Once

in a

Blue Moon

Linda Anderson

1

SILENCE  CLOAKED THE  OLD  LIBRARY,  Settling over the empty aisles and overburdened bookshelves like an old friend and invisible protector. The grandfather clock struck a solemn nine gongs.

Addie Rivers glanced up from her desk in surprise, then checked her watch. "Yep. Working late again, Addie," she said to herself.

Her mother would be worried, which was a major source of irritation for her twenty eight-year-old daughter. For a brief moment, Addie missed Buck's presence and his habit of driving her home every night. Buck had become a bit smothering lately, but he did get her home early enough to alleviate her mother's anxiety. Addie, however, loved the nights when she jogged home, and looked forward to her solo run tonight.

She reviewed the material on her computer and decided another thirty minutes would do it. Tomorrow was the first day of ghost stories for the children's hour. Halloween would be here soon, and the children loved each session as she built the suspense to a higher and higher pitch.

Outside, a late October wind wailed and hurled brittle leaves against the long, slender windows. Addie shivered, and drew her sweater close around her shoulders. The converted nineteenth-century Victorian house was drafty and difficult to heat. Addie had begged the Blue Springs town council for a new heating system, but they'd turned her down.

An unfamiliar noise distracted her. She cocked her head and listened, but heard nothing and decided she had imagined it. She went back to work, then stiffened when the rustle came again. A soft, sibilant sound like a slipper sliding on a polished floor came from somewhere in the dark nether region of the history section.

"Coffee? Is that you?" She called the cat. "Coffee?"

A plaintive purr and a rub against her ankle surprised her. Coffee had been sleeping at her feet beneath the receiving desk.

"There you are. Thought you were in the stacks. The wind must have found a fresh crack in the wall to whistle through." She lifted the dark brown cat to her lap and rubbed her cheek against his thick coat. "Time for us to say goodnight. I have to go home, and you have serious mouse duty for the rest of the night."

Fifteen minutes later, she had changed to jogging sweats, had passed the familiar and impressive old houses on Elm Street, and was running along the tree-lined path that paralleled the two-lane highway out to the farm. The night was cold, and stars twinkled like chipped ice in the black sky. Headlights from an occasional passing car flashed over her bright red sweatshirt.

There was little traffic this late in the evening in Blue Springs.

Her eyes smarted and watered as the brisk air lashed against her face, but Addie found it stimulating and forced herself to breathe evenly. This three-mile run always gave her a sense of freedom. Each long stride increased her feeling of power and control, both of which she'd found little of lately. Her mother's increasing fear for her safety irritated her, and Buck's pressing for a wedding date made her feel as if he'd placed her in a box and locked the lid.

There were times when she felt like she couldn't breathe.

Exercise released her bottled up tension. With no tennis courts, golf courses, or swimming pools, Blue Springs, West Virginia, held little opportunity for exercise, so she made a point of walking to work in the mornings. She'd jogged home every night until six months ago when Buck decided it was his duty to drive her home.

Buck meant well. They had dated since high school and through college. Somewhere along the way, Buck had assumed it was his job to take care of her. Addie hated it, but he was such a kind soul that she hadn't the heart to tell him that she would prefer to get home on her own. Thank God he taught a class once a week at the community college an hour away. The time alone gave her needed breathing room.

The drowning death of her best friend, Laurel Major, a year ago, and the mysterious disappearance of a book group friend, Janelle Knight, three months ago had triggered her mother's growing paranoia and Buck's smothering protectiveness. Her throat tightened at the thought of how much she yearned for her childhood friend, Laurel, and their good times together. Laurel and Janelle were both missed by the members of Addie's compatible book circle, which met every two weeks to dine and review current books.

Slap, slap, slap. The unmistakable beat of running feet startled her. The sound of soles crunching leaves and debris on the dirt path behind her was quite clear in the quiet night. How odd, she thought. No one who lives out this way is a runner.

She turned to see who else ran this time of night, but saw nothing except dark shadows and the trembling of a bush, as if someone had just stepped behind it.

Hogwash, Addie. Either I really heard something, or my ears need to be examined. Maybe the runner stepped into the trees for a minute.

There weren't many joggers in the small town. Buck ran some, and Joe Bolo, their police chief, and a few others. She resumed her pace, but worried that maybe a large dog followed, or a wild animal of some sort. Come, come, Addie. Wild animals vacated Blue Springs years ago. Blue Springs was her birthplace. She'd grown up here, and had returned to live, work, and write here because it was peaceful, and her mom needed her.

Again, the sound came, and she jerked her head around, but there was nothing there. It's a broken tree limb rubbing against a trunk, she imagined, but ran faster. For the first time in her life she wondered if Blue Springs wasn't as safe as she'd always thought.

The white board fence coming up on her left indicated the boundaries of Rivers Farm, and she moved toward it eagerly, ashamed of her irrational fear. The scent of freshly mown grass, cut earlier in the day by farmhand Bobby Heed, filled the brisk night air. A cowbell tinkled in the distance, and Rags barked. She was home.

She skirted a white oval planked wooden sign that hung from the arm of a sturdy post. A light on the ground at the base of the post shone on quaintly painted gold letters that spelled out rivers farm bed and breakfast. She gave the sign a quick thump, and it swung gently back and forth. The squeaking of its wrought iron chains in the quiet night followed her through the gate and up the long drive.

