Jessica nodded. "I guess it just wasn't what I expected."

  "Oh?" Jack asked. For the merest fraction of a second, Jessica thought she saw the glazed expression in his eyes that she'd noticed at Guido's. But it was gone before she had a chance to be sure.

  "You know you can get awfully tired of posh, when you've been surrounded by it your whole life," Jack explained.

  "You can?" Jessica said in a small voice.

  "Yup. But you didn't come here to talk about that," Jack said, yet again avoiding the subject of his background. "You came to see my underwater pictures." He opened the door to his one closet and began hunting around for his photographs.

  Jessica tried to peer around him, to see if there were any momentos hidden in the closet, but there were so many things crammed inside that it was impossible to tell.

  "Ah-ha! Here we go!" Jack pulled a big scrapbook from the top closet shelf. As he did, a picture fluttered to the ground.

  Jessica went over and picked it up. On it was a little blond girl of about eleven or twelve, with Jack's smile and his deep-set eyes. "Oh, is this your sister?" Jessica asked. The girl stood in front of a very ordinary, yellow, two-story house.

  Jack dropped the scrapbook on the table and nearly grabbed the photo out of Jessica's hand. "Yes, that's Valerie," he said, his voice strained.

  Jessica shot him a quizzical look. For a considerate person, he'd certainly had his share of inconsiderate moments that day. She tried to think of something to say to ease the tension. "She's very pretty," Jessica offered tentatively.

  "Yes . . ." A peculiar forlornness echoed in that one syllable.

  "Do you have any more recent pictures of her?" Jessica asked.

  "No!" Jack roared.

  Then Jessica saw it. The glazed expression was back again. "Look," she said anxiously, "maybe I'd better go."

  Jack sank down on the couch and took a few deep breaths. "Don't," he said. "I really want you to see those scuba-diving pictures. Please stay," he added simply. The old Jack was back again, the one who'd named the star after Jessica.

  But Jessica was on her guard now. She didn't know how many more of these strange, tense moments she could handle. "I don't know, Jack—" she began.

  Jack held his hand out to her. "Jessica, I want to be with you." Jack flashed her his irresistible smile. "Please."

  "Well—OK," Jessica conceded finally. After all, she'd worked hard for this moment—just Jack and her, Lila no more than a shadow in the past. She didn't want to blow it now.

  When she began looking at the photographs, Jessica was glad she'd stayed. They were truly beautiful, and after seeing them, she felt very close to Jack.

  But there was still one big disappointment to her afternoon. Jack seemed to have no intention at all of unveiling himself to her. And Jessica suspected that if she didn't take matters into her own hands, she'd leave knowing no more about him than she did right now.

  "Jack," she said, a plan taking shape in her mind, "can I use the bathroom?"

  "Right over there," Jack pointed.

  "Don't go anywhere," Jessica joked, giving him a wink. She went into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Then, as quickly and quietly as she could, she began opening all the bathroom cabinets, hunting on the floor, searching every nook and cranny. There had to be some telltale item—a shaving kit with Jack's initials stamped in gold, or a prescription bottle with his full name on it. Jessica opened zippered cases, poked behind every tube and jar, and even checked the shower stall.

  Finally, in the little cabinet under the sink, she found an unmarked rectangular box. Eagerly she pried the lid open. What she saw inside made her gasp. Drugs. All kinds of drugs. And not the prescription kind she was hoping to find. There were pills of all different colors and sizes, a jar of whitish powder, a plastic bag full of marijuana, pipes, rolling papers, and various other accessories that Jessica couldn't even begin to identify. But she knew trouble when she saw it. This had to be the reason for Jack's strange behavior. And so much for his excuse about the chlorine in the community center pool. Jack's glazed, red eyes and his disturbing flare-ups suddenly made sense to Jessica. It was painfully clear that Jack was in no way the boy she thought he was. Suddenly Jessica was very angry at Jack, and she raced from the bathroom to confront him.

  "Why didn't you tell me about this?" she cried, still holding the box. She burst into the cramped living area just in time to see Jack pull his hand out of her shoulder bag, guilt written all over his face.

  "Oh, my god," she yelled. "Now what's happening. What are you doing in my bag?"

