"We don't want somebody like this in Pine Crest," Debbie said. "Cindy, why don't you tell your father about it? Maybe he could perform an exorcism or something."

"I can't do that," Cindy said. "He'd want to know how I knew, and I'd have to confess that I had my fortune told. My dad would be so furious, he'd disown me. A minister's daughter doesn't go to a fortune-teller."

"What about sending him an anonymous note?" Jennifer suggested. "We could give him the address and time of Sarah's next reading, and he could walk in on her and discover for himself what she's doing."

"That won't work," Kyra said. "She's quitting the business." The minute the words were out, she longed to s.n.a.t.c.h them back. She was not supposed to know that Sarah was telling fortunes.

To her great relief, her slip went unnoticed.

"Why?" Leanne asked her. "It seemed to be going great guns."

"I'm not sure why. I think ..." Kyra groped for an answer. "I think Eric fired her."

"He fired her!" Jennifer exclaimed. "I thought he was going out with her! Danny and I saw the two of them at the movies, and he had his arm around her and everything."

"He took her out once, just to keep her happy," Kyra said. "As cla.s.s president he kind of felt he owed her something because he thought she was earning all this money for the cla.s.s." Kyra was in too deep, and she knew it, but there was no turning back, so she mentally crossed herself and plunged ahead with the story. "Then he found out she was actually pocketing it herself. I mean, every penny they brought in, she was sticking in her purse! When Eric discovered that, he totally blew her off. He told her he didn't want anything more to do with her."

"That's just as well," Misty said. "We wouldn't want any of our parents going over there. If we exposed the fortune-telling racket, our names would come out. And so would all the things she said about us in her readings. We wouldn't want that. I mean, some of that stuff was very personal."

"She said stuff about our families too," another girl said nervously. "She told me something about my brother, the one who's away at college, that n.o.body knows-absolutely n.o.body-and my parents would be sure to think that I was the one who told her. There would go my driving privileges for the rest of my life!"

"So it's up to us to get rid of her ourselves," Debbie said. "Maybe if we put a little pressure on her, she and her mother will get on their broomsticks and go back where they came from. What would you say to that, Kyra?"

"I can't think of anything that would make me happier," Kyra said. She smiled at her beautiful new friends, wishing she knew them well enough to hug them.

On Wednesday morning, when Sarah Zoltanne went to her locker at the end of third period to get her gym clothes, she found a sheet of paper stuck in the crack under the door. When she pulled it out and unfolded it, she found that it was a hand-drawn sketch of a gallows.

CHAPTER.

TWELVE.

SARAH WAITED UNTIL AFTER dinner to tell them about it, in order to spare Rosemary, who set great store by a pleasant dinner hour. It was as if it had been so long since she had had a man to please that she took what Sarah considered an inappropriate amount of delight in doing everything up perfectly, including a cloth and linen napkins and candles on the table.

Sarah thought this obsession might also have something to do with the fact that her mother had to be bored out of her mind with nothing to do all day but look at the walls. In the beginning, the move and unpacking, the painting of the rooms and arrangement of furniture, had kept her occupied. Now, however, these initial challenges were over. Her busy career and a.s.sortment of cultural interests lay behind her, along with all the friends she had left back in Ventura, and she had little to do all day except cook and count the hours until Ted and Sarah got home.

Even the "romantic" evenings appeared deadly to Sarah, as Ted seemed perfectly content to spend the after-dinner hours reading, grading student papers, or watching football on television.

So because of its importance to her mother, Sarah had honored the sanct.i.ty of the dinner hour. Now, however, as Ted settled himself on the sofa and reached for the TV section of the paper, she said, "Before you flick on the b.o.o.b tube, Ted, I have something to show you."

She handed him the sketch of the gallows.

"What's this?" Ted asked, glancing at it without much interest.

"What does it look like to you?"

"A gallows."

"That's what it looks like to me too," Sarah said. "Do you know where I found it? Stuck in the crack of my locker."

"Who put it there?" Rosemary asked, coming to stand where she could look over Ted's shoulder.

"Who do you think?"

"You're getting into a very annoying habit of answering a question with a question, Sarah," Ted said. "If you know who put it there, say so. If you don't, say you don't. Which is it?"

"I don't know for a fact," Sarah admitted, "but I think it's ninety-nine to one that it's a message from your darling daughter that she and her mother wish Rosemary and I were dead."

"What a terrible thing to say!" her mother exclaimed.

"I'm saying it because it's true."

