Due west of Syosset was a tract of woods in a place called Muttontown. Brill told us all we had to do was continue on Eastwood for five miles and it would take us through the pines. Along that road, amid the trees, there were some old cabins that had at one time been summer places. Since the Depression had hit, the owner had begun renting out the few that were still in decent shape for a few dollars a month. Morgan Shaw, alias Lydia Hush, supposedly lived in one of those places. No running water, no electricity. As he explained, it was merely a roof over her head. She walked to work, and showered and ate when she could at the nursing home.

We found the half dozen or so old run-down structures, spread out over an area of about three acres and hidden beneath the deep shade of tall pines. Antony pulled the car off the road and in among the trees. We got out, and Sch.e.l.l motioned for us to follow him. He picked the first place we came to that had a trail of smoke issuing from its chimney, walked up to the front door, and knocked. A woman in a plain cotton shift answered. In her arms was a baby, and there were two other little kids standing behind her. She wore that blank, stunned expression that seemed to me to be the mask of poverty. I'd seen it in the city on men standing around a trash barrel fire and in newspaper photos of whole families out west, trapped in the Dust Bowl.

"Sorry to bother you, ma'am," said Sch.e.l.l, "but I am looking for a young woman who lives in one of these cabins. Her name is Morgan Shaw. She's got long very blonde hair, almost white. Do you know her?" The woman stared for a moment as if she didn't understand. "I might," she finally said. "Who wants to know?"

"Mr. Lincoln is inquiring," said Sch.e.l.l, and a five-dollar bill appeared in his hand. I was somewhat put off by the cra.s.sness of this approach, playing on the woman's situation, but I'll admit it was successful. Her eyes lit up, and she s.n.a.t.c.hed the bill from his hand.

"Cabin number six," she said. "All the way in the back. The one with the yellow curtain." She then shut the door, and I could hear the lock bolt slide home.

"Five dollars must go a long way here," I said to Sch.e.l.l as he started toward cabin six. He looked somewhat sheepishly at me and said, "It all doesn't have to be difficult, does it?" I wasn't quite sure what he meant.

"You probably could have gotten away with three," said Antony.

A few minutes later, we stood in front of the cabin with the yellow curtain. Sch.e.l.l put his finger to his lips and motioned with his hand for Antony to go around back in case she tried to escape that way. Then he reached in his pocket and retrieved his key ring. Singling out the one long thin key with a tiny hook at the end, he held the skeleton key up for me to see. He tossed the set to me and pointed at the door. I knew what to do. He'd let me practice with the key on the lock of the Bugatorium door since I was ten. I worked the lock like a pro, and in a minute the door was open a sliver. Sch.e.l.l grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me away before I could enter. He pushed on the door, letting it swing slowly inward. Only after he had looked around the interior of the cabin did he step over the threshold. "Okay," he said to me and waved me in.

The place was tiny, barely enough room for a bed, a little wood-burning stove, a chair, and a desk. There were no closets, and whoever lived there, I supposed it was Lydia/Morgan, appeared to store her things in cardboard boxes. Even though the one window over the bed let in some light, it was still dim and somewhat dank as well, smelling of mold and the pine scent of the trees outside. There was a tattered, well-worn old rug, rumpled and lying askew on the floor, bearing a faded maroon and green floral design. Two candles in old-fashioned copper holders sat on either side, and a hurricane lamp rested on the floor between the end of the bed and the desk. A small anemic-looking plant grew in a clay pot on the windowsill.

"A tidy little ship," said Antony from the doorway, having just come around from the rear of the cabin after finding no evidence of Lydia/Morgan.

"This place reminds me too much of the shack we found Charlotte Barnes in," I said.

"Yeah," said Antony, "I know what you mean."

"Well, perish the thought, gentlemen," said Sch.e.l.l, "because I think our best bet of finding Miss Shaw will be to stake this place out. We might be here for a while."

"Boss, I better go hide the car," said Antony. "She knows it, and if she sees it, she'll run."

"Good idea," said Sch.e.l.l.

After Antony left, I took a seat on the desk chair and Sch.e.l.l settled down on the bed, the springs of which squealed unmercifully beneath his weight. "The yellow curtains are a nice touch," he said. I nodded. We sat in silence, and I listened to the sound of the wind quietly whistling through a small crack in the corner of the window, the boughs of the trees outside creaking. I could imagine how cold and lonely it must get there late at night and began to feel a measure of sympathy for our quarry. It also struck me, as I looked around, just how well Sch.e.l.l had provided for me from the time I had first come to stay with him.