The old farmhouse, a delightful, added-onto, sprawling semicolonial, painted pastel yellow with wide verandas and large white-framed windows, beckoned warmly. Her mother's bedroom window on the second floor was dark, but welcoming lights shone from the kitchen windows.

The last sprint up the drive was always an effort, and she was breathing hard as she passed the barn and headed toward the friendly lights of the kitchen. A happy bark came from the dark, and she knew Rags raced up from the lower meadow to say hello. The border collie reached her as she passed the barn, and she braced herself for his affectionate onslaught. They fell to the ground with a lot of laughter, licking kisses, and tail wagging.

"Okay, okay, you bandit. I love you. Now let me up."

Rags rolled over on his back to have his belly scratched. Addie obliged. She glanced up and saw an expensive sports car parked near the barn. It was too dark to tell the make of the sleek machine, but its glossy finish reflected faint yellow beams of light from the windows.

The new guest must have arrived. Her mother was happiest when her three guest rooms were filled. Eileen Rivers's hosting and cooking abilities were known all over this border region of West Virginia and Virginia.

Good, thought Addie. Having someone here will keep her mind off me.

She gave Rags a final rub and got to her feet. A cup of hot chocolate would taste great. She jogged the last few yards to the house, crossed the planked porch to the kitchen door, and then remembered with dismay that she'd left her house keys at the library.

"Dammit," she muttered. They'd never locked their door until recently, and Addie still hadn't developed the habit of carrying keys. She hated to wake her mother, but she would have to.

She pounded on the door, hoping that her sound-sleeping mother would eventually hear her.

The door opened so quickly that she almost fell in, and a tall barefooted man dressed only in red pajama bottoms stood before her. His well-muscled chest was at her eye level, and her gaze traced a thick patch of triangular black hair up to a strong chin and found an inquiring look on his face.

"Hi. I hope you're Mrs. Rivers's daughter, Addie," he said, and smiled. "If not, then you must be a beautiful damsel in distress lost in the country and seeking shelter at a friendly farm. You found the right place."

Addie realized immediately that this was the newly arrived bed-and-breakfast guest. What was he doing in the kitchen half-dressed?

"Eh, yes, I'm, I mean, no - I'm not a beautiful stranger." She blushed, flustered at this vibrant masculine energy confronting her in her own house and in such an audacious manner. "I'm Addie Rivers. You must be Mom's new guest."

He nodded and stepped aside so she could enter. "You may not be a stranger, but you are beautiful. Come in out of the cold," he said. Seeming very much at home, he swept his arm in front of him and bowed.

She passed by him quickly, catching an inviting scent of aftershave and rich cigar. The heat of the kitchen hit her, warming her cheeks with welcome. Sweet smells of melted butter, cinnamon, and blackberries filled the inviting country kitchen.

A pan of cornbread sat in the open microwave, and the refrigerator door hung ajar. On the big rectangular pine table sat the leftovers of a dinner Eileen Rivers had prepared for friends the evening before: containers of sweet potato soufflé and deep-fried herbed quail. Wavery ribbons of sweet-smelling vapor rose from the remains of a blackberry cobbler, which the usurper had obviously just removed from the microwave.

The coffee maker made a tinkling sound, indicating the coffee was ready. In one long stride, the man gave the refrigerator door a nudge to shut it, took the corn-bread from the microwave, then poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Join me for a snack?"

She stared at him, aghast at the arrogance he displayed in offering her a snack in her own home. His heavy dark eyebrows lifted at her glare, amusement twinkling in his devastating eyes. A tiny gold earring pierced one ear.

"Sorry. I should introduce myself. I'm Will Court. I arrived later than expected, and your mother was about to go to bed. She asked if I'd like something to eat, and I declined. But later, after she'd retired, I suffered severe sugar withdrawal and came back downstairs. I didn't think your mother would mind."

Eileen Rivers wouldn't mind, but Addie did.

He waved a golden-brown quail wing at her. "Sure you don't want something? Your mother is a superb cook, isn't she?"

"Yes, she loves to cook."

Addie tried not to notice the width of his shoulders, and how they curved so symmetrically down into firm tanned arms. Suddenly acutely aware of her sweaty disheveled appearance, she jammed her hands into her pockets and wanted to shrink headfirst down into her sweatshirt. Hey, wait a minute, she lectured herself, he's the one who's half-naked and ordering me around in my own kitchen. Who does he think he is, anyway?

"I understand you're the town librarian?"

"Yes."

"Convenient for me. I'm here to do some research."

"How nice," she said coolly. "Look, Mr. Court, I just jogged three miles from town, and I planned on having a cup of hot chocolate. I'll fix it and be out of your way shortly."

"Certainly," he said. He peered at her over the rim of his mug and gulped down half of the coffee. The steaming hot liquid seemed not to bother him at all.

With great confidence, and not a whit of shyness, he sat down at the table, helped himself to more quail, a heaping ladle of sweet potatoes, a piece of cornbread dripping with butter, and proceeded to finish the meal she'd interrupted. Addie turned away, but felt his interested gaze on her as she moved about the kitchen, and remembered the blueness of his deep-set eyes. Concentrating self-consciously on her hot chocolate preparation, Addie tried to ignore the sounds he made as he cleared his food from the table, rinsed dishes in the sink and placed them in the dishwasher.

He said, "If I've offended you, I apologize. Had no idea I would be discovered half-naked, sneaking cornbread. I have a tendency to plunge full speed ahead, damn the results."

Half-naked and not caring a fig if anyone found you, she thought.