"Kyra is not that kind of person," Ted said, struggling to control his anger. "Admittedly she is having some problems adjusting to my relationship with Rosemary, but you at least should understand that. You've made it very clear that you would like to see our relationship fail so that you and your mother can regress to the interdependent life the two of you led before I came on the scene. And Kyra is worried about her own mother's feelings, which is admirable, under the circ.u.mstances, since Sheila appears to be hurting. But Kyra would never send anybody a mean-spirited cartoon."

"You have no idea what Kyra would do," Sarah said.

"I know my daughter," Ted said tersely. "Kyra's not the type to play practical jokes on people."

"You consider this a joke?"

"Of course it's a joke," Ted said. "High-school kids are always playing pranks on each other. You're far too thin-skinned, Sarah. There are plenty of interpretations you could have put on this, and you picked the worst possible one."

"What other interpretations could there be?" Sarah demanded.

"Hang loose?" her mother suggested.

"What?"

"A play on words. Hang loose. Be cool. That kind of thing. Or-I know!" She laughed, and Sarah could have sworn there was a note of relief in the laughter. Her mother had been more worried than she had let on. "The subject you chose for your history-cla.s.s paper was the Salem witch-hunt. You told us yourself that you and Charlie Gorman pounced on that subject and that Charlie stripped the library of reference books. This drawing is a not very subtle message from some very irritated cla.s.smate who also wanted the chance to write a paper on that subject."

"T-That's ridiculous," Sarah sputtered.

"Actually it wasn't a very nice thing for Charlie to do," Rosemary continued. "To take out all those books so that other students wouldn't have an opportunity to use them."

" *All those books' means three," Sarah said. "The high-school library in this d.i.n.ky little town is the pits."

"That's why it's important to get materials read and returned as quickly as possible," Ted said. "The librarian told me there was a tremendous demand for those books from students who wanted to write on the subject the teacher highlighted."

"It wasn't highlighted," Sarah said.

"Don't talk back to me," Ted said. "How are you coming with the research? Are you finished with the books yet?"

"This sketch is not by somebody who's mad about the history a.s.signment!" Sarah exclaimed, furious at herself for having allowed the subject to be redirected. "The person who drew this sketch was not being cute! This person is vicious!"

"Oh, come on, Sarah," Ted said in exasperation. "You can't be implying that this is a death threat. Do you really think some student at Pine Crest is out to kill you?"

Sarah found herself experiencing an unexplainable pressure at her throat, as if the neck of her sweatshirt had suddenly tightened.

"Not exactly that," she said shakily. "I mean, no, of course not. Normal people don't kill each other just because they don't like each other."

"Well, I'm glad you don't believe that, because if you did it would be a sign of true paranoia," Ted said. "Rosemary, this brings me to something I've been meaning to suggest for some days now; I just haven't known how to raise the subject without upsetting you. I realize it hasn't been easy for Sarah to switch high schools at the start of her senior year. I think the adjustment might be easier if she had a few sessions with the school counselor."

"I suppose that's something we ought to consider," Rosemary said slowly. She turned to Sarah. "Don't look so horrified, honey. The counseling sessions I had after your father died were all that kept me sane during that terrible time. Sometimes it takes a little professional steering to help us put things into perspective."

"I don't need-" Sarah started to respond angrily, and then forced herself to calm down and consider the suggestion. Much as she hated the thought of accepting any proposal that came from Ted, the truth was that the idea of talking to a counselor was not such a bad one. She couldn't deny that her life in Pine Crest was miserable. She knew her att.i.tude was terrible. She had no friends, and she now realized that the boy she had halfway fallen in love with had only been using her. And the situation with her mother and Ted was so upsetting to her that she couldn't even bear to think about it. Rosemary, who was her best friend as well as her mother, had become Ted's puppet. Sarah had never felt so alone in her life. Perhaps an understanding counselor with a sympathetic ear and some wisdom to share might make her problems more tolerable.

"I guess, maybe," she said uncertainly.

"Terrific!" Ted exclaimed, obviously both surprised and pleased by this response. "I can set it up for you tomorrow. I know you'll like Mr. Lamb. Everybody does. The kids all say he's very good at helping them with their problems."

"You don't mean Misty Lamb's father!" Sarah exclaimed incredulously.

"That's right," Ted said. "I'm glad to find out you know Misty. She's the kind of girl who would make a very nice friend for you."

"Misty may be sweet, but her father's a monster," Sarah said. "You may not know it, but Misty's mother is in the hospital with a concussion because Mr. Lamb knocked her across the room."

