"There's only darkness...shadows... Kelly, remember that you start off confident, then begin to feel the menace of the night, of something not quite right," Joe Penny directed.
"Four...three..." Grant Idle, the assistant director, mouthed the last two numbers in the countdown, his fingers raised. Kelly Trent could barely see him. Because it was supposed to be night, there were areas of pure darkness surrounding the intricately planned lighting. She knew, however, that beyond Grant, Joe and the camera, sound and lighting personnel, there was still something of a crowd. Matt Avery, one of her least favorite people in the world, was there with some of the other executives from Household Heaven, the giant mega-cleaning-product corporation that was the major sponsor behind the show. There were guests, friends of Joe Penny, as well as a few people her agent had brought.
Videotaping a popular soap opera was surely one of the strangest ventures in a world that was already strange. Sometimes the sets were closed. Other times it seemed as if they were having a party and anyone could attend. Usually they filmed in the studio; it was cost-effective to do so. Tonight, however, they were out at Hibiscus Point, a man-made private development where they had been all day, filming every exterior shot they could in a matter of hours.
They weren't on anything that resembled a high-traffic public street, because the first houses hadn't even been sold. In fact, many of the high-priced lots remained empty. And the property they were using was high on a hill, rather remote. Still, it seemed as if they were at a busy crossroads, though many of the cars and people hovering behind the cameras had nothing to do with the actual production. Kelly didn't mind one way or the other. She'd been a part of this world for far too long to do anything other than go with the flow and, for the most part, enjoy herself. However, she did find it strange. The producers had put out a gag order regarding the shoot, so presumably, no one but those involved should have known that they would be working outside the studio. But given the number of people around, they might as well have posted an announcement in Billboard.
On cue, she exited the driver's seat of the BMW parked in the driveway, decked to the nines as Marla Valentine. She allowed the car door to slam behind her. And though Marla was supposedly doing nothing more than returning to her home, she paused, adjusted her skirt and straightened her hair. After all, Marla was a Valentine. To the Valentines, appearance meant the world. She was one of the three redheaded sisters who ruled the valley, through scandal after scandal, affair after affair.
A few steps across dirt and she reached the tiled path to the door of the cliffside bungalow. For a moment — without batting an eye or displaying so much as a hint of a smile — she felt a certain amusement. Marla Valentine should have been fair play for criticism just for the shoes she chose to wear. The stiletto heels weren't so bad in the studio. But here, on location, they were murder themselves. She had to take great care with every step. First, because if she didn't, she'd sink right into the earth, and then because they'd be as loud as an exploding bomb on the tile. But whatever Marla Valentine's shoes, she reflected, she loved her job. Melodrama was simply fun, most of the time. Hard work, but fun. And when they finished here tonight, they were on a three-week hiatus. Which didn't actually mean she was off next week, though, for a number of the actors were going to be guests at a theme park for Soap Week.
She paused, just as she had been directed, and acted out a niggling feeling rising in Marla at the first hint of danger — the slightest tightening of her brow, the faintest frown indicating that she was perplexed.
She looked ahead at the door. The front light, which should have been on, was off. And despite the camera lights, it seemed dark. There was the softest whisper of a breeze that night, just enough to ruffle the trees and give a strange,barely audible whistle to the air.
She had to admit, she was having fun being Marla Valentine now. After many seasons in which Marla had been the nice sister, the shy sister, the used sister, she had developed a streak of nastiness that was pure entertainment. And now Marla was finally facing danger. She'd gotten very tough, so surely she would face it well and come back fighting.
Kelly took a step, then played up her character's sense of un-ease. She squared her shoulders, as if she had put down the demons of hesitance and fear.She started walking again,keys in her hands. She wasn't going to run away from her own front door.
But then she paused, as if uncertain once again. From the corner of her eyes, she could see one cameraman moving around to her left, the other to her right. The focus was on her, then on the door, the bushes, the shadows...
Lights stung Kelly's eyes for a moment, but Marla Valentine convinced herself that there was nothing there. Just as Kelly had been directed. Just as she had rehearsed.
She climbed the steps in her stiletto heels. Then, on cue, her attacker appeared from the shadow of the bushes to her right.
Hugh Thompson was the ultimate pro. Stuntman for dozens of shows and movies, he was a solid six foot four. Tonight, he was clad in black from head to toe, a ski mask covering everything but his eyes, a black coat concealing the rest of his frame. Standing perfectly still, he might have been taken for a shadow.
She screamed. It was a damned good scream, she reflected ruefully, but then, in truth, his appearance was rather frightening. He lunged for her and she spun around. Though they were often able to do their takes without so much as a run-through, they had rehearsed this scene several times. She didn't come straight down the steps, but headed for the mound of earth on the side.
Hugh should have caught her. And she should have been there to catch. Instead, the pile of earth gave way. To her astonishment, she had no footing whatsoever. In sneakers, she might have had a chance. But in the stiletto heels, she went down. And with nothing to stop her, she began to roll.
