"Why didn't you try out for it in senior high?" Meg asked. "You'd have beat me out for sure. My dad used to say I couldn't walk and chew gum at the same time."

  Stacy's grin evaporated. "The real reason? Because Andrea became captain of the squad in the eighth grade, and I couldn't stand her. I knew she'd be a cheerleader through high school, because she was good at tumbling. I wasn't. And she didn't like me anyway. She'd have made my life hell."

  "Like she did ours?" Nikki tossed out. "Aha. So, it was all your fault, Stacy Michaels—oops, Wallace."

  "Sorry." Stacy let out a chuckle. "Find anything?"

  "Nope. Wait, a ring?" Nikki held it out. It was a princess-cut pink topaz with side-stones. "This is beautiful."

  Stacy put it on. It still fit, and she frowned, wiggling it back and forth in the dim light. "It was given to me by a boy in the tenth grade. He left me for another girl on the team. Don't ask me who."

  Nikki stared at her. "Don't tell me. It wasn't who I think it was, was it?"

  "I won't tell you." Stacy took it off and tossed it back into the box. "But it had happened earlier in the eighth grade. She threatened me over that one. It was another reason I didn't try out in high school. Here. If you're finished with that box, here's another."

  "Slave driver." Nikki's eyes twinkled with mirth.

  "Bingo!" Meg held up something shiny, and Stacy nodded. "You found it! How many are there?"

  "Looks like sophomore through senior years. I don't see a freshman." She handed over the books, grinning.

  "Are there any photos in there with them?"

  Meg rifled through the box further. "I don't see any. I think I might have some at home, but I don't know where they are."

  "I have some," Nikki added. "And I know where those are. Maybe Scott will let us go and get them."

  Meg's brows knitted slightly. "Don't bank on it. Matt might insist on going, but he wouldn't let me. I know that for certain." She rolled her eyes. "He's driving me nuts with his over-protective nature. When this is over…" she trailed off, glancing at Nikki and then Stacy.

  "When this is over," Nikki added, "I wonder how many of the smashing seven will be dead."

  Meg and Stacy both drew in a sharp breath and sat back in silence.

  "Dear God, Nikki," Stacy murmured under her breath finally.

  "It's true. Scott thinks I'm being melodramatic, but he has no idea what it's like to be targeted."

  Meg's voice was soft. "Nikki, maybe he's just trying to keep you from worrying. He cares what happens to you. Deeply."

  Nikki shook her head. "Maybe," she said quietly.

  "I think perhaps we should take these downstairs." Stacy spoke up, looking from one to the other.

  Meg nodded, rising to her feet, and Nikki followed her to the door. Stacy came down last, closing the attic room up behind her. A moment later, she stopped. "Meg, are you and Matt comfortable up here?"

  "Yes, it's perfect. Honestly."

  "Good. If you need anything at all, please let me know. Nikki? How is the basement?"

  "Very comfortable, thank you."

  "Okay."

  Stacy took the yearbooks to Mason as they reached the great room. "We found them," she said softly. "Actually, Meg found them."

  Mason took them, asking to see photos of each of the girls in the group individually and together, and Meg showed them to him. After the seventh, she asked for the book, and turned it to the page with Heather's picture. "Heather made the eighth," she added, "but Andrea never recognized her as being part of the group, even though she was on the cheerleading squad."

  Mason scowled. "So, she deliberately ignored her?"

  "Not exactly. She just never quite accepted her."

  "But," added Nikki, "you had to know Andrea. Everything was all about her. See?"

  Mason shook his head. "Not really. But I understand girls are bad about having cliques. It's sad. Boys would just smack each other upside the head and be done with it."

  The remark was so unlike anything Meg had ever heard Mason say. She threw back her head and howled with laughter, and Stacy rolled her eyes.

  "He waxes so eloquently, doesn't he?" She rose to her feet. "Coffee anyone?"

  Matt nodded. "Please."

  "I'll help you, Stacy," Meg offered.

  But Nikki was scowling at the pages in the yearbook. "Oh, for Pete's sake," she groaned. "All the new digital equipment the school bought that year, and the prom pictures were in black and white? What's wrong with those people?"