"Not to worry," she said, aware she should be more gracious to a paying guest. "I'm tired and not very sociable tonight."

With cup in hand, she turned to say goodnight and found him right behind her. His steady regard unnerved her and an embarrassing warm flush traveled over her breasts, up her neck, and onto her cheeks. The fragrance of his light aftershave came again, and Addie wanted to inhale it, lap it up, sleep with it.

What? Sleep with his aftershave? Sleep with it?

Good Lord, what is the matter with me? I'm lusting after a complete stranger, that's what is the matter with me, came her shameful answer.

"Goodnight," she said curtly, and turned to cross the kitchen floor. She felt his penetrating gaze on her all the way.

When she reached the door, Will Court said, "Goodnight."

"If I'd known Buck was gone I'd have come for you myself," declared Eileen Rivers the next morning, setting a platter of warm blueberry muffins in front of her daughter. "I certainly hope you're remembering to lock the library up tight."

Addie poked at her scrambled eggs, her mother's words barely registering as she daydreamed out the expansive picture window. Images of the man she'd met in the kitchen last night, and his disturbing effect on her, interfered with her wandering view of the farm's meadows and creek.

"You're really getting paranoid, Mom. Relax, for heaven's sake," she murmured, but suffered a fleeting pang of guilt at the memory of the keys she'd forgotten at the library.

Her reverie drifted across the broad creek and frost-covered meadows and found the distant red and gold peaks of the Allegheny Mountains shimmering in the early morning sun.

"I think the death of two good friends in the last year is enough to make anyone worry."

Addie sighed, and finally gave full attention to her mother.

"Laurel's drowning was an accident, and Janelle was in Marysville when she disappeared. Who knows? She may have gotten bored with teaching first grade and run away to Tahiti or something. None of it puts me in any danger. Besides, I have Coffee to protect me."

"You can make fun if you want, but they're still investigating Laurel's so-called accident. She never went swimming alone, and she had marks around her neck indicating she might have been strangled."

Addie's stomach turned. "Mom, please, must we talk about this? It's a beautiful morning, and I'd rather remember Laurel alive and happy."

Her mother sniffed. "Sorry, dear, but I really think Joe should call in some superior help for the investigation of Laurel's death. And you know perfectly well that Janelle didn't run off to Tahiti. Wishful thinking, Adelaide Rivers. They found signs of a struggle and traces of her blood in the apartment and her car. Don't you think it's more than coincidence that two members of a book group in this rural area have disappeared?"

Addie sighed again. "No, Mom, I don't think Laurel was an accident, and Janelle must have met the wrong person."

"The Real Crime magazine I read last night said those monsters usually form a pattern and don't break it. I don't think two members gone from the same book group within a year is a coincidence. And," she said, pausing for dramatic effect, "this monster evidently likes bookish women with dark-brown hair - like yours. I'm just happy Buck escorts you home at night."

"Yes, Mom, Buck is always there. I can always depend on good o'l Buck." Addie tossed her hair in self-irritation. "And, by the way, just because I'm a writer and a librarian doesn't make me bookish. I've got to get going."

She finished her muffin, gulped the last of her coffee, and got to her feet.

"Where's our new guest?" she asked, with an attempt at casualness.

"It was late when he arrived so I told him he could come down for breakfast whenever he woke up."

"Mom, you can't run an efficient bed-and-breakfast if you let the guests wander down any time they please. I found him making himself at home in the kitchen last night."

Her mother grinned. "I thought I detected signs of a refrigerator raid. Isn't he nice, Addie? And so, well, not handsome in the classic sense, but there's something absolutely riveting about him. I think you young women would say he's ... sexy." She blushed, and self-consciously stuck her hands into the pockets of her frilly white apron. "Besides, a bed-and-breakfast should be more about graciousness than efficiency."

Addie smiled at her mother's reaction to their guest, and kissed her on the cheek.

"You're right, darling. I promise I won't bug you about how you run the place, if you'll promise not to worry about me and mysterious deaths and murderers. After all, we take in more strangers here at the inn than I see at the library in a blue moon. I should be worrying about you."

Eileen Rivers sniffed indignantly, and shoved a lock of fading flaxen hair off her forehead. "We only get nice people here, Adelaide Rivers, and you know that."

"Who is Will Court, anyway?"

"Doctor Will Court. He isn't much of a talker, but whoever called to make his reservation said he's a history professor at Yale."

Addie slipped on her jacket.

"Don't forget your pumpkin. Bobby Heed searched the pumpkin patch for an hour yesterday afternoon to find just the right one for your children to carve."

Addie picked up the small pumpkin from the kitchen counter and settled it comfortably in her arms.

"What in the world is Dr. Court doing in this out-of-the-way place?"

Her mother frowned. "I'm not sure, some kind of research, I think."

"Yeah, research on rudeness."

"Addie!"

She kissed her mother on the cheek. "Bye, Mom. Love you. See you tonight."

Addie walked briskly across the lawn to the long tree-bordered driveway, her desert boots shuffling through crisp fallen leaves. She shifted the pumpkin in her arms and considered driving her car to work, then rejected the idea immediately. The two-mile walk into town was a discipline she'd adhered to religiously since she'd come home to live three years ago.

At the end of the drive she skirted the gleaming white and gold Rivers Farm sign, and turned onto the tree-shaded dirt path that led to town. As she walked, she remembered the sounds she'd heard on the path last night and her near panic. How silly it all seemed in the light of this beautiful fall morning.

