She was braced for her mother's hurt and disillusionment and expected Ted to be furious, and justifiably so. After all, she and Eric had physically invaded his apartment and thereby made him a part of a scam that would be abhorrent to him. The one thing she was not prepared for was his refusal to believe her.

"Why would I lie about something like that?" she demanded.

"For the same reason you showed us that sketch of a gallows," Ted said. "To get your mother to move back to your beloved Ventura. Ever since you got here, you've been whining about how miserable you are. To hear you talk, you'd think you'd been thrown into a snake pit. You've been feeding Rosemary one pitiful story after another: Just being in this town gives you nightmares and makes you scream in your sleep; the kids are unfriendly; people put mean pictures in your locker. Now you're asking us to believe that your cla.s.smates are out to get you by putting dead creatures in your locker because you've been conducting a fortune-telling scam out of my apartment and that both my daughter and the president of the cla.s.s have been involved in it. You've gone over the line, Sarah. Your mother and I weren't born yesterday."

"Don't condemn her so fast, Ted," Rosemary said. "These are serious accusations. If what Sarah says is true, this is a nasty situation."

"A few well-placed phone calls will make this or break this," Ted said. "We'll start with Eric Garrett."

He looked up the number in the book, then picked up the phone and dialed.

"h.e.l.lo, John? Ted Thompson here. How are things going? ... Glad to hear it. ... Nope, no legal problems, thank goodness. If there were, I'd be phoning you at your office. I wondered if Eric was around. If so, I'd like to speak to him. ... I see. Well, if it's not too late when he gets in, would you have him give me a call? I'm at Rosemary Zoltanne's house. I think Eric knows the number. Oh, and while I'm at it, I want you to know how grateful I am to your son for his emergency treatment of Rosemary when she burned herself a couple of weeks ago. You ought to be grooming that boy of yours for medical school. ... Just kidding, John, just kidding! He's going to make a terrific attorney, just like his dad. Have him call me, okay? There's something I need to ask him. ...Thanks, John. Give my best to Nancy. Goodbye."

He replaced the receiver on the hook and immediately lifted it again. The next number he dialed from memory.

"h.e.l.lo, Sheila? It's Ted. ... I agree, that was unnecessary. Of course you know my voice. I'd like to speak to Kyra. ... No, it's not about Thanksgiving. However, since I've got you on the line, is there any chance that Kyra and Brian-? ... Well, look, we'll talk about it later. Right now I need to talk to Kyra about something else. ... No, I won't go into it with you. It's between my daughter and me. May I please speak to her?" He waited in obvious irritation until Kyra got on the phone. The conversation that followed was a short one. "Kyra, what do you know about a fortune-telling scam that Sarah and Eric Garrett were conducting out of my apartment? Sarah says you were providing her with information so that she could fake the fortunes. ... No, of course, I didn't believe her, but Sarah's been very insistent, and in the interest of fairness I felt I had to ask you. ... I realize that. It made no sense to me either. I'll talk to you tomorrow. We need to discuss Thanksgiving, but tonight isn't a good time for that. ... Okay, baby. I'm sorry if I upset you. Sleep tight."

He hung up the phone and turned to face Sarah and Rosemary.

"Kyra says she knows nothing about it."

"She's lying!" Sarah exclaimed.

"She says that you and she are so hostile toward each other that the last thing she would ever want to do would be to get involved in any sort of business venture with you. Rosie, be honest, now, can you picture our daughters teaming up like that?"

"It is hard to imagine," Rosemary admitted.

"Right you are. But for the sake of argument, let's say that Kyra is the one who's lying. Maybe she did supply all this inflammatory information. But what would her reason be? She doesn't need spending money. I give her a good allowance, as I would Sarah if she weren't too hard-nosed to accept it. Eric certainly doesn't need money-he has everything he needs and more. His father even bought him a car for his sixteenth birthday and pays for the gas. Beyond that, how could Sarah have provided information about things that hadn't happened yet? Grace Rice's elopement with her sister's boyfriend? Misty Lamb's mother falling in the kitchen? Did Kyra tell you all that too, Sarah?"

"No," Sarah said, her heart sinking.

"Then where did it come from?"

Sarah shot her mother a look of desperation.

"It seemed like I was seeing those things in the ball."

"In the crystal paperweight?"

"Yes, I saw them in the paperweight."

"Is that the same paperweight your mother let you use at the carnival?"

"There's only one paperweight. I have it on my desk."

