Page 46 of Just Killing Time

Everyone in downtown Derryville, it seemed, had put on their Sunday finest for today’s show. Women were wearing Easter dresses complete with flowered hats. Ellen Snipes was wearing her grandmother’s wedding dress—aged lace, moth-holes and all.

She even swore she saw Al, who owned the diner, dressed in a black suit that looked suspiciously like his ancient tux. The one he’d been wearing during his wedding to Louisa Jean Mayfair, who’d up and left him with a stack of bills and the diner so she could go off to the big city and become a famous hair salon owner. Al had been pretty far away, though, so she couldn’t tell for sure.

Nitwits. A bunch of nitwits. Most of them didn’t seem to care that they were wasting an entire Saturday, just for a chance to get on TV.

She hated that they were all obsessed. She hated more that she had no part in it. Everyone seemed to have forgotten how things were supposed to be done around here.

It was while staring into a crowd of people gathered outside the bank that she saw a face she recognized. She froze, certain she was imagining things. Then she inched closer to the window, leaning toward the glass to get a better look.

The crowd shifted, moved, parted. And she saw the face again.

“Impossible,” she whispered, wondering frantically if the group was cast or crew, onlookers or journalists.

“What?”

She didn’t even respond to Maxine, because she’d suddenly begun to shiver.Of all places, of all people.

A cold finger of fear curved up her back. Fear of her past. Fear for her future. Fear of that person—someone who had no business being here.

Slowly, quietly, not even caring that Maxine might think her rude, Hester slipped away from the window, through the store and out the back door. It was all she could do to remain calm as she walked away, through the alley toward the church. She kept looking over her shoulder, thinking, wondering.

I might not be recognized. Of course I wouldn’t.

But what if she were? What if she hadn’t changed enough, hadn’t gone far enough? Heaven help her if that was the case.

Because being recognized might very well cost her her life.

“I THINK THE cook from the diner dug up his dead grandfather to get that suit.”

Caro whirled around from the small desk where she’d been sitting and saw Jacey Turner, the lead camera operator, wearing a look of bemusement. Following the young woman’s stare out the window of the RV—which they’d moved downtown for today’s shoot—Caro saw the diner owner in question. He wore an ancient-looking tux with a yellowed dress shirt. The pants were a few inches too short, the jacket much too tight. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I’d say he fits in just as well as everyone else here.”

Jacey probably heard the note of resignation in her voice. Caro couldn’t help it. Resigned to lunacy. Lunacy on the set. Lunacy in her private life. Lunacy all around.

“Why on earth did all these people show up dressed like this?”

“I have no idea. Renauld is having a hysterical fit right now over by the fountain. Not only is it supposed to be sometime near Halloween, it’s also supposed to be this century.”

Jacey snorted a laugh. When she did so, her face softened, making her look much more the early-twenties young woman Caro knew her to be. And less the vampire wannabe.

When she smiled, Jacey was very pretty. Not that the girl would appreciate hearing it. Aside from being a kick-ass camera operator, Jacey was known for one other thing: her attitude.

“So, you’ve finished your meetings with all the cast members?”

Caro nodded. She’d been holding half-hour meetings with all sixteen of the starting cast members forKilling Time in a Small Townsince yesterday. During one of those sessions, she’d told the killer—who was from now on to be called the Derryville Demon—about being chosen.

“How do you feel about the choice for the Demon?” Jacey wasn’t the type to nose around for information—she just seemed interested in knowing how Caro felt about it. That made sense. Jacey would want to know things were going in the right direction, even though she and the rest of the crew would know nothing about the identity of the killer until at least the final round.

“I was surprised at first when I finally found out yesterday. But when I looked over the test scores, and the personality profile, it did make sense.”

Jacey nodded. “Good.” Then she grinned. “Don’t suppose you’d want to give me a hint about who it is?”

“Nope. The studio wants to retain that fresh, unexpected feel. That means no advance notice to the crew. Sorry.”

“I thought not. But it was worth a shot,” Jacey replied, her voice still laced with good humor.

“Are you all ready?”

“You bet,” Jacey said. “We’ve got dedicated crews for the four teams going out today.”

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