She opened the pack with shaking fingers and took out the little bottle of anxiety meds. She swallowed one tablet dry. Predictably, it got caught in her throat. Probably just her imagination. She swallowed hard again and again. But she could still feel it lodged there in her throat.
In a full-blown panic now, she leaped to her feet and rushed back into the library. She managed to make it to the drinking fountain. She gulped water until the choking sensation eased.
She went back outside, sat down on a bench and waited for the medication to kick in. Streams of people came and went from the library.
After a while she grew calmer and began to ponder her next move. The problem was that it was impossible to know if the other members of the club were in danger. She had to assume that the bastard who had murdered Louise was after her, as well. But if he was thinking logically, he would realize that he did not have to be concerned with Madison, Victoria and Emily. She and Louise had never told any of the three about the hunt for the killer.
But there was no reason to assume that he was thinking logically. He was a rapist and a killer, after all. That meant he was obsessed, violent; maybe flat-out crazy. At the very least he was a full-on psychopath.
The only real question was why he had started to escalate a few months back. As far as she could tell, until that point he had continued to rape and terrify victims, but he had not murdered them. Something must have happened to alter his pattern.
Whatever the case, this was no longer about just her past. She had an obligation to warn the others, she decided. Back at the beginning they'd prepared a contingency plan in case things went wrong. It had been Madison's idea. Madison was the founder of the club. One by one she had brought each of them into her exciting, secret world.
After a while Jocelyn got up and went back inside the library. She stood in line again to put a fake name down on the list of those waiting for computer access.
She hoped the clerk would not assign her the same booth that the porn-obsessed kid had used.
CHAPTER 15
The birthday party was in full swing when Max arrived. He stood in the doorway and watched Charlotte hand out slices of cake and glasses of pink punch to a crowd of seniors.
The partygoers appeared to range in age from early seventies to late nineties. One or two might have been pushing a hundred. The banner strung across the room read Happy Birthday. Balloons bobbed and colorful streamers hung from the ceiling.
An elderly woman with a helmet of white curls wheeled her walker forward and stopped directly in front of him.
"Come on in," she said. "Join the party. I'm Ethel Deeping, by the way."
"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Deeping," he said.
"Call me Ethel. The party is for everyone here at Rainy Creek Gardens who has a birthday this month. Plenty of cake and punch."
"Thanks," he said. "But I just came by to speak with Ms. Sawyer."
"Charlotte?" Ethel glanced toward the cake table. "She's right over there." Ethel raised her voice. "Charlotte. There's a gentleman here to see you."
Charlotte glanced up at the sound of her name. Max thought he glimpsed a little spark of welcome in her eyes when she saw him. But maybe that was just his imagination. Or wishful thinking.
"Thank you, Ethel," she said. She smiled at Max and held out a paper plate with a slice of cake on it. "Would you like a piece?"
He realized that every eye in the room was on him. There was open curiosity and speculation on every well-lined face. He was aware that a few of the celebrants were watching him with something that looked a lot like suspicion.
"Sure," he said.
He walked to the cake table and took the paper plate. Charlotte handed him a plastic fork. He took a bite.
The buzz of conversation immediately got louder.
He moved a little closer to Charlotte and lowered his voice.
"Why is everyone staring at me?" he asked.
"They're just curious about you," she whispered.
"Because I'm a stranger?"
"Well, not entirely. I'm afraid it's more about me than it is about you. The last man who dropped by to see me here at Rainy Creek Gardens was my fiancé. He came to tell me that he couldn't go through with the marriage."
"He did it here? In public? With all your coworkers and the residents around?"
"Brian said he thought it would be easier for me that way."
Dumbfounded, Max stared at her. "Easier? For you?"
"You know, so I wouldn't be alone afterward. He said he knew that I would be among friends who could comfort me."
"That's complete bullshit."
He didn't realize that he had spoken into one of those strange silences that can fall over a room without warning until the words were out of his mouth. By then it was too late.