For a moment, pure panic seized Kelly. The house was on a cliff. If she kept rolling and rolling... She was vaguely aware of screams coming from the rest of the cast and crew. Hugh was shouting.They all seemed very far away.Dirt and grass were tearing at her. She felt a sharp pain as her elbow hit something, then her knee. She saw a branch and made a mad grasp for it. The rough limb burned her palms, but she held fast. Her impetus halted, she was able to inch along and catch hold of the tree with the low-hanging branch.
One of the stiletto heels was already gone. She kicked off the other and struggled to her feet. Turning around, she saw the edge of the cliff, not very far away at all, deceptive in the darkness. Her knees nearly gave on her again. Her fear was so deep that it truly seemed her heart leaped to her throat and a chill weakened the length of her body. Sheer physical reaction to the manner of her near-death raked her limbs.
Hugh Thompson reached her first. "Kelly!" Despite the knit ski mask, his voice boomed with concern.
"I'm fine!" she called quickly, shaking like a leaf.
He caught up to her and pulled her back toward the house, half lifting her. "Kelly, jeez!" he breathed.
"Hugh, please, put me down. I'm fine, really. I just don't understand...that little mound by the porch was solid as rock before!"
"You can never trust the ground in California!" Hugh said, shaking his head. "Oh, man, Kelly, I about had a heart attack there, watching you go down!"
By then Joe Penny had reached them, his perfect silver hair nearly standing on end. He looked as white as a ghost. "Kelly...Kelly!" He threw his arms around her, shaking. Camera and light crews followed him, along with people from costume and makeup, and the two extras with whom Marla Valentine had recently conversed.
"Joe, everyone, please, I'm fine. Of course, I must look like muddy hell, but hey, I can wash up!" Then she heard the sound of a siren and looked at Joe with concern. "Please tell me you didn't call an ambulance!"
"Kelly, you might have been killed!" Joe said, shaking his head, his face still ashen. "My God, I went over all this myself. What on earth...?"
"Like Hugh says, it's California!" Kelly said cheerfully.
"You're bleeding," Hugh said. She looked down at her knee."It's just a scratch.Really,I'm fine."
"You could be clamoring for workmen's comp!" one of the extras called out, attempting a note of levity.
"A paid vacation in the Caribbean," Hugh agreed lightly.
"But I'm fine!" she protested again. "Please, guys. Thank you all so much for your concern, but I'm not hurt!"
"Oh, my God, Kelly!" That came from Matt Avery, who had just made his way through the crowd surrounding her. She was glad that she wasn't gasping for air — she certainly wouldn't have gotten any! And then...Matt.
He reached for her, drawing her into the shadow of his arms. Matt Avery was tall and good-looking, with a smooth manner, a deep, rich voice and an easy charm that attracted women of all ages. Women just tended to gravitate to him. But as he tilted her chin upward, she fought very hard not to let him hear the grinding of her teeth.
"Kelly, good God! Are you all right?"
She tried to extricate herself politely. "Please, please, everyone. I swear to you, I'm fine."
"The ambulance is here," Joe said firmly.
"But I don't —"
"Kelly!" Her agent, Mel Alton, burst through the crowd then. She smiled because she knew that his concern was for her and not his ten percent.
"She's getting into that ambulance!" Joe insisted.
"I'll hop in with her," Mel said tersely.
"Look, we can finish the scene —" Kelly tried.
"Are you crazy?" Joe demanded."Kelly, you're bleeding!" He hesitated."Besides, the scene actually...well, what we've got on camera is amazing. But you! You're getting checked out, and then you're going home!"
"My knee is scratched!" she protested. "I don't need to be checked out."
"Kelly, we may not know what else is wrong right now. A doctor must see you," Matt Avery said firmly.
"She could probably sue," someone from the crowd muttered, and an uneasy silence followed.
Joe quickly managed a dry laugh. "Kelly, you'll need to get checked out...for insurance purposes, all that." He suddenly looked stricken. "I hope you're all right! You're due in Florida, at the theme park, on Tuesday!"
"I'll be there," Kelly said.
"Not if it jeopardizes your health!" Joe said.
She was fairly certain that he was sincere. Joe was a character. So were most of the people with whom she worked. Still, they'd been together a long time,and she believed that he did care about her.
Once again, Kelly tried to reassure everyone. "I'm fine." But it didn't seem to matter. The police had arrived along with the ambulance.
"Kelly, this is the way it has to go," Joe said.
She knew that he was right. The show couldn't afford a lawsuit, so the least minor accident required an investigation.
A gentle officer with graying hair and a kindly manner quizzed Kelly as she was seated in the ambulance.Mel hopped in with her. Like Joe, he was more than a co-worker. He was a friend, almost a father figure to her. He grinned, but looked a little worried.
Continues...
Excerpted from Killing Kellyby Heather Graham Copyright © 2006 by Heather Graham. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.