Antony returned after a few minutes and closed the door behind him. Seeing Sch.e.l.l on the bed, he turned to me and pointed his thumb over his shoulder, evicting me from the only other seat. "Curtain call, junior," he said. I got up and sat on the floor in the middle of the musty rug, crossing my legs Indian style. As Antony eased into the chair, I told him I hoped the legs broke.

"You look like a real swami now," he said.

Sch.e.l.l looked over and smiled vacantly, then turned his gaze back out the window. He had a silver dollar in his left hand that he was rolling across his knuckles from pinky to thumb and back again.

"One thing I want to know," said Antony, "is what we are going to call Lydia Hush now. I'm confused."

"We'll ask her what she prefers when she shows up," said Sch.e.l.l. That was the last thing any of us said for a long time. An hour, pa.s.sed, and eventually I lay down on my side and used my turban as a makeshift pillow. Closing my eyes, I was heading for a catnap when I heard something odd, something very faint below the whisper of the wind and the soughing of the branches. It was slow and regular, like the sound of someone breathing. I sat up and looked over at Antony but soon realized that the noise wasn't coming from him, nor was it coming from Sch.e.l.l.

"Have a bad dream?" asked Antony, who sat leaning back in the chair with his hat pulled down over his eyes.

I lay back on the floor, and after a moment or two heard the rhythmic sound again. This time I could place it. There was something or someone under the rug. I got slowly to my feet and kicked Antony in the bottom of his shoe. He sat up and looked at me, was about to speak, but I motioned for him to be quiet. Sch.e.l.l turned around, and I put my finger to my lips. With my other hand, I pointed at the floor. He gave me a quizzical look, so I walked over to him and whispered in his ear, "There's someone under the floor. I heard them breathing."

Sch.e.l.l stood up. Antony was already on his feet. I stepped off the rug, and each of them leaned over and took a corner. They folded it back to reveal the outline of a small trapdoor. At the midway point, along the edge on the left-hand side, was a bra.s.s ring handle sunk into a small recessed metal square that lay even with the level of the floor. Sch.e.l.l moved around the folded rug, crouched down, and pulled on the handle. As the trapdoor opened, Antony and I stepped closer to look in.

There, in a four-foot-by-four-foot square shallow depression in the ground, lay Lydia Hush. A blanket covered the bare dirt beneath her, and she rested on her side, her knees gathered up close to her chest, her head bent forward so that her chin touched her knees. She wore nothing but a man's flannel shirt. The paleness of her long legs and the brightness of her hair seemed to glow in the dark hole.

"Okay, Miss Hush, or should I say, Miss Shaw, come on out of there," said Sch.e.l.l. Her eyes opened. She turned her head to look up at us, and she smiled. "Gentlemen," she said. Sch.e.l.l reached a hand down to her. She grasped it and with a little maneuvering managed to stand up. Antony went over to the bed and stripped the cover off. As she emerged from underground, stepping up into the light, he draped the quilt around her as if she were royalty preparing for a procession. She thanked him and then stepped over to the chair and sat down. After I had closed the trapdoor and replaced the rug, we stood around her like three children waiting to hear a story.

"Perhaps we should start at the beginning," said Sch.e.l.l.

Morgan Shaw's bottom lip began to tremble and tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

NOTHING TO HIDE.

Sch.e.l.l handed her his handkerchief, and we stood by while she vented her sorrow. Antony looked like he was on the verge of tears himself by the time she finally stopped crying and began to dry her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just that things have been so hard lately. I'm scared."

"You've got nothing to be frightened of with us," said Sch.e.l.l.

"They're after me," she said.

"Who's after you?" I asked.

"I don't know, but since the Barnes thing, some men have been after me. They've come here, looking for me. I live so far back from the road, I can hear when someone's coming and I hide."

"How many times have they been here?" asked Sch.e.l.l.

"Three times," she said. "I thought you were them."

"What do they want?"

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head.

"If you don't mind my asking," said Antony, "how do you manage to get in the floor and have the rug lie down on top of the secret door?"

"Oh, I worked that out a while ago," she said. "I figured out a way to roll the rug back halfway and lightly tuck it under the edge. I only open the door enough to just about slip in, and when I let it fall back down, the impact loosens the rug and it rolls down flat."

"Ingenious," said Sch.e.l.l. "But now let's get to the real question. How did you know where the Barnes girl would be?"