  "Shh, Jessica, I can explain," Jack answered her. "I was looking for a match. You have to light my stove with a match." He gestured toward the tiny two-burner stove in the corner of the room. "I was going to make us some tea."

  But Jessica had heard enough of his explanations. It was as if a light had just gone on in her head. "Well, what about this? Can you explain this?" She shook the box in her hand.

  Jack seemed to notice it for the first time, and he grew deathly pale.

  "And what about the money that disappeared the night we went to the movies? Can you explain that? And Lila's father's cuff links, what about those?" Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place with alarming speed.

  "Jessica—don't. Don't say another word." Suddenly Jack's tone became menacing.

  "Why? Don't you like hearing the truth about yourself, you—you phony?" Jessica spluttered angrily.

  Jack was on Jessica in a second. She struggled with every muscle in her body to break free of his grasp, but he was too strong.

  "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I take it back!" Tears of fright streamed down her cheeks. But something inside Jack had snapped. He was relentless. Jessica felt her cries choked off as Jack pinned her to the ground and closed his hands around her throat!

  Elizabeth dialed Lila Fowler's telephone number, her fingers trembling. This was her last chance to locate Jessica. They'd been up to Miller's Point, through town, and finally out to the mall. There had been no sign of Jack's Rambler anywhere. Now, as she stood at a pay phone by the Valley Cinema, Elizabeth held her breath and prayed.

  On the third ring, Lila picked up the phone. "Hello?" she croaked weakly.

  "Lila? It's Liz Wakefield. Are you OK?"

  "Oh, hi, Liz. No, I have the twenty-four hour flu, as a matter of fact," Lila said self-pityingly. "The doctor was just here."

  "Oh, I'm really sorry to hear that," Elizabeth responded. "And I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm afraid I've got an emergency on my hands. I need Jack's address immediately." Urgency echoed in her voice.

  Suddenly Lila's voice rose to a shrill, hysterical pitch. "Jack? What's happened to Jack? Is he all right?"

  "Jack's fine, Lila," Elizabeth informed her, in words tinged with anxiety. "But Jessica might not be. That's who I'm looking for."

  "Oh." Lila spoke quietly again. "But what would Jessica be doing at Jack's?" she asked innocently.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath. This was going to be more difficult than she had realized. "She's been seeing him," Elizabeth finally said, opting for the simple, unadorned truth. There was just no time for diplomacy.

  There was silence on the other end of the line. "Lila? Lila, are you there?" Elizabeth asked. She had to get that address as quickly as possible.

  "The traitor!" Lila shrieked. "How could she?" Elizabeth held the receiver away from her ear, but she could still hear Lila's screams. "I'm going to kill her. I swear it!"

  Elizabeth didn't have time to wait for Lila's tirade to wind down. Every second was a second wasted. "Lila," she yelled into the phone, "listen to me. You don't want him anyway."

  "What do you mean I don't want him?" Lila yelled, without giving Elizabeth a chance to explain. "You don't know a thing about our relationship, anyway."

  "But I know something about Jack that you don't know. Lila, he's nothing more than a common crook. And a dangerous one at that."

  "What?" Lila's horrified cry rang out across the phone lines.

  "I'm sorry, Lila. I know how much it must hurt." Elizabeth wished she didn't have to be the one to break the news. But there was no time to worry about that now. Not with Jessica's safety at stake. She went on to give Lila a quick version of Jack's history.

  When Lila spoke again, her voice was low and calm. But it was like the lull before a raging storm. "Elizabeth, Jack lives at Thirty-eight Vine Street, near the railroad tracks."

  "Thank you, Lila. You don't know how much your help means." Elizabeth hoped she could get off the phone before Lila unleashed her fury once again.

  "Oh, and Liz? When you find Jessica, tell her she did me a huge favor!" Elizabeth jumped as Lila slammed down the receiver. She knew that in the Fowler mansion, the storm had broken out. But Elizabeth had gotten what she so vitally needed—Jack's address.

  "Follow me," she shouted to Nicholas and David, as she hopped back into the Fiat.

