"I'd like to buy an engagement ring," Lance replied brightly. "I want something simple but elegant. Just like my bride-to-be."

"Follow me, and I'll show you some rings that might be perfect," the saleswoman said. She directed Lance to another counter at the end of the small store. She bent down, took a key from her skirt pocket, and unlocked the case. She pulled out a display of diamond rings and set them on top of the counter.

"Do you see anything you like?" she asked him.

Lance gazed at the sparkling rocks. They were all so beautiful. As his eyes moved from left to right, he saw it. The perfect ring for Rosamond. He pointed at the ring. "I'll take this one," he answered.

The saleswoman smiled. "That's a wonderful choice," she enthused, taking the two carat marquee shaped solitare from its spot. "What size do you need this in?"

"A size six." Lance pulled out an American Express from his wallet.

"I think your fiancee will love your selection," the saleswoman gushed to Lance. "She's a very lucky woman."

"No, I'm a very lucky man," Lance responded. You just wait my beautiful Rosie, he thought to himself. I'm going to be the best husband to you. You'll never be lonely again.

"Joe, we really want to thank you for talking to us," Russell said gratefully to Joe Christy, the shop's owner.

"My pleasure," Joe replied. "Anything to help catch this loony. It's such a terrible shame one your own had to die like that."

There was uncomfortable silence in the room for a moment. Finally, Joe sighed. "Come on, let's go talk in my office. I'll put the closed sign up." He walks from behind the counter to the door and switches the open sign to the other side. He turns the lock on the door. "Okay, follow me guys."

Joe leads Russell and Keith down a small hallway to a door at the end. He opens it up to reveal a small but tidy room with three chairs, a fax machine, a copier, and a computer. Joe takes a seat at his desk. Russell and Keith sit in the other chairs.

"Now," Joe began, "what would you like to know?"

"Who bought Barbie dolls here recently?" Russell inquired. "Specifically, a policewoman and one in a red gown?"

"Well, just yesterday, Kane Garrett purchased a policewoman Barbie for his ladyfriend's daughter." Russell and Keith looked at each other in complete surprise.

"But he wasn't the only one," Joe continued. "Somebody else bought the same doll, and also the one with the red gown---Valentine's Day Barbie."

Russell sighed with relief. He knew Kane couldn't be the murderer.

"It was funny though about Mr. Garrett," Joe spoke up. "He told me he thought someone was watching him. He got really spooked."

"It could have been the killer," Keith stated.

"Holy Mother," Russell muttered. "What about this other customer?" he asked Joe.

"The other customer wasn't a man at all, it was a woman." Russell and Keith exchanged glances again.

"You know, it was sort of weird about her," Joe went on. "She had on big, black sunglasses and carried a huge, white purse. She bought eight Barbies and paid cash for them."

The wheels in Russell's mind turned. "Joe, was one of those Barbies dressed in a lavender gown?"

Joe paused to think. "I believe so. I recall her saying that was her favorite color."

"Can you describe the woman?" Keith asked.

"Yep, she had long blonde hair, a little past her shoulders. She was about your height," he motioned to Russell. "She was wearing a long peach duster and matching shoes. And her voice was funny."

"Funny? How?" Russell wondered aloud.

"It sounded unnatural, like she was trying to disguise her voice."

Russell got up and shook Joe's hand. "Thanks for all of your help Joe."

"Quite all right. I'm just glad Mr. Garrett's not the one you're looking for. He's a nice fellow," Joe replied.

Keith also shook Joe's hand, said goodbye, and excused himself along with Russell. As the two exited the store Russell let out a deep breath.

"So, it's a woman we're looking for now," Keith said. "With blonde hair. Who's murdered two other blonde women and cut off their hair. But why Russ?"

Russell shook his head. "I don't know, but it does make sense a little Keith." He opened the door of his police car and got in. He waited for Keith to sit in the passenger seat, then closed the door. "Suzanne and Sheila probably would let their guard down more if a woman approached them rather than a man."

"Do you know how many blonde women are in this town?" Keith asked in a defeated voice. "Real and fake. And with our mysterious doll buyer paying cash, that will make it even more difficult to locate her."

Russell started the car. "We may not have a lot of searching to do Keith." He paused to think over his theory. "The night Suzanne attempted to interview me about those notes the killer sent, there was another reporter anchoring the news broadcast. She was blonde also. Her name is Janet MacDonald."

"You know Russ, Debbie and I were home that night watching," Keith said, referring to his wife of twelve years. "Debbie thought she looked familiar."

"Has she seen her recently?" Russell asked him.

"No, she thought she looked like a girl she graduated with from high school." He paused. "Are you sure it's her? The killer called in during the broadcast."

"It could have been an elaborate trick. Maybe there was no call at all that night, and then she actually started phoning in the threats later," Russell surmised.

"Do you suppose something happened back then, and this Janet has waited over twenty years to exact some kind of sick revenge?" Keith had to shudder. "It's straight out of a slasher movie."

"Maybe we ought to pay Ms. MacDonald a visit. Let's go to the TV station and get her address."

Janet MacDonald's Apartment, same time

The reporter was curled up in a ball against the wall of her living room, wearing only a beige satin slip and her hair was disheveled. She seemed to be lost in another world, talking to herself.

"They're going to find out about me," she mumbled. "They're going to know why I'm here and what I've done. And I have to tell everybody first, before they find out, or I'll lose my family--my baby. They'll never let me rest. They'll never let me rest again..."

Next Monday, Come Nightfall celebrates its first anniversary, the new site premieres---and the three big secrets of the summer will be revealed---but not in the way you think. You don't want to miss out on all the action, and the suspense, and the surprises.

THIS HAS BEEN COME NIGHTFALL

BY BREE PERRY

COPYRIGHT 2001