"Where you going, Bozo?" Monica asked. "We just walked past Station Four."

He stopped, looked over his shoulder, and saw the 4 painted on the wall of the hallway. "Ah," he said. Then, trying to smile at Monica, he said, "Thanks."

With a smug smile, she said, "I think you'd lose your head if it wasn't attached."

"Maybe."

He pressed the Play button.

He expected Janice's voice, but Maggie's came on instead. "When the beast couldn't get into Lilly's room, it turned around and came prowling down the hall this way, looking for someone to kill. It sniffed its way along like a bloodhound."

Owen glanced toward the attic door, but too many people were in the way and he couldn't see the guide.

What if she's gone?

Never mind, he told himself. Just ignore her and enjoy the tour.

Sure.

"It smelled Lilly's kids," Maggie was saying. "It tracked their scent all the way down the hall, and found them in their bedroom. This is it, right here. Come on in."

While Owen waited for a man to step out, Maggie's voice was silent. He imagined her leading a group of tourists into the room, making sure they were all inside before resuming her speech.

"Here we are," she said.

Beyond the red cordon were twin, brass beds. The covers were thrown back and rumpled. The sheets were bright in the sunlight coming in through the windows, but spattered with dark stains.

The kids lay sprawled in the space between the beds. Their night-shirts had nearly been torn from their bodies. Shreds of the bloody fabric draped their buttocks.

"This is the bedroom where the children slept," Maggie said. "But I 'spect they were wide awake when the beast came after them. All the commotion was downstairs and way at the other end of the hall, but this ain't a real big house. And it's real quiet in the middle of the night. Noise carries. So they likely heard the beast slamming things around and pounding on their mama's door and roaring out its rage. If they heard it, they were too scared to move. All they could do was hide under their covers, the way kids do, froze up with fear and hoping it was just a bad dream and maybe it'd go away. Only it wasn't no dream, and it didn't go nowhere. It come for them.

"Earl was ten years old," Maggie said. "His brother, Sam, was only eight. They were both still in their beds when the beast got them. See the blood? They must've started off on their beds and ended up on the floor. Right there, that's where their bodies got found."

Maggie stopped talking. Owen expected Janice to come on. But a couple of seconds later, Maggie's voice returned. She said, slowly and low, "Imagine how scared they must've been, those little fellers. They likely reckoned it was the boogeyman.

But I bet they figured everything'd turn out all right and they'd get saved at the last minute. Only they didn't get saved. The beast got them.

"It didn't kill them right away. That would've been a blessing. We can't really know what all went on here, but there's reports of town-folk hearing the screams of children in the night. Far-off screams that went on for good long time. Nobody could figure just where they were coming from, but afterwards, they knew. It was Lilly's boys crying out in horror and agony while the beast tormented them.

"It's said that Lilly heard their screams when she was running down Front Street, and that's what unhinged her mind."

The tape went silent again for a few moments. Then Janice came on and said in a solemn voice, "With the deaths of Lilly's two sons, the rampage ended. The beast vanished, and its crimes were placed on the head of poor Gus Goucher. Nobody knew that there was a beast. Only Lilly, perhaps-and she had been reduced to manical babbling.

"Which may or may not have been faked.

"If your curiosity has been aroused, I suggest that you read my books and take advantage of the Midnight Tour. You'll be surprised and maybe even shocked by what you learn."

She paused for a moment or two, then started talking again. "After the attack on Lilly Thom's family on that horrible night in 1903, the house was abandoned. Nobody lived here again for twenty-eight years. Then, in 1931, it was purchased by Joseph Kutch. He moved in with his wife, Maggie, and their three children. But they were in the house for only two weeks before the beast struck.

"You may now move on to Station Five. Turn right just outside the door, and go down the corridor until you come to the top of the stairway. There, you'll hear Maggie begin to tell you about the night that the beast attacked her family."

He clicked the Stop button.

Monica looked at him and raised her eyebrows. "Done?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want to rewind? Maybe you missed a word or two."

"It's fine," he said. He turned around and started across the room.

Already picturing the tall, beautiful guide.

Get a good look at her, this time.