The whip of whirling wheels rushing through the leaves behind her warned her to step aside.

"Hey, Miss Rivers." Bradley and Amy Lee Simples, neighbors from the farm next to the Rivers place, swept by on their bikes. Late for school as usual.

"Hi, Brad, Amy. I've got that Harry Potter book you've been waiting for, Brad."

"Okay. Be in after school," he called back, and waved farewell as they drew ahead of her.

There was little traffic on the highway alongside the path, but Bradley and Amy Lee would be entering town soon and she wanted to call after them to be careful. She quelled her protective urge, but it made her wonder, as she often did, if she'd ever have children of her own to worry about.

She picked up her pace, anxious now to get the day started.

Witt Court stood at his guest room window and watched the slender figure cross the lawn, go through the trees, and onto the driveway. Earlier he had put a match to the wood laid in the fireplace and it had caught nicely, but the morning chill still wasn't off the room. Shivering, he pulled a navy-blue sweater hastily over his head, ran fingers through his dark hair, then continued his interested surveillance.

Addie's hair was a coppery brown. He couldn't take his eyes off the lively shining tresses. Of medium length and wavy, her hair glinted gold and red when it caught the sun's beams. It bounced freely around her ears and off her shoulders as she hurried away into the protection of the trees. He waited impatiently until she came into sight again at the end of the drive.

He liked the way she walked with confidence and purpose, even with the burden of the pumpkin. She turned onto the path next to the highway, and he could see her profile. She was too far away for him to see her face clearly, but he wished that he could. Two children rode past her. They waved and spoke, but soon all three were out of sight "Well, are you going to stare out the window at beautiful women all day, Professor Court?" he asked himself. "Not a good beginning for your hideaway time."

Turning his attention to the stunning green, gold, and russet autumn landscape that enveloped the farm, he smiled and breathed a sigh of satisfaction. He'd arrived late last night, but this was the scenery he'd hoped for in this part of the country.

Blue Springs was a tiny historical town on the West Virginia-Virginia border. Because of its out-of-the-way location and the stubborn determination of old families with large land holdings, Blue Springs had miraculously escaped the evils of development and tourism. He suspected the Rivers family was holding to their land by the skin of their teeth, thus the necessity for a bed-and-breakfast.

Planning and scouting out this retreat had taken a year, but he was pleased with the results of his efforts. Not sure how long this research project would take, he decided that for a change he wouldn't be in a hurry.

He'd told Mrs. Rivers he would be here for a week, but his room was spacious, pleasing to the eye, and lushly comfortable, and judging from the food he'd sampled last night, Mrs. Rivers was a superb cook. More importantly, the Blue Springs Public Library owned a collection of Appalachian and Allegheny tales and legends second to none.

And an intriguing librarian, he reminded himself.

No one knew where he was and he wasn't expected back for a month. This looked like the perfect place to hide for a while.

Addie reached the village and ahead of her stretched Elm Street and its row of historic eighteenth-century houses, some with deep wraparound porches, others with sturdy columns and long green shutters. Lulu Murphy waved to her from the front porch of the home she'd turned into an antiques shop.

Lulu stopped sweeping and called, "Hey, Addie. Lookin' forward to seein' you and Buck Friday night. I'm makin' your favorite roast pork with sausage stuffing."

"Great. Sounds like fun. See you." Roast pork was Buck's favorite, not hers. People had become so accustomed to the two of them together that they tended to link their likes and dislikes. Addie admired Lulu. Lulu meant well, and she had it all: an adoring husband, two beautiful children, and a business of her own.

She hurried, turning the corner onto the square. Library hours were nine to five weekdays, and nine to nine on Saturdays. It was almost nine o'clock.

A car drew to the curb next to her and stopped.

"Slow down, beautiful. That library can get along without you for five minutes."

"Oh, hi, Joe. It won't open until I get there. Any increase in the Blue Springs crime wave?"

It was an old joke between Addie and the chief of police. Joe Bolo had gone to high school with her, graduating tenth in their class of twenty. Buck had been class valedictorian, Addie the salutatorian, and they had gone on to Penn State. Joe had attended one year of community college, taken a course in criminology and town administration, then headed happily home to take charge of the Blue Springs police force of three.

He turned off the ignition of the police cruiser, and got out to relieve her of the pumpkin and carry it for her as they headed toward the library.

"Well, let's see," he said, considering her question. “Burt Manning is missing two shiny new hoes at the hardware store, Mavis thinks kids are stealing the best pumpkins from her display in front of the grocery store, and old Mrs. Tabor swears a peeping torn is staring through her bedroom window every night. Heaven knows what for."

Addie laughed. "Gee, Joe, things are really, going downhill in this burg. Do you think you can handle the intrigue and danger?"

"I don't know. May have to import more manpower." He winked at her, a wistful look in his eyes. "Don't suppose you'd have lunch with me today. It'll be some warmed up by noon, and we could take a sandwich to the park, or maybe we could go to the diner. You love Dixie's meatloaf special. I'm sure Buck wouldn't care."

Addie almost said yes, but she didn't want to give him any false encouragement. Joe hadn't lost the serious crush he'd had on her since high school. She loved him dearly as a buddy, but that was as far as it would ever go.

And why did everyone want to tell her what she liked to eat? It was downright embarrassing.

"I don't really care whether Buck approves. I'm not married to him, you know," she said. "But I can't have lunch with you today, Joe. The nursery school is coming in for story hour."

