Carlene Thompson - Don

"I'm having a brainstorm," she said to the dog as she turned the key in the ignition. "Ready for a trip to your old stomping ground?"

Blaine panted. Clearly a yes to her brilliant idea. Her only idea.

Natalie took a shortcut to Hyacinth Lane, one that cut the trip to less than half a mile and one she was sure Jimmy knew. She turned onto the lane, not looking at the darkened windows of Tam's house. Too depressing. Halfway up Hyacinth Lane the ruts and potholes threatened to knock the car out of alignment. She stopped. "Rest of the way on foot and paw, Blaine." She opened the glove compartment and withdrew a flashlight. Then she picked up Paige's small sock and held it under Blaine 's nose. The dog sniffed obediently and thoroughly. "Okay, girl, show me what a good tracker you are." Natalie said. "Find Paige."

She unhooked the leash and opened the car door. Blaine jumped out, looked around, then loped a few feet in the direction of the Saunders house before looking back at Natalie as if to say, "Well, come on!" Natalie followed, careful to act calm and be silent so she wouldn't distract the dog. Disappointed, she saw that Blaine did not sniff the ground. She acted as if this were merely a casual walk. Maybe it was useless. Perhaps the dog did not track. Perhaps Paige had not been on Hyacinth Lane.

Natalie caught up with Blaine and held the sock under her nose again. She sniffed. She looked around. She ambled forward. Then, abruptly, she dipped her head, touching her nose to a fallen leaf. Her ears perked up and she galloped forward.

Natalie picked up her pace. The gloom of the day lingered, dulling the night. A weak moon cast murky light on the rutted lane being strangled by flourishing honeysuckle vines and multiflora roses. Chills rushed down her arms and she wished she'd remembered to put on a sweater as cool lake winds whispered through the trees.

But the whispering wind wasn't the only sound in the darkness. Natalie slowed, feeling as if her own ears were perking up like Blaine 's. Music. Not the slow, haunting music that would be in harmony with the somber evening. Loud, rollicking music, electric guitars blasting into the darkness, powerful male voices wailing a warning into the night:

Don't close your eyes, He's waiting for you…

"What on earth?" she muttered, listening as the music rose, shuddering through the woods. Two birds soared in tandem, startled from sleep, and something rustled in the brush to her right. Her gaze darted sideways, expecting to see an animal rushing toward her. Instead the rustling moved in the opposite direction as she spotted moonlight shining on metal. She moved closer. Two bicycles. Her hunch had been right. Paige and Jimmy had gone to the Saunders house- the house from which rock music roared.

Natalie's breath came quick and shallow as she ran, keeping her gaze on the lane so she wouldn't step in a hole and twist her ankle. The dog raced ahead with enviable canine speed. She tried to search for possible explanations for the music, but nothing would come except the image of two faces-Paige's and Jimmy's, both bright-eyed, eager, and inquisitive. Maybe too inquisitive. Maybe fatally inquisitive.

No. She wouldn't think that way. She would concentrate on her breathing, her footing-

A high-pitched shriek froze her heart. She plunged forward, every ounce of her energy directed to her flight. Then she saw forms ahead on the lane. Blaine bouncing around excitedly. A boy saying, "It's just a dog, Paige! Come on!"

"Paige! Jimmy!" Natalie called breathlessly.

"Oh, no!" Natalie heard Paige exclaim.

"It's Natalie," she huffed. Blaine ran to her, then back to the children twenty feet away. "Are you all right?"

"Natalie?" Paige wavered. "Is my dad with you?"

"No." Natalie stopped in front of them. "I went by your house and you were missing. I came looking for you by myself. What are you doing here?"

"The killer is in the Saunders house!" Jimmy burst out. "We saw him before. It's a great hiding place. We came back tonight to get a picture. And we did!" He waved a rectangle of paper in front of Natalie. "Look!"

"The killer? A picture?" Natalie took the photo and flipped on her flashlight. She saw the blurred image of someone in a white robe. "What's he doing?"

"Dancing to that music! And it's a she. Real long blond hair."

"Long blond hair?" Natalie repeated. "Is she young-"

The booming music stopped so suddenly that all three jumped. The woods fell eerily silent. Paige tensed. "She's coming after us! She's gonna kill us!"

A scream ripped through the night. Not the shrill yelp of surprise Paige had emitted when Blaine had rushed toward her in the darkness. This scream vibrated with pure, depthless terror. Another followed, then another, each more shattering than the last.

Blaine barked. Paige clutched Natalie's arm. Even the indomitable Jimmy quailed.

"What's that?" Paige whimpered.

"Someone in bad trouble." Natalie looked at Jimmy. "Grab your bike, go home, and call the police. Take Paige with you."

"What about you?" Jimmy managed.

Another scream rent the night. "Just go! Wow!"

The children darted around her and pounded down the lane toward their bikes. Natalie hesitated. She should go with the children. Or stay where she was. God knew what was going on in that house.

Another chilling, agonized scream. Blaine barked frenziedly and lunged forward. Without thought, Natalie followed.

She hadn't realized how close she was to the house until within seconds its bulk loomed ahead of her. Flickering light spilled from the windows onto the ragged growth that had once been a lawn. Candlelight. No. The light didn't flicker, it leaped. Bigger flames than candles could create.

Blaine was ahead of her, running back and forth in front of the house, barking wildly. Natalie hesitated again as the shadow of the house fell over her. Then she thought of what the children had said. The killer was a she with long blond hair. Alison. She knew it. But there had been the screams and now the fire. What if Alison wasn't the killer but the victim?

The door of the house stood open. Natalie stepped cautiously into a musty hall. To her left was a darkened room. To her right light glimmered through the doorway of another room. She moved toward it, her heart thudding. A thin veil of smoke floated toward her, enough to sting her eyes and nose, not enough to make her cough. She put her hand over her nose, took a deep breath and held it. Then she crept into the room.

Candles everywhere. A body lying facedown on the floor, pale blond hair spilling around the head, flames eating at a long, white gown.

Natalie rushed forward, grabbing up a small rug as she assessed the extent of the fire. Not bad. She slapped the rug down on the burning edge of the robe. Once, twice, three times. Then the overturned candle beside the body, then the small pillow whose foam rubber stuffing puffed most of the smoke. The wooden floor below, dampened by long years of moist lake air and no heat, merely smoldered.

Natalie tossed the rug onto the wood and stepped on it a few times. Satisfied that she'd extinguished all of the minor fire, she pulled the body away from the scorched flooring, turned it over, and swept back the blond hair. Alison Cosgrove's eyes remained closed, her face deathly white, as blood oozed from the ugly gash on her delicate neck.

Sirens. Flashing lights. Police cars. An ambulance. Emergency technicians. Cops. A frantic, shouting Nick Meredith.

"Where is my daughter? Is she all right? What are you doing here, Natalie? Do you have a death wish or something?"

"Will you just calm down?" Natalie begged. "No one can tell you anything while you're standing here bellowing."

"Pardon me for raising my voice, but I want to know WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!"