When he reached the doorway, he stepped aside and gestured for Monica to precede him. "Ladies first," he said.

She gave him a look as if she knew exactly why he wanted her ahead of him. With a smirk, she halted and said, "Age before beauty. You go first."

He shrugged. He smiled. "Okay. Just thought I should offer to protect your rear."

"My rear's fine."

"The beast likes to jump people from behind."

"Sure."

He stepped past Monica, turned right in the corridor, and walked slowly.

Slowly so she wouldn't sense his eagerness.

Slowly to give himself plenty of time for his inspection of the guide.

Already, his mouth was dry, his face hot, his heart pounding hard and fast.

He could see the attic door up ahead.

But so far, the guide was still out of sight. Too many people clutteced the hallway.

Why can't I spot her? She's taller than most of them.

No she isn't, he thought when he spied the pretty, young guide who was standing near the attic door. She isn't that tall or that beautiful.

How the hell did I...?

After a moment of shocked perplexity, he realized that this was not the same guide he'd seen earlier.

He felt a surge of relief.

Mixed with disappointment.

Where is she? Where'd she go? Maybe went on a break. Maybe she's gone for lunch.

What if I don't get to see her again?

As he approached the replacement, he heard her talking to a small group of people who were gathered near the open attic door. "The attic's never been part of the regular tour."

He stopped to listen.

"It's just not very safe. I do take people up there during the Midnight Tour every Saturday night. But that's a small, carefully supervised group. We can't leave it open for the general public. There aren't floorboards everywhere. Also, there's a lot of clutter. Too many places where the beast might be lurking." She grinned.

According to the nametag on her chest, she was LYNN.

"We don't want to lose anybody," she said.

Owen wanted to ask where the other guide had gone, but he didn't dare.

Monica would flip out.

"If we wait here long enough," Monica whispered, "maybe she'll turn into the beauty queen."

"Very funny," Owen told her.

He started walking again.

Where is she?

He stopped at Station Five, in the corridor a few feet beyond the top of the stairs.

Monica, stopping beside him, thumbed the Play button on her player.

Owen started his tape.

What if she's gone for the day? What if I never see her again?

I can't let that happen, he told himself.

"We lived sixteen nights in this house," Maggie said, "before the beast struck."

Chapter Eleven.

SANDY'S STORY-August, 1980 Sandy carried Eric down the wobbly stairs in his travel basket-a wicker bassinet with a closed lid and handles at both ends. Worried about the slippery steps, she moved slowly and carefully. She sighed with relief when her feet met the ground. She set down the basket.

Together, she and Lib lifted the stairway and shoved it inside her trailer. Lib stepped out of the way. Sandy swung the door shut.

Turning around, she found her new friend picking up Eric's basket by its two handles.

"We gonna keep him in dis?" Lib asked.

"We'd better. In case we get stopped."

"Poor little pucker."

"I don't think he minds. It seems pretty nice and cozy in there. And he's got his favorite dolls."

"Can he breet okay?"

"Sure. All kinds of air gets in. He'll be fine. Let's just put him in the back seat."

Sandy hurried ahead and opened the back door. Then she took the basket from Lib and lowered it onto the floor in front of the seat. It was a fairly tight squeeze. The wicker made dry, crackling sounds. Sandy figured that the tightness was good for Eric's safety in case of a crash.

She stepped back and shut the door.

"I guess I'll drive," she said.

"How come?" asked Lib.

"You're drunk as a skunk."

"Well, dat ain't nebber stopped me."

"You polished off the whole bottle."

"It weren't pull in da pirst place."

"Anyway, you aren't in any shape to drive. Even if you weren't polluted, you just got the crap pounded out of you and half your teeth knocked out."

"Hap ob 'em? Nah. Lots, dough."

"Go on and get in. You can drive later if you feel like it."

"Who says I wanta?"

Sandy shrugged, then opened the passenger door. When Lib was in, she shut the door and hurried around the front. She climbed into the driver's seat.

"Ya ebber towed sometin'?" Lib asked.

"No," Sandy said, and started the engine.

"Here." Reaching over, Lib pulled the shift lever backward from Park to Low. "Try dis. And go slow."