  Elizabeth screeched around turns and flew down the streets of Sweet Valley as if she were a racer in the Indianapolis 500. In almost no time she'd crossed the railroad tracks, steered onto Vine Street, and come to an abrupt halt in front of number thirty-eight. She, Nicholas, and David raced through the door.

  But once inside, they were faced with yet another hurdle. There were eight mailboxes in the entryway. That meant eight different apartments. Which one was Jack's?

  Elizabeth scanned the mailboxes for names, but many of them were marked with last names only, and some had no names at all.

  "Bart Parnello," Elizabeth read out loud. "Apartment two B. I guess we can eliminate that one. And K. Spencer, three A. That one, too. But there are still six more apartments." Panic closed in on her. "What should we do?"

  "I don't see that we have any choice but to start knocking on doors," Nicholas observed darkly.

  The threesome went farther inside the old, dark building and rang the buzzer of the first apartment they came to. No answer. They rang again. Just as they were about to go on to the next door, they heard faint footsteps inside. The door was edged open a crack, and a heavyset man in an undershirt and boxer shorts peered out at them.

  "Whadya want?" he snarled. "I'm right in the middle of watching TV."

  "We're awfully sorry, sir," Elizabeth said, "but we're looking for someone who lives in this building—a boy named Jack."

  "Don't know him!" snapped the man, starting to close the door.

  With lightning reflexes, Elizabeth stuck her foot out so her toes were inside the door frame. "Please," she begged, "you have to help us."

  "Look," the man bellowed. "Nobody invited you in. So get lost. Understand?"

  "I understand that you're the rudest, meanest man I've ever met!" Elizabeth screamed back. Tears of frustration streamed down her face. They were losing precious seconds. In a move of sheer desperation, Elizabeth threw herself against the door, forcing it to open wider, and took another step inside. "Look, I really am sorry I interrupted you, but we need help. And you're not getting rid of me until we get it," she cried.

  "Listen, I could pick you up and throw you right out," the man said.

  "The boy we're looking for is tall, light-brown hair, about eighteen," Elizabeth plunged ahead boldly.

  "If I told you it sounded like the guy in four B, would you leave me alone?" the man growled.

  His question needed no answer. Elizabeth, Nicholas, and David were already sprinting up the stairs, toward the building's top floor.

  "What are you going to do with me?" Jessica sobbed. Jack had eased his fingers from around her throat, but he still had her pinned to the floor, his knee digging into her ribcage.

  "Oh, Jessica," Jack said in an alarmingly quiet tone, "if only you hadn't been so curious. I really liked you."

  "Well, if you like me, you'll let me go, right?" Jessica's teeth chattered with terror as she spoke.

  "I said liked, Jessica. That wasn't very nice of you to snoop through my things like that."

  "I'm sorry. I swear I am!" Jessica was at Jack's mercy. "Please, please, let me up."

  "I'm sorry, Jessica, but the party's over. If I let you leave, you'll tell everyone exactly what happened."

  "No, I promise I won't. Just let me go home, and I won't say a word."

  "Jessica, I'm tired of running from one place to another. I've got a good thing going here in Sweet Valley, and I'm not going to let anyone mess it up for me."

  "I won't. Please, Jack, don't hurt me." Jessica was consumed with fear.

  "I can't take any chances, Jessica. I have to make sure you won't talk."

  Suddenly a cry split the air, accompanied by banging on Jack's door. "Jess! Jessica, are you in there?"

  "Liz!" Jessica screamed. "Liz, help me!" Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the doorknob twisting and the door shake, but the single bolt held fast.

  "Liz, it's locked!" she screamed, dread rising in her throat.

  "Don't worry, Jessica," came Nicholas Morrow's rich baritone. Never before had his voice been so welcome a sound. "We'll get you out if we have to break this door down." He and David began pounding and kicking to loosen the bolt.

  Jessica held her breath as the old, poorly fastened lock began to give way.

  But Jack had one eye on the door also. "Stop!" he commanded. "Or I'll have to hurt Jessica." His voice rang out through the thin door into the hallway. Instantly the banging ceased.

  "No, keep at it!" Jessica yelled. "You're almost there!" The noise started up again immediately.