"That's absurd!" Ted said. "The Lambs are a devoted family. Bert Lamb's wife accompanies him to faculty social functions, and I've never seen a more affectionate couple. Yes, the poor woman's in the hospital. She fell in the kitchen. But Bert had nothing to do with it. He wasn't even there. Kitchens can be hazardous places, right, Rosie?"

"So I've discovered," Rosemary said, glancing down ruefully at her bandaged arm.

"You've both of you got your heads in the sand!" Sarah told them. "This isn't the sweet little town you want to pretend it is! Terrible things are going on here! Rosemary, do you know about the bookstore that was burned down by religious fanatics?"

"I've never heard of any arson in Pine Crest," Ted said, stepping in quickly before Rosemary could answer. "There once was a bookstore that caught fire, but from everything I've heard, that was caused by a problem with the electrical system."

"I've been told that somebody deliberately set that fire," Sarah said. "The owner was sent a picture of a burning cross. That picture was a threat, not just a joke, and this picture of a gallows may be one also!"

"Forgive me, Rosemary, but I have to say this," Ted said. "Your daughter needs professional help. Listen to her ranting like a crazy person about a fine town filled with salt-of-the-earth people whom she hasn't made the slightest effort to get to know!"

"Don't you dare call me crazy!" Sarah exploded. "I know exactly what I'm saying!"

"Sarah, please, don't talk that way to Ted," Rosemary begged her. "This is his hometown and he loves it! You're hurting him deeply!"

"Aren't you taking this in?" Sarah whirled upon her mother, blinking back tears of frustration. "Rosemary, don't you get it? This is a picture of a gallows, a gallows that hangs people! Somebody drew this ghastly thing and stuck it in my locker!"

"I wouldn't be surprised if you drew it yourself," Ted said with ice in his voice. "You've been trying to sabotage my relationship with your mother from the moment we met. This is obviously a bizarre attempt to upset her so much that she'll call things off with me and take you back to California. Well, I have news for you, Sarah, your plan is not going to work. Your mother and I are in love, and whether you like it or not, we're going to make a life together. If our situation were different, I'd suggest that all three of us get family counseling from Reverend Morris, but given the circ.u.mstances that's out of the question. So Bert Lamb seems the only viable option."

"There is no way in the world that I will ever get counseling from Misty Lamb's father!" Sarah shouted, shaking with fury. "Just the thought of being alone with that man makes me nauseated! I'm going to get some fresh air before I throw up!"

She grabbed her jacket and let herself out into the night. The little town of Pine Crest lay spread out all about her, dozing in the light of a huge white moon, as deceptively peaceful and friendly-looking as a Norman Rockwell painting. It struck her for the first time that it resembled old Salem Village. Of course, that village had been in New England, and this was in the Ozarks. But the size of the town and its isolation from the more progressive outside world were similar, as was the dogmatic narrow-mindedness of the residents. When she thought about what Charlie had told her about the bookstore being burned down simply because it contained books on subjects some people found objectionable, it gave her the sort of chill she had once heard described on a television talk show as "a goose walking over my grave."

She was shivering also because she was physically cold. The temperature had plummeted twenty degrees in the past week, and an early snowfall was predicted for the coming weekend. She couldn't just stand there and freeze, she needed to start moving, but she had no idea where to go. Back in California if she went for a stroll after dinner she would head straight for one of the hangouts where she and her school friends congregated. Here she didn't have that option. In Pine Crest, of course, the young people got together also. They hung out at the Burger Barn and the bowling alley; they went to movies; they gathered at one another's houses; and all of them seemed to be involved in activities at the church. The difference was that in Ventura she had been a welcome part of things, while here she was considered an intruder, although what exactly she was intruding on she hadn't figured out yet.

Arbitrarily she turned left and began to walk briskly, stomping her feet down overly hard on the sidewalk to get her blood circulating. Ahead of her loomed Garrett Hill, a dark and brooding sentinel, standing guard over the town that had been placed in its keeping. Eric had wanted to drive her up to a parking area at the top, where he had said the moonlit town would look exactly like a chessboard. In retrospect Sarah realized that the metaphor said much about Eric, who had learned, perhaps from his father, to regard the people in his life as little more than game pieces.

Although their moonlit facades did make them appear to be replicas of each other, Sarah knew the ident.i.ties of the houses on either side from the paper route. This was the one with the blue shutters; the next had a holly bush by the side of the front steps; and then came the one that she often forgot to throw to because by the time they reached it she and Charlie were deep in conversation.