"Yes, the real question," she said. Even wrapped in that blanket with her hair a tangle from having been under the floor, she was beautiful. She turned to Antony and put her first two fingers up to her lips. The big man reached into his jacket pocket and took out his cigarettes. With a flick of his wrist, one slid a quarter of the way out of the pack. She took it, put it in her mouth, and he had the lighter ready. She took a drag, flicked an ash onto the floor, and said to Sch.e.l.l, "You don't know the half of it."

"I'll settle for any part of it," he said.

"Charlotte Barnes wasn't the first child killed," she said. "Two years ago there was a little boy down in Amityville who was found murdered too. You can check it out with the newspapers, but it wasn't on page one. In fact it wasn't even on page three. It was buried back in the paper, in a tiny little article. The kid's father was a Negro, so he was picked up and charged with the murder. I don't think he was guilty. It was at that time that I got the first note."

"About the murder?" asked Sch.e.l.l.

"Not the murder but where the body was going to be. I had just moved into this dump, after leaving the city. I was here no more than two weeks when, one night, I heard someone moving around outside the cabin. I can't tell you how scared I was. From then on, I slept with a butcher knife I stole from the kitchen at the nursing home.

"I asked my neighbor if she ever heard strange noises at night. She told me it was probably just deer-but deer don't leave bouquets of wildflowers on your doorstep now do they? Sometimes I'd find flowers, or little broken toys or pennies. It was bizarre. I couldn't go to the police because there were certain people from my past who I didn't want to find me. Then one morning, I found a piece of paper with a scrawled map on it and some words. The words made no sense, but the map had a crude picture of an old house, busted windows, door hanging off, and a three-digit number written with two backward numeral. Okay, just strange, right?

"About a week later, I was at the nursing home, having my lunch, and reading the paper. I was reading about this kid who'd been kidnapped in Amityville. They'd found his body in an abandoned house, and they gave the address. The three-digit number was the same as on the map that had been left." Antony whistled.

"There's more," she said. "There was another kid earlier this year from out east on the island. Her parents were migrant workers, you know, for the potato farms out in Patchogue. Again, nothing much was made of it. I forget who took the rap for that one, but I knew where they were going to find her before they did."

"The same happened with the Barnes girl?" asked Sch.e.l.l.

"When Charlotte Barnes went missing, I knew it wasn't just an isolated thing. I might have been the only other person who knew besides the killer, because the cops sure weren't onto it. I'd been learning the cold reading from Lester, and I thought that maybe I could save the Barneses a little grief by showing them where their daughter was and test out my skills..."

"And make some money in the deal," said Sch.e.l.l.

"You, of all people, aren't going to give me the holier-than-thou line now are you?" she asked. Sch.e.l.l shook his head.

"You can see where I'm living; I needed the dough, and they needed to find their girl. Lester taught me well, because I was able to convince both of them that I had the gift. When you gentlemen came on the scene, you presented me with a chance to lead them to the body and not have to be involved if there was an investigation."

"You buy that, Boss?" asked Antony.

"It's kind of far-fetched," said Sch.e.l.l.

"I don't care if you believe me or not. I've got nothing to hide," she said.

"Well, you're a better con than I gave you credit for," said Sch.e.l.l.

"That whole wifty act was part of my Lydia Hush routine," she said. "I don't want to go into what I was involved in when I was in the city, but I know how to string someone along."

"How do I know you're not lying to me now?" said Sch.e.l.l.

"Look, I admit I played them, but at the same time, I felt for those people and their kid."

"We have to figure out who's leaving you these messages," said Antony.

"That's the thing," she said. "There was a new one two nights ago. Let me get it." She turned around to the desk, leaned over to open the bottom drawer, and pulled out an envelope. Swiveling back around, she pulled a folded piece of paper from within it. As the paper came forth dried flower petals drifted to the floor. "This one's different from the others. It's just a map," she said, "and you can make out some of the road names, even though there are some letters backward and missing. It's also got a picture of a big house, but nothing about whether it's a boy or girl this time."

"May I?" asked Sch.e.l.l. He looked at it. "Antony," he said, "do you have a map in the car?"

"I'm on it, Boss," said the big man, already heading for the door.

"Now, gentlemen, I want you two to go outside for a minute while I get changed."

"You won't disappear on us again, will you?" asked Sch.e.l.l.

"Where am I going to go, up the chimney?"

Sch.e.l.l and I stepped outside and closed the door behind us. By then it was late afternoon, and it was starting to get cold. Leaves from the occasional oak tree fell here and there.

"I believe her," I said.

"I do too," said Sch.e.l.l. "For some reason it's hard not to."

"Obviously, whoever is leaving her the notes must know her," I said.

"Or know about her," said Sch.e.l.l. "She referred to her time in the city. I can imagine what that was about."

