Obsessed (40 page)

It was one in the morning when the band packed up, and shortly after that, the party guests began to leave. Carla and Linda had moved to a table, and Carla knew they’d have to go soon. It would look strange if they were the last ones to leave.

“Are you ready, Carla?” Andy was frowning as he approached their table. He’d been trying to pick up on Tammy all night, but he’d obviously struck out.

Carla nodded, and reached for her purse. “I’m ready. But you don’t really have to follow me, Andy. There’s nothing wrong with my car. I was just trying to give Michael an excuse to leave, if he didn’t want to stay with Vera.”

“I don’t think Michael minds staying.”

Andy gestured toward the deserted stretch of beach that had been set aside as a dance floor, and Carla turned to look. Michael was still dancing with Vera, even though the band had stopped playing over ten minutes ago.

“You’re right.” Carla sighed as she watched them dance to the nonexistent music. Michael didn’t look trapped now. His arms were around Vera’s waist and he was holding her very close. There was a dreamy expression on his face, and he was smiling down into Vera’s eyes.

“He’s bombed.” Andy leaned close to whisper in Carla’s ear. “The bartender said he’s been spiking Michael’s drinks with vodka. Vera told him to do it. I guess she really wants him to stay.”

“I guess so.” Carla got up, and started for the stairs with Linda and Andy. She didn't want to say goodbye to Vera, and there was no reason to say anything to Michael. He was so torqued, he wouldn't remember it anyway.

Andy seemed to be oblivious to Carla’s disappointment. He even whistled a little tune as they climbed up the stairs. When they reached Carla’s car, he opened the door and grinned at her. “Nice party, huh?”

Carla didn’t bother to reply. She just got inside her car, started the engine, and backed out onto the high way. It hadn’t been a nice party. It had been horrible.

As Carla drove down the highway toward home, she found herself wishing that she were more like Judy. What Judy had done was wrong, but Carla was beginning to understand why she’d done it. She was almost as angry as Judy had been, when she’d seen Michael falling under Vera’s spell.

“Where are you when I need you, Judy?” Carla let the wind from her open window blow her words away. Then she gave a bitter laugh. She almost wished that Judy were still alive. If Judy had seen Vera spiking Michael’s drinks, she would have taken action. Judy wouldn’t have sat by idly and watched as Vera set her trap for Michael. She would have armed herself with another arrow and gotten rid of Vera, once and for all!

Fourteen

Vera was having the time of her life. She’d seen Carla sitting at the table, looking heartsick, and it hadn’t bothered her a bit. Carla’d had her chance with Michael and she’d blown it. She never should have let him get away.

A soft laugh escaped Vera’s lips. Her father’s pas sion was fishing, and he was always talking about something called “catch and release.” If her father caught a fish, he took out the hook and put it back into the water so the next fisherman could have his fun. Vera knew that Carla had landed Michael, hook, line and sinker. He’d certainly seemed to be crazy about her. But Carla had lacked the courage to keep him. She’d let Michael go, and that had been her big mistake. Now Vera had caught him, and she intended to keep him until she got exactly what she wanted. Michael was her trophy, and this party had been an excuse to show him off.

“What’s so funny?”

Michael’s words were slurred and Vera giggled. She hoped she hadn’t spiked his drinks with too much vodka. She had big plans for him later. She patted his back, and smiled up into his eyes. “I’m just happy, that’s all.”

“Me, too.” Michael gave her a silly grin. “The music’s stopped.”

“I know. Does it make any difference?”

“Not really.”

Michael pulled her a little closer, and Vera molded her body to his. The vodka didn’t seem to be affecting him where it counted, and she’d give him a little time to sober up, after they got inside the beach house. She’d worked out all the times with her older brother. He’d come crashing in the bedroom door at precisely three A.M., and he’d find them in a very compromis ing position. Michael’s parents would pay to keep it quiet. Vera was sure of that. Mr. and Mrs. Warden already had to live with the fact that Michael was a former mental patient. They certainly wouldn’t want him charged with rape, on top of everything else!