  "You're going to be sorry you said that." Jack's eyes blazed with fury as he yanked Jessica off the floor and dragged her to the tiny kitchen area at the far corner of the apartment. Gripping her with only one hand now, he stretched the other one toward a plastic bin that held his kitchen utensils and clasped the handle of a large knife.

  Jessica let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  "Quiet!" Jack ordered, raising the knife toward her neck.

  But at that instant, the bolt finally gave way, and Nicholas flew into the room, Elizabeth and David close on his heels. Before Jessica could even blink, Nicholas was fighting to wrest the knife from Jack's powerful grasp. In the struggle, Jessica broke free, but Jack and Nicholas remained locked in combat. As they wrestled down to the ground, David jumped in to aid his friend, trying to pry the knife from Jack's fingers. But Jack had the maniacal strength of several men. He made wild slashing motions with his arm, catching Nicholas's shoulder with the tip of his knife. Nicholas's shirt was cut open, and a nasty red gash stained the white fabric.

  Spurred to action, Jessica forced herself to move back toward Jack. Taking careful aim, she let loose her strongest, best cheerleading kick, catching Jack in the arm. The knife flew out of his hand and landed several feet away on the tattered rug.

  After that, it was over in a few short seconds. Elizabeth rushed forward and grabbed the knife, Nicholas struck Jack a driving punch in the stomach with his good arm, and while Jack was doubled over, David grabbed his arms and pinned them behind his back.

  Jessica was safe. And the game was finally up for Sweet Valley's mystery prince.

  Thirteen

  Jessica stood in the Sweet Valley police station a little while later, as the officer on desk duty finished typing up the statement she had made concerning the events of the past few hours. With her were Elizabeth and her parents; David; and Nicholas, his left shoulder now bandaged, though not too badly hurt.

  Behind the front desk, the police radio crackled as policemen called in reports from their assigned locations.

  "I hope they lock Jack up and throw away the key," Jessica said ferociously, signing the statement the officer placed in front of her.

  Dark-haired, athletic Ned Wakefield put an arm around his daughter's shoulder. "Jess, sweetheart, I know this has been a terrifying ordeal, and it's only natural to feel like you want to get even with Jack, but frankly, I think professional counseling might do a lot more for a troubled boy like that than putting him behind bars could."

  "Your father's right," Alice Wakefield put in. "There are special places where they can treat people like Jack. Maybe if he'd gotten help sooner, this whole thing wouldn't have happened."

  "And if I hadn't been so dense about going to see his dumb underwater photos, it wouldn't have happened either," Jessica berated herself.

  "Jessica, those pictures weren't even Jack's," Elizabeth informed her twin. "David says the girl at school was an expert diver, and they probably belonged to her." David nodded in confirmation.

  "More lies. I should have known. I should have sensed it. But no. I was too busy congratulating myself on my new, very important boyfriend. Stupid, stupid me." Jessica hung her head in shame.

  "It's not your fault, Jess. He's a very clever, expert liar," Elizabeth said. "There's no question about that. Anyone would have been fooled."

  "Liz, I appreciate your trying to make me feel better," Jessica said to her twin, "but you weren't fooled. You knew there was something strange about him. No, it was just me who was so blind."

  "You shouldn't blame yourself, Jessica." This time Nicholas attempted to console her. "In fact, you ought to feel awfully pleased with yourself. After all, you were the one who got the knife away from Jack. If it weren't for you, who knows what might have happened?"

  "You're the heroine of the day!" Elizabeth added.

  A tiny smile finally appeared on Jessica's lips. "I am?"

  "Of course you are, silly," her twin replied.

  The smile broadened. "And does the heroine get a special dinner out tonight in her honor?" she asked.

  "That's my Jessica." Ned Wakefield laughed.

  "Does that mean yes?"

  "Jess, if you're feeling up to it, you name the place, and we'll go there later!"

  Before Jessica had a chance to reply, however, everyone's attention was caught by the police radio, blasting an urgent message through the station. "Small aircraft in trouble. Vicinity of Secca Lake. I repeat, small plane in trouble. Craft number BA three-two-nine. Rented to one George Warren."

  Elizabeth let out a horrified gasp. George and Enid! The ordeal was not over yet!