"How about Friday, Ad?"

Why not? She thought. She was irritated with people taking her and Buck for granted. Maybe she would shake things up a bit. And she hadn't been to the diner for a while.

"Sure, Joe. I'd love to."

A huge grin stretched his earnest face, and his round rosy cheeks bunched in delight. His sturdy shoulders, on a level with hers, straightened and she could have sworn he walked taller. Addie was glad she'd said yes. She wished it were that easy to make everyone happy.

"Looks like this fat pumpkin came direct from the patch at Rivers Farm. Where do you want it, beautiful?"

She indicated the bales of hay and the scarecrow arranged on the front lawn of the library. "Put it next to the scarecrow. We're going to carve it tomorrow."

They said good-bye, and Addie climbed the broad stone steps to the entrance of the tall imposing old house, which had been converted to a library forty years ago. A wealthy book lover had left her home to the town, along with a small trust fund to run the library for years to come.

As she opened the double doors, Addie vowed to remember to lock them this evening. Admiring, as always, the finely etched glass panels in the heavy walnut doors, she stepped into the vestibule. The quiet soothed her immediately. Coffee usually greeted her first thing, but he didn't show this morning.

With deep pleasure she inhaled the aroma of mellowed oak floors polished to a high shine, musty old books, new fresh-leafed books, and of ink and paper. The silence and the scents always gave her an odd assurance, and a feeling of satisfaction about what she was doing.

Addie often worried whether she'd made the right decision three years ago. A year after the death of her father, she completed her master's in creative writing and came home to be with her mother. She'd reasoned that she could write novels as well, or better, in Blue Springs than she could anywhere, her mother needed her, and the town was crying for a competent full-time librarian. It had all seemed to fit together at the time, had seemed so right.

However, no matter how much she worried or wondered about her decision to return to the tiny town, being in the library always set her straight.

When she worked with books, reading, cataloging, researching, organizing events for children, she forgot about everything else. She forgot her resentment of the assumption that she and high school sweetheart, Buck Harvey, were a done deal, that they were as good as married, and that he owned her. She forgot that her novel wasn't progressing well, and that she couldn't conjure up the missing ingredient. She forgot that she still held misty, girlish dreams and notions of a deep and passionate romance - dreams and notions that wouldn't let her go.

Whistling Willie Nelson's "Crazy," she shook her head impatiently, flipped the switch that lit the dusty crystal chandeliers high overhead, and headed for the receiving desk.

As she passed the door to the cellar, she heard a long, plaintive meow. Coffee sounded unhappy. She stopped and stared at the cellar door. Coffee couldn't be in there. When she left last night Coffee had been roaming free. The cat couldn't have let himself into the cellar.

He meowed again, and she opened the door. Coffee leaped out, landing two feet past her, then sat and looked at her disdainfully, as if it was her fault he'd been closed up.

"Sorry, Coffee cat. I sure don't know how you got in there."

Dank smells from the cellar swam up the stairs and under her nose, and she slammed the door hastily. In August, a particularly rank odor, sickening to the stomach, had sifted up from the dark cellar. Donny Jim, the handyman, had searched the place, and found nothing, but whiffs of the rotten odor still remained. She hated the cellar.

"Okay, let's go, cat. Time for work."

She continued to her desk, and Coffee followed, purring at her heels. Evidently, he'd forgiven her.

An unfamiliar legal-size pad of blue paper lay in the center of her desk. A black ballpoint pen lay on top of the pad.

Interesting, she thought, strange. They don't belong to me. They weren't there when I left last night.

The door was unlocked, remember, Addie? But who on earth would just walk into the library and leave paper and pen? Blue Springs held a few eccentric residents, but none of them had ever done anything like this before. Donny Jim Slater, the handyman who came twice a week to clean and repair, wasn't due until later today, and Donny Jim was a deaf mute, who could barely read. He surely wouldn't be carrying around a pad of paper.

A quick look around revealed no damage had been done, so Addie relaxed. This was a small town and the library belonged to the people. One of her regulars must have returned a book after hours, then sat down to make themselves at home. That would also explain Coffee being accidentally locked up in the cellar.

Sure, she thought, nothing to worry about. She put on a pot of coffee and opened the inside shutters, grateful for the sunlight that brightened gloomy corners, then turned on the CD player. Bach's Keyboard Concerto drifted down the aisles, and wafted randomly through hidden nooks and pinched crannies of the rambling old house.

While Addie sorted books she tried to recapture the reassuring feelings she'd experienced when she first entered, but they were gone. Worry scratched at her like Coffee's paws.

2

Janie was so scared she could hardly breathe. She ran as fast as she could, but the wailing, groaning ghost from the graveyard who collected little girls' pigtails, hovered close behind her." Addie told the ghost story with drama; using wavery tones and shuddering sighs. "She tripped over a rock and fell, A bony hand reached out and grabbed her hair."

"Oh, no," screamed a girl, and the boys laughed.

The younger children had nightmares if she told them horror stories, so she reserved the scariest tales for the older children. The fifth grade class from Blue Springs Elementary sat on the floor in front of her, wide-eyed and unusually well behaved today.

From the doorway of the children's reading room came a hideous screech. The children screamed and turned to see the principal of their school with his shoulders hunched in an awkward stance, his arms and hands all crablike, and his face scrunched up like a monster.

They all laughed and pointed their fingers. "Mr. Harvey. We're not afraid of you," said one little girl.