“It’s cold out here.” Vera smiled up at Michael and gave a little shiver. “Let’s go inside where it’s warm.”

Michael nodded. “Okay . . . whatever you say, Vera. Can we make coffee? My head’s spinning around in circles.”

“Of course we can.” Vera clamped her arm around Michael’s waist and led him to the staircase. “Come on, Michael. Climb the steps.”

“Right.”

Michael almost missed the first step, but Vera caught him before he fell. He was really whacked out of his mind. Maybe a little coffee was a good idea. She wanted him to remember making love to her so he could convince his parents that it had ac tually happened.

It took almost ten minutes to get Michael up the stairs, and Vera was panting by the time they reached the beach house. She guided Michael to the couch, and pushed him down on the soft cushions. “Wait right here, Michael. I’ll make the coffee and bring you a cup.”

Michael shook his head and tried to clear it. He felt awful, and he needed some air. Dimly, he remem bered Vera telling him that she was going to the kitchen to make coffee. That was good. A cup of coffee might make him feel better.

Even though all he wanted to do was sink back against the couch cushions and go to sleep, Michael forced himself to get up. His head was throbbing painfully, and he wondered whether he was coming down with the flu. He’d felt just fine when he’d ar rived at the party, but now he was as sick as a dog.

Maybe some air would help. Michael staggered out through the door, and stumbled to the railing overlooking the beach. The breeze blowing in from the ocean helped a little, and he took deep breaths of the cool night air.

The caterers had left the chairs and tables. They’d probably pick them up in the morning. They’d left the bar, too. Michael moistened his dry lips, and frowned slightly. He was terribly thirsty, and a fruit drink would taste good right now. Had they left the bottles of juice behind the bar?

There was only one way to find out. Michael took another deep breath and made his way to the stair case. The steps were steep and they seemed to stretch out for miles until they finally ended at the edge of the beach. Was it worth the effort? He wouldn’t know unless he tried to walk down them.

Cautiously, Michael walked down the first step. That wasn’t so bad. His hands gripped the rail as he climbed down another step, and then another. He didn’t think about how steep the staircase was, he just thought about the prize at the other end. A cold glass of pineapple juice, or maybe some orange and banana mixed together. The bartender had come up with all sorts of tasty combinations, and all of them had been wonderful.

It seemed to take forever, but at last Michael reached the bottom step. Then his feet hit the beach, and he smiled. He’d made it. The wet sand stuck to the side of his shoes, and he took them off to walk barefoot across the beach to the bar.

The bottles of juice were right where he’d ex pected them to be, in the tubs of ice behind the bar. Michael found a leftover bottle of orange juice and he swigged it down, right out of the bottle. The tangy juice made his taste buds tingle, and he searched through the watery ice for more. That was when he found it, a bottle of vodka that was almost empty.

Michael stared down at the bottle and frowned. Since almost everyone at the party had been under age, Vera had promised that no booze would be served. But here was a bottle of vodka, and it was almost gone. Someone had been drinking. But who?

There was a name on the bottle, and Michael held it up to read it in the bright moonlight. It said, Mi chael Warden, and Michael was sure it was Vera’s handwriting. But he hadn’t brought any booze to the party. And he hadn’t had anything to drink, unless . . .

Michael groaned as his head throbbed again. Now he knew why he felt so sick. The bartender had been spiking his fruit drinks with vodka all night. Vera had deliberately tried to get him drunk, and he didn’t like that at all. No wonder he’d had trouble climbing down the staircase! He’d finished almost a whole bottle of vodka!

But why had Vera spiked his drinks? Michael frowned deeply. He was in no condition to think about it now. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be anywhere near Vera. If he’d been sober, he would have climbed in his car and gone straight home, but Michael knew he was in no shape to drive. Hell, he couldn’t even walk very well, or he’d seriously think about setting out on foot.