  Meg moved toward the yearbook. "I never noticed it, but you're right. The next page has some on it, too."

  Nikki turned the page over. But it was the same. There was one scene of the decorations in color, but the rest of the pictures that contained the students were in black and white. "I've got some in color. If I can go home tomorrow, I'll bring them back with me."

  Scott was shaking his head. "No, sweet cheeks. Tell me where they are, and I'll make a run home tomorrow and get them."

  Nikki immediately met Meg's leveled stare at her. "Um, I think they're in the bedroom closet. There's a box in the top shelf, in the corner."

  "Okay. I'll get it tomorrow. But you're not to go over there—for any reason."

  Nikki turned away and moved toward the kitchen, but as she arrived, her mouth broke into a broad smile. "Okay," she answered.

  "Told you." Meg's brow rose.

  "Yeah," Nikki whispered back. "You did."

  Chapter 12

  Matt left at noon to go and check on things at the office, and he warned all of the ladies not to leave home. He tilted Meg's chin upward as he left and stared down into her face.

  "I hate leaving you here with no protection. You have your firearm with you?"

  She nodded. "Yes. Don't worry, Matt. We'll be fine. I know Nikki is armed, and I'm sure Stacy is, too."

  "I'll be back within an hour."

  "We'll be fine," Meg repeated, nodding. "Go."

  She stood, watching as he backed the car out of the garage and then pushed the button to bring the door down. Wandering back into the house, she stopped at the island where Stacy had a dozen different ingredients set out. Her head was buried in the fridge.

  "What are you looking for?" Meg was grinning now.

  "The onions. I know I bought some before you all came to stay, and I haven't used them yet." Stacy paused. "What's that?"

  A groan escaped Meg. "Sounds like my phone, He hasn't gotten a half a mile away before calling. I swear." She sighed as she hunted up her purse and yanked the phone out of it.

  "Hello?" Her voice clearly had a ring of irritation to it.

  There was a pause.

  "Meg?"

  Meg held out the phone, staring at it. She'd been expecting Matt's voice. Instead, a female voice spoke.

  "Meg? It's Heather. Is this a bad time?"

  "Oh, Heather, I'm sorry. Matt just left. I thought it might be him calling back. He's been hovering over me a lot the last few weeks. How are you?"

  "I'm not surprised. It's the same here with Pierce. I know he's just worried, but still," her voice changed. "I haven't seen you since Chelsea's funeral. Have you heard about Amber and Mellie and Hannah?"

  "Yes."

  "It's killing me. I'm scared to death, Meg. I don't know what to do."

  "I understand."

  "Is Nikki with you? Where are you? I called the office and they said you were both gone this week, but no one seemed to know why, and I was so worried something had happened to you, too."

  "We're fine, please don't worry. Just take care of yourself, okay? Be careful, and don't go anywhere at night alone. If you're downtown at the restaurant, have someone you trust walk you out to your car." Meg knew she was babbling, but if she could, she wanted to keep from disclosing her location.

  The truth was she felt terrible for not telling Heather where she was staying, but Matt had been adamant about that. Noticing that Stacy was watching her curiously, she smiled and grabbed a notepad from her purse and a pen.

  Heather, she wrote.

  Stacy nodded, but at the same time, took the pen and scribbled, Don't tell her where you are.

  It was just in time. Three seconds later, Heather asked again.

  Meg sighed. "Oh, honey, I can't tell you. It would endanger you if you knew. I'm just worried about you. If someone was trying to get at us, they might grab you. Don't tell me where you are, but please, tell me you're not staying at home, either."

  There was a long pause. Finally, Heather's defeated voice came through the phone. "I'm not. It's okay if you don't want to tell me where you are. I just wanted to know you're all right." Heather said goodbye with a muffled sob, and Meg felt terrible. Sitting down at the island, she stared out through the patio door.

  "She was crying when she hung up," she said in a voice barely audible. "She thinks I don't trust her."

  "You couldn't tell her, sweetie," Stacy said softly. "It would have endangered not just you and Nikki, but us, too."

