they’d begun to play for real? Begun to confuse fantasy and reality?
Could Cassie have gotten unwittingly pulled into that game?
A powerful tool in the wrong hands.
So many things in life were. Power. Guns. Money. Almost anything.
She considered the scenario Leonardo had painted: some wacko playing a fantasy role-playing game for real. A game in which the only way to win was to kill off the other characters, then face the White Rabbit himself—face the one controlling the game, the ultimate trickster.
A real-life White Rabbit.
The connection between Cassie and the scenario Leonardo Noble painted was flimsy at best, but she couldn’t help but wonder if the two were related.
Stranger things had happened.
Last year in Dallas.
Billie sauntered over with a plate of samples. Chocolate chip muffins, Stacy saw. Rich, dark chocolate. Billie’s sample plate and the timing of its appearance was a running joke among the regulars. If there was trouble brewing or juicy dish to be had, the sample plate came out. Billie seemed to innately know the right moment—and the right pastry—to share.
Billie smiled the enigmatic smile that had helped her snare four husbands, including her present spouse, ninety-year-old millionaire Rocky St. Martin. “Muffin?”
Stacy helped herself to a piece of the pastry, knowing full well the treat wasn’t free. Billie expected payment—in the form of information.
Sure enough, Billie set the plate on the table, pulled out a chair and sat. “Who was he and what did he want?”
“Leonardo Noble. He wanted to hire me.”
Billie arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow and nudged the plate of muffin pieces closer to Stacy.
Stacy laughed, took another and slid the plate back toward the other woman. “It has to do with Cassie. Sort of.”
“I thought so. Explain.”
“Remember what I told you about Cassie having set up a meeting with a White Rabbit?” The other woman nodded. “That man, Leonardo Noble, is the inventor of the game.”
Stacy saw interest flare in her eyes. “Go on.”
“Since we talked last, I’ve found out more about the game. That it’s dark and violent. That the White Rabbit and the last player alive play to the death.”
“Charming.”
Stacy explained about the postcards the man had received, about his theory that someone had begun playing the game for real. “I know it sounds out there, but—”
“But it could happen,” Billie filled in for her. She leaned toward Stacy. “Studies have shown that in people for whom the line between fantasy and reality is blurred, fantasy role-playing games can be a dangerous tool. Throw a game like White Rabbit or Dungeons & Dragons into the mix, games in which the emotional and psychological involvement is intense…it can prove explosive.”
“How,” Stacy asked, “did you know that?”
“In a former life, I was a clinical psychologist.”
She should be surprised, she supposed. Or suspect the woman of being a pathological liar or con artist. After all, in the relatively short time she’d known Billie, the woman had mentioned four marriages, a stint as both a flight attendant and runway model. Now this. She wasn’t that old.
But Billie always had facts or authentic-sounding anecdotes to back up her claims.
Stacy shook her head, thoughts returning to Leonardo Noble and the events of the past days. “I’ve stepped on someone’s toes.”
She said it almost to herself, and Billie’s brow wrinkled in question. Quickly, Stacy told her about the night before. About being attacked, the words the man had murmured against her ear, that campus security believed he was the same man who had raped three coeds earlier in the school year.
“I didn’t mistake what I heard,” Stacy said.
For a long moment her friend said nothing, then she nodded. “I know you didn’t. You were a cop, those are the kinds of mistakes you wouldn’t make.”
Billie stood, taking the sample plate with her. She
Could Cassie have gotten unwittingly pulled into that game?
A powerful tool in the wrong hands.
So many things in life were. Power. Guns. Money. Almost anything.
She considered the scenario Leonardo had painted: some wacko playing a fantasy role-playing game for real. A game in which the only way to win was to kill off the other characters, then face the White Rabbit himself—face the one controlling the game, the ultimate trickster.
A real-life White Rabbit.
The connection between Cassie and the scenario Leonardo Noble painted was flimsy at best, but she couldn’t help but wonder if the two were related.
Stranger things had happened.
Last year in Dallas.
Billie sauntered over with a plate of samples. Chocolate chip muffins, Stacy saw. Rich, dark chocolate. Billie’s sample plate and the timing of its appearance was a running joke among the regulars. If there was trouble brewing or juicy dish to be had, the sample plate came out. Billie seemed to innately know the right moment—and the right pastry—to share.
Billie smiled the enigmatic smile that had helped her snare four husbands, including her present spouse, ninety-year-old millionaire Rocky St. Martin. “Muffin?”
Stacy helped herself to a piece of the pastry, knowing full well the treat wasn’t free. Billie expected payment—in the form of information.
Sure enough, Billie set the plate on the table, pulled out a chair and sat. “Who was he and what did he want?”
“Leonardo Noble. He wanted to hire me.”
Billie arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow and nudged the plate of muffin pieces closer to Stacy.
Stacy laughed, took another and slid the plate back toward the other woman. “It has to do with Cassie. Sort of.”
“I thought so. Explain.”
“Remember what I told you about Cassie having set up a meeting with a White Rabbit?” The other woman nodded. “That man, Leonardo Noble, is the inventor of the game.”
Stacy saw interest flare in her eyes. “Go on.”
“Since we talked last, I’ve found out more about the game. That it’s dark and violent. That the White Rabbit and the last player alive play to the death.”
“Charming.”
Stacy explained about the postcards the man had received, about his theory that someone had begun playing the game for real. “I know it sounds out there, but—”
“But it could happen,” Billie filled in for her. She leaned toward Stacy. “Studies have shown that in people for whom the line between fantasy and reality is blurred, fantasy role-playing games can be a dangerous tool. Throw a game like White Rabbit or Dungeons & Dragons into the mix, games in which the emotional and psychological involvement is intense…it can prove explosive.”
“How,” Stacy asked, “did you know that?”
“In a former life, I was a clinical psychologist.”
She should be surprised, she supposed. Or suspect the woman of being a pathological liar or con artist. After all, in the relatively short time she’d known Billie, the woman had mentioned four marriages, a stint as both a flight attendant and runway model. Now this. She wasn’t that old.
But Billie always had facts or authentic-sounding anecdotes to back up her claims.
Stacy shook her head, thoughts returning to Leonardo Noble and the events of the past days. “I’ve stepped on someone’s toes.”
She said it almost to herself, and Billie’s brow wrinkled in question. Quickly, Stacy told her about the night before. About being attacked, the words the man had murmured against her ear, that campus security believed he was the same man who had raped three coeds earlier in the school year.
“I didn’t mistake what I heard,” Stacy said.
For a long moment her friend said nothing, then she nodded. “I know you didn’t. You were a cop, those are the kinds of mistakes you wouldn’t make.”
Billie stood, taking the sample plate with her. She
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