"Heck, no, Mr. Harvey," said Brad Simples. "We know you too good."

"Well, shucks. I thought maybe I'd help Miss Rivers scare you to death. Guess I'll have to try harder next time."

"Yeah," said Brad. "Takes more than a fake scream and an ugly face to scare us."

Buck Harvey grinned, straightened his blue striped tie, and patted his boxy, immaculate camel sports coat into place. He tried to keep up-to-date with the latest in male fashion trends, and liked to look sharp.

Addie gave him a small wave. "Hello, Mr. Harvey. How nice of you to visit."

"We needed cleaning supplies and I had to make a trip to the hardware store, so I thought I'd drop by and see how my favorite class is doing."

Addie tried to subdue the irritation that simmered in her, but failed.

Buck had developed the habit of dropping into the library at odd hours lately, and if one of his classes was visiting he always found a reason to be there. Cleaning supplies from the hardware store was just one of many excuses he'd used lately. Addie resented the interruptions, but the children seemed to love them. They loved Mr. Harvey, and they knew he loved them.

He was always cheerful and pleasant, so Addie found it difficult to protest or complain. Addie knew Buck genuinely loved her, and she'd accepted the fact that someday they would marry and spend the rest of their lives in Blue Springs, but she ached to loosen the collar she felt he'd already fastened around her neck.

"Your visits always make us happy, Mr. Harvey," she said, straining to smile. "But you've interrupted a good story. Do you mind if we get back to it? Miss Lewis will be here to walk this class back to school in five minutes, and the nursery children will be here at noon."

"Uh, oh. Sorry, kids, but I think Miss Rivers wants to finish your ghost tale." He smiled at them, then winked at her, and gave her a meaningful look. "Everything okay here, Miss Rivers?"

"Fine and dandy, Mr. Harvey, as it always is," she replied. She glared at him, then smiled sweetly. "Safe as little bugs in a rug, or peas in a pod, or cats in a barn, or mice in an attic, or whatever. We are super okay."

"Right. Good. Great." The grin on his kind face grew bigger. He knew he'd irritated her, and it amused him. Nothing ever bothered Buck. Addie could yell and scream and shake her fists at him, and he would just smile. "See you later, kids."

Buck waved and turned to leave, disappearing into the greater library area. Addie heard him speak to someone. She thought he offered assistance to whoever had come in, and she wished that he wouldn't assume responsibility where he had none. Most of the library regulars were familiar with the layout and Addie's rules, and if she was occupied with children, or otherwise not available, they helped themselves.

"Hey, Miss Rivers, you goin' to finish the story?"

"Absolutely." She heard Buck in conversation with someone, but turned her attention back to the children.

"Addie is having story hour in the back room there "

"Yes, I know," said Will.

He'd been amused at the sign on the desk. addie's READING A STORY. HELP YOURSELF.

"You're a stranger. May I help you? I'm Buck Harvey, principal of the elementary school."

"I'm Will Court," he said, as they shook hands. "I'm traveling through the region gathering folk tales and legends. A friend told me Blue Springs supposedly has one of the best collections in the country. If it's as good as I've been told, I'm surprised you don't have a library full of scholars."

"It is a superb compilation, but we're a small town, and the library's skills are limited. The computer system is so antiquated we're not even on the Internet. So you can see why little is known about the collection." Buck Harvey smiled genially. "I think we'd just as soon keep things the way they are anyway. We'd rather welcome the few drop-ins like you, than try to handle a crowd."

"Who gathered the stories?"

"My fiancée, Addie Rivers, the librarian. Appalachia is the setting for a novel she's writing. In her research, she kept running into old tales and legends she'd never heard before. She kept them and added them to the files that were already here."

So, Addie with the smoky eyes and coppery hair was engaged to be married. Will's sharp disappointment surprised him. He should have known she'd be taken. He'd come to this small town to find new material for his books and lecture series, but found Blue Springs' real hidden treasure was its librarian. Obviously intelligent, with long legs, a sensual mouth, and an expressive face, Addie Rivers would be difficult to ignore.

Will took a second appraisal of the congenial man to whom he was talking. Buck Henry stood as tall as he, but they were of different build. If Will had to describe him briefly, he would say Buck looked like an impeccably dressed wooden ruler, "a thin rectangle." Buck's slender handsome face sat on a long neck and met slim squared shoulders, and so it went all the way down to his trim cordovan wing tipped shoes. He was painfully neat, and ran a hand across the top of his severe "army-issue"-type brush-cut hair from time to time.

"How interesting," said Will. "It's nice to know Miss Rivers is available if I have questions. Could you direct me to the section I should be in?"

"Sure. Go past fiction and turn right. Most of it is on the back wall in the history area." He pointed to the rear of the library. "Addie discovered some handwritten stories, which were years old, and those are under lock and key. You'll have to ask her about those."

"Thanks for your help." Will shook hands with the man again, and turned away.

But Buck Harvey didn't move. "How long you going to be here?" he asked.

Will thought it was none of the man's business, but he stopped and turned around to say, "I'm not quite sure. Could take me two days, could take me a month."

"I see. I don't think there is enough material for a month's work."

"Well, I won't know until I get into it, and I'll probably do some traveling and story gathering on the back trails myself."

"You'd better let one of us know if you plan to do that. Some of the elder mountaineers are wary of strangers, and aren't too friendly."