  "I know. It was just…" She finished by shaking her head.

  Meg spent the rest of the afternoon with a heavy heart. Matt returned from the office, pausing to plant a kiss on the top of her head.

  "How's my girl?"

  She attempted a smile. "All right."

  Almost immediately he paused, tilting her chin upward, and frowned.

  Meg shivered. She knew that look. It said quite plainly, "You're keeping something from me. We'll talk about this later."

  "I'm back." Scott's voice spoke from the doorway. "I found the box, but I left it in the car. Where's Nikki?"

  "She's downstairs, nursing a headache," Stacy offered. "Supper's almost ready, but Mason called. He'll be a little late." It was then, they heard the front door opening. She moved toward the great room. "And then again, maybe not."

  Meg turned to glance at Mason as he entered. He wore a disturbed expression on his face.

  "Hi, sweetheart," he murmured. "I decided to bring the stuff home and work on it here."

  Stacy reached a hand up to touch his cheek. "We've been snacking all afternoon. We'd have waited anyway. Productive day?"

  He frowned, glancing around the room and holding up his briefcase. "Yes. And no."

  Nikki's footsteps were heard, and she appeared at the top of the steps to the basement, glancing up at Scott. "Did you find the box with the pictures in it?"

  Scott nodded, holding out his arms. "I found the box, but I don't know about pictures. The yearbooks were on the top. How's your headache?"

  Nikki moved into his arms. "Better."

  "Good," he said. "And by the way, it's blue today."

  Nikki craned her neck to look up at him. "The lion?"

  "Yes. The color of your winter coat."

  "Royal blue," Nikki echoed. A moment later, she tilted her head to one side. "Who in the world paints a gargoyle lion royal blue?"

  "Pierce and Heather. Or their gardener, apparently," Matt answered, chuckling.

  "Maybe she's advertising," Meg added.

  When the others turned and stared at her, she continued. "The name of her restaurant is The Blue Lion."

  Mason nodded, a look of recognition crossing his face. "Does anyone else besides me think that's an odd name for a restaurant? We've already been there to do interviews. We didn't expect to find anything, but since all the girls in the smashing seven had been there at the same time, we thought we'd see what the employees' impression of them was." He leaned back. "The only one of them who actually had any interaction with the ladies was a little server named Abby."

  "She was such a cutie," Nikki added.

  Mason eyed her. "She was scared to death. She said Andrea Woods had been to the restaurant since the luncheon, looking for Heather. When she said that Heather wasn't there that day, the woman became irritated and demanded to know where she was. Abby said she didn't know, and Woods stormed out. She hasn't been back since." He glanced down at Stacy. "The place smelled almost as good as it does around here at dinner time."

  "It's horrendously expensive," Stacy added, "from what I hear."

  No one else spoke, and Mason looked curiously from one to the next. He said nothing, but Meg had the impression he had the urge to ask more questions.

  Stacy had dinner set up buffet style, and they filled their plates and moved into the dining room. But there was an air of urgency hanging over them, and they ate hurriedly before moving into the great room.

  Scott brought in the box Nikki had sent him after.

  "Here you go," he said, sitting down with it in his lap. "Nikki, you can be the one to open it." He patted the seat next to him. Stacy and Mason sat next to them, and Matt moved the Queen Anne chair closer and sat down, pulling Meg into his lap.

  Being held so close to him was troubling. She knew she'd have to tell him about the phone call. And she knew he'd ask for her notes, since he hadn't been there. When she glanced up at him, his face still held that look. He knew she was keeping something from him; she could feel it.

  "Okay." Nikki pulled back the flap on the top of the box. A bronze-colored book lay on the top, and she picked it up. "Here's the one from my freshman year, since we didn't find Stacy's." The book fell open to the page of students, and she laughed. "Oh my. This was my class picture that year."

  Hovering closer, all of them leaned forward to look at it.

  "You haven't changed a bit, sweet chi—" Scott stopped when she glared at him and held up both hands in defense. "Sweetheart."

  Nikki gave him a scathing glance before moving her gaze back down to the yearbook.

  "Gosh," Stacy exclaimed. "You haven't."