"Did it show you the future when you were telling fortunes at the school?"

"No," Sarah said. "I mean-well, there was one thing: I thought I saw somebody trip Charlie, but that turned out not to be true. The fact that he fell that night was apparently a coincidence."

"Okay, let's go back a few paces. You say you were conducting this scam out of my apartment. So, show me the duplicate key you used to get in there."

"I gave it to Eric," Sarah said.

"That's convenient, now, isn't it?"

"But, Ted, what about the crow?" Rosemary asked, breaking into the conversation. "We can chalk up the drawing as a prank, but not a dead bird. Somebody actually slaughtered a living creature and then went to the effort of finding out Sarah's locker combination and putting the dreadful thing in there for her to find. And Sarah's right, birds do symbolize witchcraft. They're considered *familiars,' animal friends who a.s.sist witches in their work. The symbol of a dead bird could be a symbol of a dead witch. And if uneducated, superst.i.tious hoodlums have labeled Sarah a witch-"

"The children in this town where I was born and raised and have taught school for all of my adult life are not *uneducated hoodlums,' " Ted said angrily. "They are a lot less superst.i.tious than the flower-child types in California who chant meaningless gibberish and practice yoga and burn incense. And who is to say that Sarah did find a bird in her locker? It's hard for you to accept, I'm sure, but your daughter needs help, Rosie. I'm going to insist that she get counseling."

"I won't go to Mr. Lamb!" Sarah said adamantly. "That man needs counseling himself! He's a wife abuser!"

"May I ask how you came up with that slanderous tidbit? And please, don't tell me again that you saw it in a paperweight."

"I got it from Kyra," Sarah said. "Then Misty confirmed it. The reason she came to have her fortune told was because she was afraid for her mother's life. She wanted to know if she would ever have the courage to leave her father."

"The Lambs are a happily married couple," Ted said. "At last year's faculty Christmas party they were holding hands like newlyweds. And even if I didn't trust my daughter's word, which I do with all my heart, there is no way that she would have access to personal information of that nature."

"She got it from her mother," Sarah said. "It was in the church files."

"You want me to believe that Sheila is a part of this alleged con scheme? It will be a cold day in h.e.l.l before I buy that, Sarah. My wife may have her problems, but one thing I will say for her is that she is a highly moral woman. There is no way in this world that Sheila Thompson would become involved in anything that had to do with the occult."

"Call Mr. Prue," Sarah said, giving up on the subject of Kyra. "He'll tell you I came into his office today with the crow."

"I plan to do exactly that," Ted said, and picked up the receiver again.

This phone call was even briefer than the last one, and after the initial question Ted listened in silence. When he hung up the phone, he was shaking his head.

"Mr. Prue says, yes, Sarah did come to his office this morning," he said, addressing himself to Rosemary as if Sarah wasn't there. "He says she was hostile and hysterical, and he, too, feels she would benefit from counseling. He never actually saw any crow. She was carrying a bundle of papers in which she said there was the carca.s.s of a bird, but she wouldn't open it. He thinks that it's very doubtful there was anything in it."

"I tried to show him!" Sarah cried. "He didn't want to look at it! He wanted it off his desk because he was afraid of germs!"

The telephone rang. Sarah grabbed for the receiver before Ted could reach for it. As she had antic.i.p.ated, it was Eric returning Ted's call.

"It's about the fortune-telling, Eric," she said hurriedly before Ted could intercept the phone call. "I've told Ted and Rosemary everything. Now I need for you to verify it."

There was a long pause, and then Eric said softly, "I trusted you."

Sarah felt herself starting to falter at the hurt in his voice. Was it possible that she was mistaken and Eric really did care? But if so, how could he have lied about her to Mr. Prue? Or had Mr. Prue been the liar and misquoted Eric as saying she was the one who'd initiated the fortune-telling?

"I'm not out to get you into trouble," she said. "I mean that, Eric. I'm willing to accept the blame for getting us into Ted's apartment. Other than trespa.s.sing, we weren't doing anything illegal, so, please, just tell him the truth and make him believe me."

She handed the receiver to Ted.

"So-what about it?" Ted asked in the cla.s.sroom voice she had come to despise. "Were you and Sarah and Kyra running a fortune-telling scam? ... You heard me right, I said a fortune-telling scam. Telling people's fortunes for money. ... No, I don't mean the game at the carnival. I mean a private moneymaking business run out of my apartment. ... Then why would Sarah say so? It makes no sense. Why confess to something that none of you were doing?"

