"No. I don't know anyone by that name."

Deputy Blake sat there studying Ashley, frustrated. "Miss Patterson, would you mind coming down to headquarters and taking a polygraph test? If you want to, you can call your lawyer and-"

"I don't need a lawyer. I'll be glad to take a test."

The polygraph expert was a man named Keith Rosson, and he was one of the best. He had had to cancel a dinner date, but he was happy to oblige Sam Blake.

Ashley was seated in a chair, wired to the polygraph machine. Rosson had already spent forty-five minutes chatting with her, getting background information and evaluating her emotional state. Now he was ready to begin.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Yes."

"Good. Let's start." He pressed a b.u.t.ton. "What's your name?"

"Ashley Patterson."

Rosson's eyes kept darting between Ashley and the polygraph printout.

"How old are you, Miss Patterson?"

"Twenty-eight."

"Where do you live?"

"10964 Via Camino Court in Cupertino."

"Are you employed?"

"Yes."

"Do you like cla.s.sical music?"

"Yes."

"Do you know Richard Melton?"

"No."

There was no change on the graph.

"Where do you work?"

"At Global Computer Graphics Corporation."

"Do you enjoy your job?"

"Yes."

"Do you work five days a week?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever met Jean Claude Parent?"

"No."

Still no change on the graph.

"Did you have breakfast this morning?"

"Yes."

"Did you kill Dennis Tibbie?"

"No."

The questions continued for another thirty minutes and were repeated three times, in a different order.

When the session was over, Keith Rosson walked into Sam Blake's office and handed him the polygraph test. "Clean as a whistle. There's a less than one percent chance that she's lying. You've got the wrong person."

Ashley left police headquarters, giddy with relief. Thank G.o.d it's over. Thank G.o.d it's over. She had been terrified that they might ask questions that would involve her father, but that had not happened. She had been terrified that they might ask questions that would involve her father, but that had not happened. No one can connect father with any of this now. No one can connect father with any of this now.

She parked her car in the garage and took the elevator up to her apartment floor. She unlocked the door, went inside and carefully locked the door behind her. She felt drained, and at the same time, elated. A nice hot bath, A nice hot bath, Ashley thought. She walked into the bathroom and turned dead white. On her bathroom mirror, someone had scrawled in bright red lipstick YOU WILL DIE. Ashley thought. She walked into the bathroom and turned dead white. On her bathroom mirror, someone had scrawled in bright red lipstick YOU WILL DIE.

Chapter Nine.

SHE was fighting hysteria. Her fingers were trembling so hard that she dialed three times trying to reach the number. She took a deep breath and tried again. Two...nine...nine...two...one...zero...one...The phone began to ring. was fighting hysteria. Her fingers were trembling so hard that she dialed three times trying to reach the number. She took a deep breath and tried again. Two...nine...nine...two...one...zero...one...The phone began to ring.

"Sheriff's Office."

"Deputy Blake, please. Hurry!"

"Deputy Blake has gone home. Can someone else-?"

"No! I-Would you ask him to call me? This is Ashley Patterson. I need to talk to him right away."

"Let me put you on hold, miss, and I'll see if I can reach him."

Deputy Sam Blake was patiently listening to his wife, Serena, screaming at him. "My brother works you like a horse, day and night, and he doesn't give you enough money to support me decently. Why don't you demand a raise? Why?" Why?"

They were at the dinner table. "Would you pa.s.s the potatoes, dear?"

Serena reached over and slammed the dish of potatoes in front of her husband. "The trouble is that they don't appreciate you.

"You're right, dear. May I have some gravy?"

"Aren't you listening to what I'm saying?" she yelled.

"Every word, my love. This dinner is delicious. You're a great cook."

"How can I fight you, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d, if you won't fight back?"

He took a mouthful of veal. "It's because I love you, darling."

The telephone rang. "Excuse me." He got up and picked up the receiver. "h.e.l.lo .. . Yes...Put her through... Miss Patterson?" He could hear her sobbing.

"Something-something terrible has happened. You've got to come over here right away."

"I'm on my way."

Serena got to her feet. "What? "What? You're going out? We're in the middle of dinner!" You're going out? We're in the middle of dinner!"

"It's an emergency, darling. I'll be back as soon as I can." She watched him strap on his gun. He leaned over and kissed her. "Wonderful dinner."

Ashley opened the door for him the instant he arrived. Her cheeks were tear stained. She was shivering.

Sam Blake stepped into the apartment, looking around warily.

"Is anyone else here?"

"S-someone was was here." She was fighting for self-control. "L-look..." She led him to the bathroom. here." She was fighting for self-control. "L-look..." She led him to the bathroom.

Deputy Blake read the words on the mirror out loud: "You will die."

He turned to Ashley. "Do you have any idea who could have written that?"

"No," Ashley said. "This is my apartment. No one else has a key... And someone has been coming in here... Someone's been following me. Someone's planning to kill me." She burst into tears. "I can't s-stand this any longer."

She was sobbing uncontrollably. Deputy Blake put his arm around her and patted her shoulder. "Come on. It's going to be all right. We'll give you protection, and we'll find out who's behind this."

Ashley took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I-I don't usually carry on like this. It's-it's just been horrible."

"Let's talk," Sam Blake said.

She managed to force a smile. "All right."

"How about a nice cup of tea?"

They sat talking over cups of hot tea. "When did all this start, Miss Patterson?"

"About-about six months ago. I felt I was being followed. At first it was just a vague feeling, but then it began to grow. I knew knew I was being followed, but I couldn't see anyone. Then at work, someone got into my computer and drew a picture of a hand with a knife in it trying to-to stab me." I was being followed, but I couldn't see anyone. Then at work, someone got into my computer and drew a picture of a hand with a knife in it trying to-to stab me."

"And do you have any idea who it could have been?"

"No."

"You said someone has gotten into this apartment before today?"

"Yes. Once, someone turned on all the lights when I was gone. Another time I found a cigarette b.u.t.t on my dressing table. I don't smoke. And someone opened a drawer and went through my .. . my underwear." She took a deep breath. "And now...this."

"Do you have any boyfriends who might feel rejected?"

Ashley shook her head. "No."

"Have you had any business dealings where somebody's lost money because of you?"

"No."

"No threats from anyone?"

"No." She thought of telling him about the lost weekend in Chicago, but that might involve mentioning her father. She decided to say nothing.

"I don't want to be alone here tonight," Ashley said.

"All right. I'll call the station and have them send someone here to-"

"No! Please! I'm afraid to trust anyone else. Could you stay here with me, just until morning?"

"I don't think I-"

"Oh, please." She was trembling.

He looked into her eyes and thought he had never seen anyone so terrified.

"Isn't there someplace you could stay tonight? Don't you have any friends who-?"

"What if it's one of my friends who's doing this?"

He nodded. "Right. I'll stay. In the morning, I'll arrange for twenty-four-hour protection for you."

"Thank you." Her voice was filled with relief.

He patted Ashley's hand. "And don't worry. I promise you that we'll get to the bottom of this. Let me call Sheriff Dowling and tell him what's going on."

He spoke on the phone for five minutes, and when he hung up, he said, "I'd better call my wife."

"Of course."

Deputy Blake picked up the telephone again and dialed. "h.e.l.lo, darling. I won't be home tonight, so why don't you watch some tel-?"

"You won't what? what? Where are you, with one of your cheap wh.o.r.es?" Where are you, with one of your cheap wh.o.r.es?"