How can he say that? Calla wonders. Maybe it's the only way he can deal with what he did.

It seems like lately all she's done is listen to the adults in her life admit that they're flawed; that they've made serious mistakes.

Things were a lot easier back when she believed that growing up meant you were wise, and always knew what to do, and did the right thing.

"Thank you for coming,"her grandfather says, painstakingly hoisting himself up off the steps. "I wish I could ask you to stay, but my wife . . . she doesn't know about any of this. Yet."

"Yet?"Dad echoes. "Does that mean you're planning to tell her?"

"Yes. I'd like to get to know you, and my granddaughter. I just need time to make things right here. I hope you understand that."

Dad nods and shakes his hand as Jack says, "Thank you for telling me about Stephanie."

Then Jack turns to Calla, holding out his hand. She hesitates before clasping it.

Instead of shaking it, he puts his other hand around it and squeezes. His grasp is surprisingly strong, and warm.

"I'm sure you did your mother proud, young lady."

Tears spring to her eyes, and she swallows hard, unable to speak.

"I hope we'll meet again."He releases her hand.

"So do I,"she manages to say before her father puts an arm around her and, together, they walk through the darkness toward the car.

TWENTY-SIX.

New York City

Sat.u.r.day, October 13

7:05 a.m.

The first rays of sunlight bathe Laura's studio apartment in a soft pink glow as she zips the top of the ancient leather suitcase she found several months ago in the attic of the purple house.

Now, once again, she's packed it with all her worldly possessions- everything she brought with her to New York, plus the few outfits she managed to buy while she was here.

Looking around the room, she wonders if she'll ever see it again.

Maybe not. Maybe there's really nothing for her here in the city after all.

Perhaps it was merely a good place to get lost for a few months. A good place to figure out that she can survive on her own, here-or anywhere, really.

Maybe there's nothing for her in Geneseo, either, but she can't keep looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life.

It took her all night to figure that out, tossing restlessly and looking, every so often, over at the vase of calla lilies on the bedside table.

She still has no idea who sent them.

Liz Jessee is the only guess that remotely makes sense, but why wouldn't she own up to such a sweet gesture? Anyway, she has no idea that Laura is from western New York. If she were to surprise her with a ticket home, it would be to Minneapolis.

So it couldn't have been Liz.

Who else is there?

Father Donald.

Except, she hasn't been in touch with him since she left. He wouldn't know where to find her.

Laura picks up her suitcase and heads for the door.

The only thing that's certain is that she has a paid seat on a flight leaving New York City in just a few hours.

If she doesn't use it, she might not have another chance.

TWENTY-SEVEN.

Ithaca, New York

Sat.u.r.day, October 13

2:15 p.m.

"Please feel free to ask me any questions you might have,"the perky female student guide invites the group at the conclusion of a soggy campus walking tour of Cornell.

Dad looks at Calla beneath their shared umbrella. "Any questions, Cal'?"

She shakes her head. "No. Not really."Other than, Can we leave now?

Not just because-lovely and impressive as the university is-she's certain she doesn't want to come here.

But also because she's worried she's going to run into Kevin.

Especially now that he knows she and her father are here today.

This morning, when she and Dad called Odelia to check in, she reported that Kevin had called for her the night before.

Lisa must have told him the latest news. Calla had figured she would.

She hadn't expected him to call, though-much less for her grandmother to tell him where they were.

"I'm sorry-I felt like I should mention it,"Odelia said over the phone, to Calla's dismay. "In case you ran into him on campus, or something."

"It's okay,"she murmured.

After all, Kevin did offer to show her and Dad around if they came to see Cornell.

She feels guilty for not letting him know they were coming, but she could barely think straight in the days before the trip.

He gave Odelia his dorm phone number- and his cell, too, as if Calla doesn't already have it- and told her to have them call him.

Calla couldn't bring herself to do it.

She doesn't want to see him.

What are the odds that she'll run into him, in the s.p.a.ce of a few hours, on what she just learned is an almost eight-hundred-acre campus populated by twenty thousand students- not to mention the countless spirits she's seen wandering everywhere?

Slim to none.

Still, Calla won't breathe easy until they're back in the car and headed to Hamilton, where they'll tour Colgate University tomorrow morning, the last stop on the tour.

They didn't get into State College last night until after ten o'clock, but Dad insisted on driving her through the Penn State campus before heading to their hotel. This morning, they took an early-bird tour before driving almost three hours to Cornell, arriving just before the day's last scheduled tour started at one o'clock.

"Well, it's been great meeting you all,"the guide tells the small group of prospective students and their parents, "and I wish you luck, whether you wind up at Cornell next year or not."

Not, Calla thinks as the group disperses.

If she's learned anything today, it's that she doesn't want to be this far from home. The mountains and gorges of central Pennsylvania and New York State are scenic- breathtaking, even-but she misses Lily Dale already.

Enough that she's certain heading to Colgate will be a waste of time.

No, she's anxious to get back home and wait- or at least, hope-for word on her sister. Gammy said the detectives have had no luck finding Laura Logan so far, but they're searching.

"Are you hungry?"Dad asks as they leave the information center, heading toward the visitors' parking lot.

"A little."She idly watches a group of ghostly students in 1950s-style poodle skirts, bobby sox, and high ponytails cross their path.

"Why don't we go to lunch somewhere in town before we head out to Hamilton?"

"Dad, about that-"

"Calla!"

Startled to hear a male voice shout her name, she spins around.

Kevin.

TWENTY-EIGHT.

Geneseo, New York

Sat.u.r.day, October 13