He listened for a moment.

"I see," he said finally with a note of relief in his voice. Then, to Sarah's astonishment, he chuckled. "Well, that explains it. It's tough being a teenage heartthrob, but somebody has to do it. Thanks for returning my call, I really appreciate it. I'll see you in cla.s.s. Don't forget the quiz on Monday-not that a student of your caliber needs any reminding."

He hung up the phone and sat for a moment in silence.

Then he said, "He denied knowing anything about a fortune-telling business. Sarah, I think you'd better give up on this story. All you're going to do is dig yourself in deeper and deeper."

"What did he say when you asked him my motive for lying?" Sarah asked hopelessly, too heartsick to argue any further.

"He explained that you're angry because he told you he couldn't date you any longer because he and Kyra are going to be going steady. He said you threatened to retaliate, but he never imagined you'd go this far. This is very disturbing, Sarah. I find it incredible that you would throw yourself on the funeral pyre, so to speak, in order to get revenge on Eric and Kyra. I've heard the old adage *h.e.l.l hath no fury like a woman scorned,' but I never expected to see it played out in my own home."

"Ted, that's cruel and unnecessary," Rosemary objected. "If what Eric says is true, then Sarah has a right to be hurt. He's been leading her on, taking her out at least once or twice a week, and calling her on the phone almost every evening."

"He's a kind young man," Ted said. "I wish there were more like him. He could see that Sarah was having trouble making friends here and wanted to make her feel welcome. You're talking as if Kyra jumped in out of the blue and broke up a big romance. Kyra and Eric have been bosom buddies all their lives. Eric's mother was and still is Sheila's best friend."

"So now we're back to Sheila again," Rosemary said. "Is it possible that this whole thing is a ploy of hers to come between you and me by way of our children?"

"Don't try to blame Sheila for your daughter's bizarre behavior," Ted shot back at her. "The next thing you're going to be saying is that Sheila sneaked into the school building and planted a bird in Sarah's locker, an invisible bird that n.o.body but Sarah has seen."

"I'm not saying that at all," Rosemary said, her voice quivering. "I'm just saying that it's not as easy to make friends in this town as you pretend it is. The people here have all known each other forever, and Sarah has been so lonely-"

"Please, Rosemary, let it drop," Sarah said. "My loneliness isn't the issue. The issue is that somebody left me a dead crow. That's the bottom line. If you and Ted need proof, then go over to the school and dig through the garbage bin. You'll find the disgusting thing about a third of the way down. You'd better wear rubber gloves, because by now it's probably got maggots."

"Now I suppose you're going to stalk out of the room," Ted said. "That's what you always do when you don't like the way the conversation is going."

Sarah didn't bother to answer. She was afraid that if she tried to respond, she would cry.

She got her jacket off the coat tree in the hall and opened the front door. It was there again-a car parked directly across the street. Was this the same car that had followed her from the house? That question could not be answered, as she had fled without turning to look at it. She strained her eyes in an effort to see it more clearly, but clouds covered the sky, blotting out the moon like shutters, and all she could make out was the car's dark shape against the curb. She couldn't even tell how many people were in it, or if indeed there was anybody in it at all. But if not, why would it be parked there? The people who lived in that house always parked in their driveway.

They've staked out our home, Sarah thought with a jolt of terror. It wasn't just a one-time thing, they're doing it every night!

She was tempted to run back to the living room and drag her mother and Ted to the door. "Come, look! This is evidence!" she would tell them. But evidence of what? There was nothing overtly threatening about a car parked on a public street. She could already hear Ted's reaction: "How paranoid can you get, Sarah? Do you think they're carrying Uzis?"

Was the car empty or was it occupied? It was impossible to tell. As her eyes became better adjusted to the darkness, she thought she saw movement on the driver's side, but she couldn't be sure. She contemplated crossing the street to establish that for certain, but didn't have the courage. That was probably just what they hoped for. They knew that she was aware that they were out there, because here she stood, framed in a brightly lit doorway, staring straight across at them. Were they waiting there for her curiosity to get the best of her and bring her out into the night to offer herself up to them? Or was it strictly her imagination that the interior of the car now suddenly seemed churning with activity, as if it were filled with people, shifting position on the seats to get a better look at her?

A small black missile came streaking out of the darkness as if propelled by a demon's slingshot. Sarah opened her mouth to scream, and then, as the creature wrapped itself around her ankles, she began to giggle in hysterical relief.