Will's first opinion of this seemingly congenial man began to change. At first a friendly helpful person, Buck Harvey now seemed nosy, controlling, and perhaps even hostile.

"I'll keep that in mind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Of course," said Buck. A brief, big smile blazed across his face, then disappeared quickly. His duty to be friendly taken care of, Buck lifted a hand in farewell and headed for the door. "Good luck."

"Right," said Will, and walked toward the aisle Buck had indicated. Eager to get to work, he started down the aisle, but the sound of Buck's fading footsteps stopped, and Will looked over his shoulder to see what had halted the man.

Buck raised his hand in farewell again. "Sorry, just wanted to be sure you were headed in the right direction."

Will nodded and walked on.

When he reached the area he'd been looking for, he heard the faint sound of closing doors behind him and knew with an odd relief that Buck Harvey had finally left the library.

He swiftly surveyed the three shelves holding the work he was interested in, realizing with excitement that he'd found a treasure trove. In front of him was a veritable feast of boxes, books, pamphlets, and note pads containing tales he could use in his lecture series, and material that he needed to complete his new book.

Sorting through the books, Will chose three to start with, and gave the remainder of the material a wistful look. He couldn't wait to delve into it all. He took the books to a nearby table, extracted pads and pen from his backpack, and sat down to work. A coffee-colored cat arrived to inspect his moccasins, sniff up and down his legs, and finally, purring intimately at Will's friendly strokes, to curl under the table next to his feet as if they belonged together.

Set to begin work, he riffled through one of the books, but had an odd sensation that he wasn't alone, that someone watched him. He looked up to find a big, brawny, middle-aged man dressed in denim overalls and red flannel shirt observing him. He clutched a broom and dustpan. Will got the impression that the man was inspecting him, considering whether Will passed muster.

"Hi," said Will. "You must be the janitor. I'm Will Court."

The man said nothing, just continued to study him. Then he disappeared as quietly as he'd appeared. Will shrugged, and wondered how a huge, beefy guy wearing farm brogans could walk so silently. He shrugged again and focused on his books.

Alone with his beloved work in the quiet library, Will soon was deep into the first of the volumes he'd picked, Forgotten Legends of the Appalachians. Laughter, and the high pitched voices of children hurrying through the area near the receiving desk and out the doors barely registered. He worked steadily, completely enamored with stories he'd never heard before.

Thirst finally interfered with his concentration. It was time for a break, and he raised his head to look for a water fountain. He left his table to wander up and down several aisles, but found nothing, and finally entered the cleared space of the main area.

Addie Rivers worked at the desk, her head bowed over books and papers. His soft-soled moccasins concealed his approach. She didn't know that he watched her, and though it wasn't fair, he took advantage of the opportunity and drank his fill of the picture she made.

Autumn sun shone through the large window behind her, catching the coppery highlights in her hair that he'd noticed and appreciated earlier that morning. Her hair spilled softly over her cheek, hiding her smoky eyes, which disappointed him. Her eyes were what he remembered most from their encounter in the kitchen last night, her eyes and the way her graceful hands had moved so efficiently as she prepared the hot chocolate.

She raked her hand through her hair in irritation, and shook her head. "Damn," she muttered.

Ah, ha, thought Will. The beautiful bookish lady has a bit of temper. The flickering flames that teased and licked at his groin flared higher. Not good, Will, not good. You're here to work, not flirt with the librarian. But this is a vacation, too, a retreat, he reasoned with himself. Still not sufficient reason to be playing around with an engaged woman, Will.

She tapped her pencil on the desk and the tat-a-tat-tat echoed loudly in the vast hushed room. It was chilly in the old house. She wore a cream cashmere turtleneck sweater. His heart hammered as he watched her stroke her arm up and down, up and down, warming herself, caressing the soft cashmere sensually, soothing her arm, and perhaps soothing herself.

The phone on her desk rang, abruptly breaking the spell he'd cast around the two of them. He didn't move as she picked up the receiver and lifted her gaze to notice him.

She started and her eyes widened. "Hello, uh - Blue Springs Library."

He smiled, and her eyes grew wider.

"Oh, hi, Mavis." She listened to her caller while Will continued feasting his eyes on her face, the flawless cheeks, tinged with a faint pink now, the feathery eyebrows lifted in surprise at the sight of him, the sweep of her dark eyelashes as she closed her eyes for a second in response to a comment on the other end of the line.

"No, Mavis, I'm positive Bradley didn't take one of your pumpkins," went the conversation. "We're carving ours on Friday. Certainly. I would be delighted if you'd like to share some of your pumpkins with the children. Why don't you come and help us carve? Okay. See you then." She replaced the receiver.

Shocked at Will Court's sudden appearance, Addie realized that she had been staring at him for an embarrassing length of time.

Still as a cat about to pounce, he didn't move, didn't alter his casual stance. Propped against the front section of Fiction A - M; his arms crossed, one foot cocked over the other, he stared right back at her. The acute blue of his eyes sped across the space between them, setting every nerve ending she possessed tingling with anxiety.

She finally forced words out of her dry mouth. "Hello, Dr. Court. You surprised me."

"Sorry, Addie." With a twist of his shoulder he pushed away from the bookshelf and came toward her. She held her breath, trying not to notice the way his soft faded jeans clung to wiry lean hips and long legs. He walked lazily, as if he had not a care in the world. Coffee followed close behind, tale waving arrogantly in the air as if this, at last, was another male he could relate to. "I thought you'd be expecting me."