  "And all the rest of us have gotten old," Meg added, grinning.

  "Not you." Stacy was shaking her head in disagreement.

  "Let me see it a moment." Meg took the yearbook and turned over a few pages. "Mason needs to see this one."

  The picture of the home-economics department came up. In the front, was a much younger Stacy standing over a pot with a wooden spoon in her hand and tasting what it held.

  Meg passed it to Mason, who stared down at it and smiled. "It's adorable."

  Stacy rolled her eyes. "Right."

  Nikki took it back and turned to the cheerleading squad, finding a picture. She and Meg were standing on the back row, almost hidden by Andrea, who stood in the front. A younger Meg was wearing extremely thick glasses, accompanied by a wide smile.

  Matt cocked his head to see it better. "Who decided where everyone stood? The taller ones should have been standing in the back."

  Nikki gave him a sly glance. "The tall one in the front did. She was head of the squad. She decided everything, and nobody was about to argue with her."

  Matt shook his head. At the same time, Mason pointed to the girl on the end. "Who was that?"

  Meg peered down at it. "Heather Hall. She married Pierce Hicks, the coroner."

  "That was Heather?" Matt leaned forward to look more closely.

  "Yep. Kids used to call her the ugly duckling," Stacy said softly. "Kids can be so cruel."

  Nikki nodded. "But she grew up into a beautiful swan, didn't she?" she added. "When we went to the class reunion, Meg had to tell me who she was. I didn't even recognize her."

  There was a moment's silence, and Stacy said quietly, "She called here this afternoon."

  In Matt's lap, Meg could feel him stiffen. His hands tightened around her. There was a tone of unhappy surprise in his voice when he spoke. "She called here?"

  A shake of Stacy's head answered. "Not exactly here. She called Meg on her cell phone."

  Meg closed her eyes, waiting for Matt's response, but knowing it would be guarded in front of the others. When she opened them, he was studying her intently. His eyes showed disappointment, and her heart plummeted.

  "What did she say?" Mason spoke next.

  It was disconcerting. His voice sounded as stern as Matt's did. In halting words, she told him, trying to ignore her husband's stare down at her.

  Matt leaned forward, saying in her ear, "Did you write it down, like I asked you to?"

  Slowly, and full of guilt, she shook her head.

  "I see."

  Nikki tried to regain their attention. "Look. I found the prom pictures. I was right; they were in the bottom of the box. These are in color."

  Meg was breathing hard as she turned to look at them. The photograph had faded over the years, but the colors were still visible.

  "That's what you wore to the prom?" Matt's voice, beside her, reverberated in her ear.

  She nodded. "Yes. Mom made it for me."

  "Beautiful," he breathed. "A little revealing, but beautiful. Nikki, do you mind if I borrow this for a bit?"

  A stare from Nikki answered. "As long as I get them back."

  Matt moved a hand to his chest. "I promise."

  She giggled. "You'd better." she said, leaning toward him to hand it over. "I know where you live, you know."

  A laugh from the others relieved the tension briefly as Matt took the picture, studying it. Meg watched him. There was an uneasiness to his focus she didn't understand.

  Nikki pulled out the yearbook from their senior year and began flipping pages back and forth until she found the homecoming dance. But those pictures, too, were mostly in black and white. A large picture of Andrea dancing with Johnny dominated the page. But in the background, was Meg, on her knees. The frame of her glasses held loosely in one hand, she was picking up something off the floor.

  "Your glasses." Matt was the first to notice.

  She nodded soulfully. "It was right after she obliterated them."

  "She looks like the cat that got the canary," Stacy said, frowning. "There's more to her smile than just the joy of dancing with her favorite guy."

  Nikki let out a giggle. "I doubt Johnny would like being referred to as a canary," she said, "but she did get him, even if it didn't last."

  They continued going through the pictures, until Mason looked around the room. "If it's all right, I'd like to keep these here for a few days. I have a feeling there's a clue somewhere, tucked away in those four years of your lives. And I have an interview scheduled tomorrow that should be interesting."

  Matt leaned forward. "With whom?"

 

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