"What are you running from?" she asked. "Do they scare you too?"

She bent and gathered up Yowler, clutching him tightly against her chest, gathering comfort from his furry warmth.

"My security dolly," she whispered. "I should have named you Dorcas." She buried her face in his neck and giggled even harder. She was losing control, and felt as if she might be going crazy. Or maybe she already was crazy. Did crazy people realize they had lost their senses? Was it possible she was insane and just didn't know it? Could something have snapped in her brain one night while she was sleeping so that she woke up in the morning no longer able to discriminate between what was real and what was imaginary?

"Sarah!" Ted called from the living room. "Either go out or stay in, but shut that door. You're letting in the cold."

Sarah closed the door and carefully locked it. Then, with Yowler still in her arms, she went down the hall to her bedroom. The essence of Kyra came billowing out to greet her, even though Kyra's physical self was elsewhere. The scent of her cloying perfume had seeped into the curtains and bedspreads so that, with every breath that Sarah took, Kyra seemed to be invading her lungs. Kyra's rosebud pajamas lay tossed in a heap on her pillow, despite the fact that there was a perfectly good drawer for her to put them in, and the top of the bureau was littered with her half-used lipsticks and little jars of freckle cream. A splotch of her tacky pink nail polish decorated the throw rug between the beds, like blood from an anemic vampire.

Very deliberately Sarah placed Yowler on Kyra's bed.

"Shed on the pillow!" she directed him.

Yowler immediately leaped down, as if he wanted no contact with the bed, and Sarah didn't blame him.

Thinking of the car across the street, she adjusted the window blinds so that there was no possible way anyone could see in. Then she placed a CD in her player and adjusted the volume, filling the room with the dreamy lilt of panpipes and the soothing ripple of a harp. She switched off the overhead fixture and clicked on the bedside lamp, draping Kyra's pajamas over the shade to dim the light.

Then she went over to her desk and picked up the paperweight.

"Here goes nothing," she told herself nervously as she deliberately stared into its depths, willing the pictures to come even as she dreaded them.

"Show me the faces of the people in that car," she said softly, to whom she did not know. To the ball itself? To G.o.d? To her own subconscious? "Show me their faces," she whispered again. "I want to see their faces."

It might have been minutes, it might have been hours, before it happened. All she knew was that her head was beginning to ache and her eyes were blurring with the strain of keeping them focused on the center of nothing, when the strange gray swirls began to appear in the gla.s.s. She held her breath as she watched them shifting about-forming, dissolving, and re-forming like clouds in a windstorm-until at last a picture began to appear to her, a picture that she had not asked for.

With a moan of horror she let the ball drop from her hands.

The picture was of a girl with long dark hair-a tall, slender girl who looked very much like Sarah.

The girl had a noose around her neck.

CHAPTER.

FIFTEEN.

SHE TRIED NOT TO fall asleep, because she did not want to dream, and she could tell by the tug of her eyelids that a dream awaited her. It was there ahead of her, poised at the edge of her mind, impatient for the bars of consciousness to drop so that it could attack her.

Her eyelids won, and she finally let them fall closed. The instant her brain let go, the dream was upon her, angry at having been kept waiting, sucking her into its depths and making her a part of it.

She was standing at the edge of a crowd, but-wait-was she standing? No, she was seated on shoulders-the broad, strong shoulders of somebody who loved her, for the hands that were gripping her ankles were gentle and rea.s.suring.

In front of her, teetering on the topmost rung of a ladder, there stood a woman with a hangman's noose around her neck. The other end of the rope was looped around the branch of a ma.s.sive oak tree. From her seat on high, Sarah could look across the heads of the people in front of her and stare straight into the woman's terrified eyes.

This was not the girl in the crystal ball; this woman was older and frailer, with pallid skin, as if deprived of the sun for months. Still, when the woman glared back at her, Sarah knew her, and the hatred she saw in those eyes transcended the fear in them.

"I want to get down!" Sarah whimpered. "Papa, please, put me down!"

But the man on whose shoulders she sat did not seem to hear her.

"This is a day of celebration!" he was shouting. "Blessings upon you, my brethren! Our Lord awarded you the duty of exposing and destroying those worshipers of Satan, who have dwelt among us disguised as our friends and neighbors, and you have obeyed His commandment!"

"I didn't mean it," Sarah whispered. "I didn't really mean it."

But again the man did not hear her.

He turned to the woman on the ladder and bellowed, "Confess, witch!"