her with a Christmas tree.
Fingering the newel cap, she took her hand off the handrail. With renewed determination, she took a few steps forward—the door upstairs slamming shut. Bathing her in complete darkness, faint shuffling sounds fired her imagination. Convinced that someone was coming towards her, she started to panic. Hurriedly attempting to retrace her steps, she lost her bearings. Spreading her arms in front of her, she tried to feel her way to safety. Something soft brushed across her face. Screaming, she pushed it away. The object was easily batted away, but returned as quickly, draping across her skin. Only a string, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief hoping that something was attached to it.
Gathering it in her hand, she gave a sharp tug. A single bulb was called into action. Her heart beating too feverishly, a sense of relief spread through her. It was so much better with a light on, but coming downstairs was a huge mistake. The heater kicking in, it sent an ominous rumble throughout the room. Her adrenalin stoked, all her instincts told her to get out of there, but her curiosity would not be denied.
Small partitions shielded off small sections from prying eyes. Probably only built to store unsightly tools, anything could be concealed in the hidden rooms—even a malevolent ballerina.
Backing up, she tripped over something soft. Twisting her upper body like a cat, her hands broke her fall. Landing on a pile of clothes, her hand grabbed at a blouse on the top layer. Her heart fluttering, she recognized the shirt in her hand. It belonged to Brandi.
“Brandi,” she murmured softly. Holding it to her chest, she began to cry.
The shock over, she leapt up, this time stumbling over two suitcases laying near the mass of missing possessions. The sound of something metallic came from behind the partition. No longer having any inclination to find out what caused it, if Zoe wanted to play phantom of Velofsky’s that was her business. She’d taken things as far as she could. It was now someone else’s turn to investigate.
Bounding up the stairs, she screamed out for help, the soft pink shirt still clutched in her hand.
Chapter Fifty-one
As Todd’s tires gained traction in the snow-patched dirt road, his temper flared dangerously out of control. While barging in on an investigation that he wasn’t invited to was not going to win him any friends, he was so furious that he didn’t care. He was tired of his ideas being dismissed, and the reason given for the official shunning was absolutely ridiculous. So what if he were personally involved with Melissa? She was hardly a suspect, and if she did turn out to be the axe-wielding murderer, he’d be the first one to slap cuffs on her.
Besides, what did these federal agents know about Holybrook? Nothing. They didn’t know its residents or its history. It had been Foster that first tied Laurie Hilliard to Larabee’s disappearance, but rather than give the Holybrook police the credit they deserved, it hadn’t done anything to make the Feds loosen the reins by listening to valuable input. Like what he’d said about Mulligan. They’d overridden his assertion that he was a victim. Mrs. Marks was probably already cleaning away what could be valuable evidence.
Slapping the steering wheel with the palm of his hand allowed him to vent some anger, but it wasn’t enough to keep the lid from popping. The boys at the station had been reluctant to tell him the rest. Overhearing a conversation, he’d learned Cummings was back to targeting Missy as Public Enemy Number One. All because she’d discovered Brandi Cappella’s missing baggage. He should have been overjoyed instead of vindictive.
God, he hated working with these clowns! While Larabee had his faults, he’d been a good detective. Unfortunately, Hotchkins hadn’t stuck around long enough for an assessment, but Todd had a hard time believing he was as clueless as the heir to the throne. It was a bad decision to put Cummings in charge. He’d inherited a j
ob that he had no business handling.
Screeching to a halt, there was no having to guess where the party was. A congeries of squad and unmarked vehicles lining the cul-de-sac’s common area, he bolted out of his patrol car, the wind helping him slam the door closed with a crashing insolence. The noise attracted little attention from the handful of professionals outside. His boots crunching on the packed snow, he pounded up the wooden stairs. Nodding to the cadre of officials, he kept his head low in case Cummings’ directive had been more than informal.
Hurrying through the front door, his appearance didn’t raise any eyebrows. The team of investigators milled about, looking like hornets after a sprinkler had been turned on. Managing to avoid more than a mild brush of his shoulder with anyone, he mounted the stairs, taking a chance that the questioning was being conducted upstairs.
Sure enough, he saw Foster and a couple other members of Holybrook’s finest lolling in the hallway on the third floor.
“Todd!” Foster pleaded, doing his best to restrain the young man with his outstretched hand.
“Get out of my way,” he demanded.
The startled faces of Ace and Angela Murray met his, Ace’s eyes nearly disappearing in disapproval. Melissa jumped, the miserable expression morphing into a jubilant rejoicing of spirit. Smiling, she concentrated on answering Ace’s question.
“I touched the clothing because I fell on it. It wasn’t deliberate or anything. I just tripped,” she explained. Her hands trembling, her body exhibited clear signs of distress.
“Or perhaps covering something up? If your DNA had already been on that clothing, your rolling around on it would be a good way of masking it, right?”
Todd’s stomach tightened. Not understanding why this jerk was going after Melissa, couldn’t he see her size? How the hell could someone like that be responsible for someone like Larabee being dragged off into the woods?
“I, I, I don’t know what you mean. Why would I be covering anything up?” she asked, her eyes shifting between Ace and Angela. Eventually landing on Todd, everything about her expression conveyed desperation. “If I were hiding something, wouldn’t I have just gotten rid of everything?”
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