John Saul - Nathaniel

"Oh, Michael," Janet breathed. "Grandpa wouldn't hurt you. He wouldn't hurt you for the world. He loves you."

"No, he doesn't," Michael replied, snuggling closer to his mother and twining his arms around her. "I saw what happened! I didn't stab my own foot-it was Grandpa! He was going to stab me. He was trying to kill me!"

Janet gasped. "Stab you? What are you talking about, Michael?"

"W-with the pitchfork. He was going to stab me with the pitchfork, just like he did to Daddy."

A chill ran through Janet, and her arms tightened around the terrified boy. "No, honey. That's wrong. Daddy fell. He fell from the loft, and landed on the fork. It was an accident. Grandpa wasn't even there."

"He was!" Michael wriggled free from her arms and sat up. Even in the dim light, his eyes were flashing angrily. "He was there! I saw him!"

Suddenly Shadow leaped up onto the bed, and Michael slipped his arms around the big dog's neck. "We saw it, didn't we, Shadow? We saw it!"

With a sinking feeling, Janet realized there was going to be no arguing with Michael. "All right," she said softly. "I won't try to tell you what you saw and what you didn't see." Michael seemed to relax a little, and Janet reached out to take his hand. Shadow growled softly, then subsided. "Why don't we put Shadow outside tonight," she suggested. "Then you can sleep with me."

"But Shadow likes to sleep with me-"

"I'll bet he'd like to spend a night outside," Janet countered. "Wouldn't you, Shadow?" The dog's tail moved slightly. "See? He's wagging his tail."

Michael looked at the dog, then reached out to scratch his ears. "Is that okay?" he asked, and as if he understood his master, this time the dog truly wagged his tail. Janet stood up.

"Okay, I'll put him out, and you go crawl into my bed. I'll be there in a minute. Come on, Shadow."

The dog sat up, but didn't move from the bed. Instead, his head swung around, and his eyes fixed expectantly on Michael.

"Go on, boy," Michael said softly. "Go with Mom."

Shadow jumped off the bed and followed Janet out of the little bedroom and down the stairs. Then, when she held the kitchen door open for him, he dashed out into the night. She watched him lope off in the direction of Ben Findley's place, but after a few seconds the blackness of his coat blended into the darkness, and he was gone. Silently, Janet hoped the dog would be as invisible to the cranky old man as he was to her.

She toured the downstairs, turning off lights and checking doors and windows. Just before she put out the last light, she picked up Mark's letter and reread it, then reread Laura's note as well. At last she put both of them back into the envelope she'd found them in, and put the envelope into the bottom drawer of the desk, far in the back. Thoughtfully, she turned out the lights, went upstairs, undressed, and slipped into bed next to her son.

"Are you still awake?" she whispered.

Michael stirred, but made no reply.

"Sleep then," she said, her voice barely audible. "In the morning you'll have forgotten all about it."

"No, I won't," Michael replied, his voice echoing hollowly in the darkness. "I won't forget about it at all. Not ever." He fell silent for a moment, then stirred and turned over.

"Honey? Is something wrong?"

"Unh-unh," Michael replied. "I just have a headache, that's all."

"Do you want me to get you some aspirin?"

"Unh-unh. It's almost gone."

"You mean you've had it all evening?"

In the darkness, Michael shook his head. "I woke up with it," he said. "I had it in the dream, and then I still had it when I woke up. But it's almost gone now."

Janet lay awake for a long time, thinking about Michael. He'd grown quiet over the last few weeks, and even though he'd made up with Ryan, he still wasn't as close to his cousin-or any of the other children of the town-as she wished he were. And his feelings about his grandfather seemed to be getting almost obsessive.

And then, just before she drifted into sleep, she remembered Michael's words the day Ione had bought the Raggedy Ann.

"I bet they killed her… I bet they buried her in Potter's Field ."

No, Janet told herself. It's not possible. He's only imagining things. None of it is possible…

It was just after dawn when Amos Hall glanced out the kitchen window, frowning. "There's that damned dog again," he said softly. Anna's eyes followed his gaze, and in the distance she could see Shadow, his tail tucked between his legs, skulking outside the barn.

"If he's after those hens, I'll have his hide," she said, rolling herself toward the door. "You, Shadow, get out of here! Go home!"

The dog tensed, and his large head swung around so that he faced the house.

"That's right," Anna called. "I'm talking to you. Get on out of here!" Then, as Shadow disappeared around the corner of the barn, she turned back to Amos. "What's he doing over here this early? He never leaves Michael. Did you hear Janet's truck come in?"

"I didn't hear it, 'cause it didn't come in," Amos replied. He got up and went into the dining room, then the living room. A minute later he was back. "And Michael's bike's not around either. So he's not here, unless he hiked along the river. I'll go out and have a look behind the barn."

He left the house and strode across the yard toward the barn, then around the corner. There was nothing behind the barn, neither Shadow nor Michael. Puzzled, Amos came to a halt and surveyed the fields. The ripening grain, nearly three feet high, waved in the breeze, and Amos studied it for a few minutes, trying to find a spot where the boy and the dog could be hiding. And then, as the seconds went by, he began to have an odd sense of eyes watching him.

He turned around, half expecting to see Michael grinning at him, but there was nothing.

Nothing, except-still-the uneasy feeling of being watched. Finally, he looked up.

In the loft door, only his head visible, was Shadow. He was panting, and his mouth was half open, and he seemed to be staring down at Amos.

"What the- You, Shadow! Get down from there!" Shadow's hackles rose, and a low growl rumbled from his throat. He stayed where he was.

For a long moment the man and the dog stared at each other, and then Amos noticed that the door to the tack room was ajar. And yet he was sure he'd closed it last night, and he hadn't used it today.

Michael had to be around, and he must be inside the barn. Amos went inside the tack room, pulling the door closed behind him. "Michael? You in here, son?"

There was no answer, only a soft scratching sound overhead as Shadow moved across the loft floor.

"Come on, Michael," Amos called out a little louder. "I know you're in here. If you make me come and find you, you're going to regret it. And I want that dog of yours out of the barn right now!"

Still there was no answer, and Amos went on through the tack room and into the barn itself. Something scurried in the silence, and once again he heard Shadow prowling around the loft. Slowly, Amos walked down the center of the barn, inspecting the stalls one by one.

All of them were empty.

At last, when he was at the front of the barn, he turned to gaze upward to the loft.

Shadow gazed back at him.

"I know you're up there, Michael," Amos said. "Someone had to let that dog in here, and dogs don't climb ladders."

Still the silence in the barn was undisturbed.

Amos moved toward the foot of the ladder that led to the loft, and started up it. A second later, Shadow appeared at the open trapdoor at the top of the ladder, a soft snarl escaping his lips as he bared his fangs.

Amos stopped and stared upward, his heart beating a little faster. "Get that dog away, Michael," he commanded. After a few seconds, Shadow backed away from the trapdoor.