"What do you mean?"

"Forget it," he said.

A few minutes pa.s.sed and then the door opened and she called to us. She had dressed in a gray skirt and jacket, a violet blouse, and simple, flat shoes. Her hair was pulled back, and she reminded me of a librarian. As we traipsed back into the cabin, Antony returned, and I held the door for him.

"Let's see your note," the big man said to Morgan, and she handed it to him. He sat down at the desk, opened the map from the car, and spread it out in front of him. Then he pulled one of the candle-holders close, and lit the wick with his cigarette lighter. A warm glow rose in a small circle around him, and he carefully laid Morgan's note next to the larger map. Out came the cheaters. He ceremoniously positioned them on the bridge of his nose and affixed them behind his ears. Sch.e.l.l and I each leaned over a shoulder.

It took Antony a long time to figure out what part of the island he should be looking at. He'd crane his neck forward, so that it was almost touching the paper, and then back away a little and squint. He'd follow the line of a road with his big thick finger and then retract the finger and say, "That's not it." Fifteen minutes later, all of us having grown weary of waiting, we were spread around the room, leaning against the walls. "Oh s.h.i.t," he finally said, and Sch.e.l.l moved across the room toward him. "What is it?" he asked.

"You're never going to believe this, Boss. But if I'm not mistaken, this drawing would lead you up by the sound."

"What area?" I asked.

"Forget area," said Antony, whipping off the cheaters. "Straight to Parks's place."

KILL THE LIGHT.

If there was one thing that Sch.e.l.l couldn't stomach, it was fast, reckless driving, and, when called upon, Antony was a master pract.i.tioner. As his foot increased its pressure on the gas peddle, a steady string of foul language issued from his mouth, increasing in intensity as the Cord picked up speed. He cursed the other vehicles, the b.u.mps in the road, the twilight. As scared as I was, I wanted him to go even faster, as my thoughts were consumed with Isabel's safety.

The boss sat in the back with Morgan Shaw, and I sat up front, my fingers dug into the cushion. Although there were times when I wanted to close my eyes, they remained open, as if welded so, out of morbid curiosity, not wanting to miss the tree or car that would ultimately be our end. We arrived at the front gate sometime after seven. The headlamps showed the guard's booth to be empty. Sch.e.l.l and I got out of the car and walked up to the gate. There was no one in sight, but Sch.e.l.l called out, "h.e.l.lo?" It was then that I saw something lying on the ground, only partially visible, behind the guard booth.

"There," I said to Sch.e.l.l and pointed to the body.

He took a quick look and called for Antony. The big man got out of the car, followed by Morgan.

"You're going to have to be a ladder for Diego here," said Sch.e.l.l. "Let him get on your shoulders." I looked up at the top of the gate, which was at least nine feet high, and inspected the tips of its pointed bars. The thought of scaling it made me weak in the knees. "I don't know if I can do this," I said.

"Come on, kid, climb aboard," said Antony as he crouched down to make it easier for me to step up onto his shoulders.

I hesitated, and in that moment, Morgan had slipped off her shoes and was lifting a leg high to get a foothold on Antony's left shoulder. He reached up and took her small hands in his giant mitts. Clasping them tightly, he slowly stood. Morgan settled her other foot on his right shoulder as they rose.

"We oughta join the circus," said Antony as he moved closer to the gate. She had to stand on her toes to reach the base of the spikes above the last crossbar. I doubted whether she would have the strength to pull herself up, but once she called Antony off and he stepped away, I could see her arms tense, and though they were thin, you could easily make out their long cablelike muscles.

"Good G.o.d, watch those spikes, Morgan," said Sch.e.l.l.

"Thanks," she said as she pulled herself straight up, and swung a leg out to the side to rest her toes on the crossbar. Once she managed to get a foothold, she made the rest seem easy. I looked over at Sch.e.l.l, and his mouth was agape as she lowered herself, hand over hand, to the ground.

"Get the keys off the guard," I said, but she was already at the task. In less than a minute, she had opened the gate. Antony and Sch.e.l.l each took a side and pushed it back enough so that the car could pa.s.s through. I went to check on the guard to see if he was still alive. As soon as I crouched down next to him, I sensed something was terribly amiss. I had reached for his wrist to find a pulse and then suddenly became aware that, although he was lying on his back, his head was turned facedown. Calling to the others, I stood and stepped slowly away from the corpse.

"Broken neck," said Sch.e.l.l.

Morgan grunted, turning away from the sight. "I never even noticed."

"Somebody'd have to be pretty strong to do that," said Antony.