It occurred to her that Charlie was the only friend she had here. She looked forward to seeing him each morning and actually missed him on the weekends when his mother took over the paper-throwing. This pudgy boy whom Kyra had dismissed so derisively as the "cla.s.s clown" was proving to have a depth she had not expected. Who would have thought that he listened to New Age music and sent away for books about subjects like reincarnation?

She found herself wishing that Charlie were here with her now, plodding along beside her in the worn plaid jacket with the patches on the elbows. She wondered if that was the only jacket he owned. If he had another, he never wore it. With all the talking they had done, he had never once mentioned anything about his home life, except to say that his mother needed the station wagon to get to work. She wondered how his father got to work, or if he even had a father. Perhaps, like her, he came from a single-parent family. Kyra had undoubtedly fed her that information over the walkie-talkie, but at the time she hadn't been interested enough to make note of it. The fact that it seemed so important to Charlie to hang on to his paper route suggested that the family might not be well off.

She had walked only half a block when she became aware of the sound of a car engine coming to life behind her. Her first thought was that it might be Rosemary coming after her to apologize for the scene in the living room and a.s.sure her that she believed her, no matter what Ted said.

Sarah waited for the beams of the headlights to light up the road as the car came abreast of her, but that didn't happen. The engine continued to purr softly a short distance behind her like a cat that was idly watching a bird. The driver made no attempt either to pull up beside her or to pa.s.s her. Instead he seemed to be following her.

Following her? That was ridiculous. Why would anyone do that? But of course there were creeps who mugged women who went out walking alone at night. You read about such things happening all the time in big cities, but not in small towns like Pine Crest, where everybody in town knew everybody else. But then, Pine Crest was not what it appeared on the surface. This was a town where people kept ugly secrets hidden from view behind the closed doors of their neat little homes.

There was no sense taking a chance when you didn't have to. Spinning on her heel, Sarah abruptly broke into a run, cutting across the lawn to her left and dashing through the dark s.p.a.ce between houses like a rabbit diving into its hole. Emerging into the moonlight, she raced across the sequence of adjoining backyards, grateful that it was winter and there were no sprinklers or lawn chairs to collide with, and within minutes was in the yard behind her own house.

Standing at the door to the kitchen with her hand on the k.n.o.b, she waited for her heart to stop racing and her breath to slow down before she went back inside. If she told Ted and Rosemary that she had panicked over something so innocuous, it would appear to be validation of her alleged paranoia. And with pretty good cause. Now that she thought about it, she did recall that there had been a car parked across the street from their house. It had not occurred to her to notice if there were people in it, but she couldn't say that there hadn't been. Why should she find it significant that their decision to drive off coincided with her leaving the house to take a walk? Two kids making out in the moonlight-what could be more natural? And now they were leaving, but driving away very slowly, possibly still wrapped in each other's arms. Why should she be so frightened by something so normal?

Maybe Rosemary was right, Sarah tried to tell herself. Maybe that sketch was a joke about "hanging loose" or a nasty response from somebody who wanted our reference books.

But in her heart Sarah knew it wasn't.

The occupants of that car had not been cuddling romantically in the moonlight. Maybe they were the ones who had left the gallows message. Maybe they had been stationed there to watch her house.

Three days later she found a dead crow in her locker.

CHAPTER.

THIRTEEN.

I'M NOT GOING TO SCREAM, Sarah told herself. I will not scream.

She would handle this in an adult way. She would report this atrocity to somebody in authority. But who should that somebody be? Ted's cla.s.sroom was right down the hall, and they were between cla.s.s periods, but by now she had learned the hard way that it was useless to turn to Ted for anything.

I'll go over his head, she thought. I'll go to the princ.i.p.al.

She had never met Mr. Prue, although she had seen him at a.s.semblies-a short, balding man with wire-rimmed gla.s.ses who wore neckties with pictures on them. All she knew about him as a person were the things that Eric had told her, which had not sounded appealing. But whatever his failings, he was, after all, the princ.i.p.al.

With the thought that the person who had planted the crow might be there in the crowded hall watching her, she was careful to keep her face expressionless as she went to the rest room and brought back a large wad of paper towels. By the time she had wrapped up the feathered corpse, trying her best to avoid physical contact, the third-period bell had rung and the hall had emptied out.

Carrying the bundle at arm's length, she went down the hall to the princ.i.p.al's office.