What to do? Michael’s mind spun in crazy circles. Carla had given him a perfect excuse to leave when she’d told him she’d had car trouble. Now he wished he’d insisted on driving her home, instead of staying here with Vera. Even though he was still suffering from the effects of the vodka, Michael knew one thing for sure. He certainly wasn’t going back to the beach house. Vera must have had some reason to spike his drinks, and there was no way he’d be a willing participant in whatever it was that she’d planned.

The bartender had left his jacket, and Michael slipped it on to stay warm. Then he found a stack of clean towels behind the bar, and he bunched them up for a pillow. As he curled up behind the bar on his makeshift bed, Michael gave a lopsided grin. Vera didn’t know where he was. She was probably still in the kitchen, making the coffee. He’d stay right here and sack out behind the bar until he was sober enough to drive home.

It took a long time to make the coffee. Vera had to search through the cupboards to find the coffee, and figure out how to use her aunt’s coffeemaker. It was the old-fashioned percolator type, and she stood at the kitchen counter for what seemed like hours, listening to the coffee perk, and waiting until it was strong enough.

Finally, the coffee was ready, and Vera poured out two cups. She set them on a tray, and carried them out to the living room.

“Here it is. I made you some nice, strong . . .“ Vera stopped in her tracks as she saw the empty couch. “Michael? Where are you?”

The bathroom. The minute Vera thought of it, she raced to the bathroom to look. But Michael wasn’t there. The room was deserted.

The bedroom? Vera climbed the steps to the sec ond floor to check all three of the bedrooms, but they were empty. She even looked in the closets, but Mi chael was nowhere in the beach house.

“Oh, my God!” Vera’s face turned pale. Had Mi chael driven home? She rushed to the window to peer out and gave a deep sigh of relief as she saw Michael’s car. He was still here . . . somewhere. A glance at the clock told her she had over an hour to find him. There was no need to panic. He’d prob ably gone for a walk on the beach. But what if she couldn’t find him in time? She was counting on the money she’d get from Michael’s parents to pay for modeling school. All her plans would be ruined if her brother crashed through the bedroom door and Michael wasn’t in bed with her!

“Michael?” Vera tried to keep the panic out of her voice, as she ran out to check Michael’s car. Perhaps he’d climbed into the backseat and passed out. But Michael’s car was locked up tight and she could see that there was no one inside. He wasn’t inside her car, either, and that meant he had to be somewhere on the beach.

Vera retraced her steps, and went out on the patio to survey the empty beach. There was no one in sight, but she could see two objects at the bottom of the steps. She ran down the staircase and began to smile as she saw what they were. Michael’s shoes. He’d kicked them off and gone for a walk. He’d probably be back any minute, but she couldn’t count on that. She had to find him . . . now!

Since the beach was private, it was fenced off all the way to the water line. But her aunt owned a half mile of beach front, and Michael could be anywhere inside the perimeter.

Vera had thought it was great when her aunt had bought the expensive beach house. It just proved that there were lots of gullible people who were eager to part with their money. Aunt Luba, who didn’t have a drop of Gypsy blood in her, had set herself up as a Gypsy psychic. She’d raked in the cash for giving readings, healing all sorts of ailments, and putting people in touch with their dead loved ones. Of course Aunt Luba was a fake, but only Vera’s family knew that.

Right now Vera wished that her aunt hadn’t made quite so much money, or bought such a big beach front property. If Aunt Luba had settled for a little bungalow in Van Nuys, Vera could have found Mi chael in no time flat.

“Michael?” Vera started off on her walk along the shore, calling out softly. “Michael? Where are you?”

But there was no answer, and Vera sighed. He’d probably passed out somewhere, and she’d have to look behind every bush and palm tree to find him.

Vera had been searching for almost ten minutes, when she heard it. There was a rustling sound that seemed to be coming from a huge clump of sea grass behind her. She turned and started back, intending to part the grass and see if Michael was there. But the rustling stopped abruptly as she approached.

The breeze blowing off the ocean was chilling. Vera shivered a little as she arrived at the edge of the tall sea grass. There had been something very omi nous about that rustling noise, something that made her want to turn and run back to the safety of the beach house.