The birthday crowd froze. He was suddenly the focal point of a variety of expressions that ranged across the spectrum from stern disapproval to acute interest. He was sure he heard a couple of snorts of muffled laughter.
At the back of the room a tall woman with thinning gray hair rammed her cane against the floor a couple of times.
"What did he say?" she demanded in a voice that carried the weight of authority.
Max figured her for a retired professor or maybe a doctor.
"He said bullshit," Ethel responded, raising her own voice to make sure the questioner heard her.
"For pity's sake," Charlotte muttered.
"Why'd he say bullshit?" the woman with the cane asked.
"Good question," someone else said.
"This is your problem," Charlotte said out of the side of her mouth. "You solve it."
There was another sudden silence. Max swallowed a bite of cake and faced the crowd.
"Ms. Sawyer just told me that her former fiancé, who evidently was an asshole, came here to Rainy Creek Gardens to tell her that he was calling off the wedding. She said she thought he chose to drop the bomb on her here for her sake. She thinks the s.o.b. was trying to be thoughtful. He didn't want her to be alone afterward. He wanted her to have friends around who could comfort her. I said that was bullshit. He did it here because he knew she wouldn't make a scene in front of all of you."
"Damn right," a man declared.
"Bullshit, for sure," another man said.
"Yep, he did it here to save his own hide," Ethel announced. "That jerk was a coward if ever there was one. You're better off without him, Charlotte."
A chorus of voices chimed in, agreeing with Ethel's conclusion.
Max looked at Charlotte.
"They're right," he said. "You're better off without him."
Charlotte gave him a steely look. "Why, exactly, did you come here, Mr. Cutler?"
"I wanted to see if we could meet after you get off work. Maybe have drinks. I have a few things to discuss with you."
A ripple of approval swept across the room.
Ethel beamed. "Say yes, Charlotte. This one looks like a much better catch than the jerk."
"Thank you," Max said. "But it doesn't sound like the jerk set the bar very high."
There was another wave of laughter.
Charlotte's jaw tensed.
Max lowered his voice and leaned in close to whisper in her ear.
"I tracked down the Loring detective who handled your stepsister's case. He's willing to answer a few questions."
Charlotte caught her breath. Her eyes widened with excitement. "I leave here at five. Would it be convenient for you to come to my apartment around six? We would have some privacy there."
"I can do that," he said.
CHAPTER 16
Madison waited until she was certain that her administrative assistant had left the office. When she was satisfied that she was alone, she took out her phone.
Victoria answered immediately, her voice terse with dread.
"Did you get the warning, too?" she asked.
"Yes." Madison walked to the wall of windows. Her office was on the thirty-seventh floor of the office tower. She had a sweeping view of Elliott Bay and the Olympics beyond. "I just heard from Emily. She said she received the same message."
"At least that means that Jocelyn's alive. She's gone into hiding."
"Not necessarily. That message was sent from an anonymous e-mail address. There's no way to know if Jocelyn was the sender."
"What are you talking about?" Victoria asked, clearly startled. "Who else could have sent it? Only the five of us knew the emergency code."
"Exactly. Now Louise is dead and Jocelyn is off the grid-supposedly."
"Where are you going with this?" Victoria demanded.
"It occurs to me that Emily might have sent the code. She's very, very good with computers. She would know how to make the message look like it came from an anonymous e-mail address."
There was a short, startled silence before Victoria responded.
"But why would she do that?"
"I don't know for sure, but I can think of one possible scenario and, frankly, it scares the shit out of me."
"What?"
"The Keyworth Investment."
"What about it?" But Victoria sounded wary now.
"The buyout looks like a sure thing. There's a lot of money at stake."
"Oh, shit, Madison. You can't be serious."
"Originally we were going to split it five ways. But with one member of the club dead, that becomes a four-way split. And if two members of the club are gone, we're down to a three-way split. What if it doesn't stop there? What if another member of the club suffers an unfortunate accident or an overdose? You or me, for instance?"