What arrogance, she thought.

"Oh, that's right. You said you were in Blue Springs to do some research. Anything I can help you with?"

"Yes, I think so. Your friend, Buck Harvey, said you were the curator of the Appalachian tales and legends collection. I understand you're responsible for its fine reputation."

He placed his hands on her desk, and leaning toward her, supported himself on stiffened arms while he spoke. The sleeves of his sloppy navy blue cable knit sweater crumpled down over strong wrists and hands. Crisp dark hairs were scattered over the backs of his hands. A one day growth of dark beard stubbled his jaw, and Addie found it incredibly sexy. The gold earring glinted momentarily when he moved his head.

What did he say? Oh, yes, her compilation of mountain stories. A fierce sense of ownership flared within her, which surprised her, and she found herself on the defensive. Other people had come to use the collection and she hadn't reacted so vehemently. It was as if he had come to take a child away from her. What was there about Will Court that generated such strong feelings in her?

"Why do you want to see that group of work in particular?" she asked, unable to keep the frost from her voice.

He lifted his eyebrows at the tone of her voice. He removed his hands from her desk, and stood erect.

"Perhaps I should explain. I teach American Literature at Yale, and my field of expertise is Appalachian folklore. I've written several books on the subject"

"How did you find Blue Springs, Dr. Court? Our collection is considered one of the best, but it is not well known."

An indolent smile made its way leisurely across his angular face, and he stuck his hands into the rear pockets of his jeans. "I like to wander, Addie, and I especially like to wander when I'm searching for material. I don't make arrangements. I discover more when I simply arrive somewhere. I spent a few weeks in Marysville last summer, and heard about the Blue Springs collection. So when it was time for my sabbatical, I came back this way."

To Addie's dismay, she suddenly recalled that a Dr. William J. Court had written several impressive textbooks on Appalachian literature, its forms, origins, and history. She'd read one of his books three years ago when she'd first started her own selections. How could she have forgotten?

This man had thrown her off-balance from the instant he'd opened the kitchen door last night. She'd been unable to think of anything except his eyes, the shock of black hair that fell across his brow, and her desire to sleep with the masculine aroma of him, to curl herself around it and hold it safe and soft around her all night long.

She cleared her throat self-consciously. "I apologize, Dr. Court. I'm rather protective of the material, only because most people don't appreciate its importance. I now remember reading one of your books several years ago. I'll try to help in any way I can."

"Actually, I'm thirsty. I was looking for water."

"Sure" said Addie. She got up from behind the desk. "Go back to your work while I fetch a bottle of water from the kitchenette."

Addie got the water and made her way back to the corner where Dr. Will Court worked, with Coffee perfectly at home at his feet. The long maple table was piled with papers and books, and he seemed already engrossed in his work. A yellow pencil was clenched between his teeth while he wrote rapidly on a blue legal-size pad of paper with a ballpoint pen. The pad was a replica of the one she'd found on her desk this morning.

Could Dr. Court have been in the library last night? Impossible. He'd arrived at Rivers Farm Bed and Breakfast while she was still at the library.

She cleared her throat. He glanced up at her, and she could tell that for an instant he didn't recognize her, and probably didn't even know he sat in the Blue Springs Library. Addie guessed that he was in the back hollows of the mountains somewhere, maybe chasing revenuers, or telling tall tales around a fire, killing a "bar," or kissing an innocent mountain lass.

"Your water," she said, and placed a paper napkin and the bottle on the table next to him.

"Thank you," he said. His eyes lightened as he focused on her and took a long swig of water. "Addie, this Bloody Mud Hollow story has a reference to a Simon Meredith, but I can't find any further mention of him. Do you have anything else on the Meredith clan?"

"Yes, I do, but it's not included here because the Meredith history is in the genealogy section. We also have microfilm you can study, but I always start with books. Come, I'll show you."

He unfolded his long lean body from behind the table and, in an ambling, lazy gait, followed her through several rows of stacks. Addie stopped in the center of a dim narrow aisle and ran her hand over volumes containing West Virginia's families' lineage.

"Here we are. The Merediths are down here, I think."

She knelt to examine books and files on the bottom shelf. He knelt behind her, and stretched an arm across her shoulder to hold onto the shelf for balance and support. His shoulder touched hers, and if he extended his other arm he would have her enclosed, she thought nervously. Their fingers brushed as he too ran a hand over the contents. A peculiar lightness at her center almost drove her butt to the floor, and she heard her swift involuntary intake of breath.

"Something wrong, Addie?"

"No," she said slowly, the word kind of falling out of her mouth like soft air.

Luscious warmth spread low in her stomach and spiraled down where it shouldn't. The lightness and warmth swelled until her inner thighs trembled. She grabbed the edge of the shelf and held on for dear life.

"Are you sure you're okay? You've turned two shades of white and back again."

He was so close behind her that his breath stirred her hair.

"Really, I'm just fine," she protested as she turned to look at him, and found his face inches from hers. He smiled that lazy, disturbing, but inviting smile again. Her eyelids fluttered and she felt light-headed.

His smile faded. With gentle fingers he explored the contours of her face. "You're beautiful, Addie Rivers."

Speechless and unable to move, Addie studied his rugged face.

He rubbed his thumb lightly across her bottom lip, and whispered, "Holy, fair, and wise is she; The heaven such grace did lend her."

The Two Gentlemen of Verona, recalled Addie hazily. Act Four, Scene Two.

Weak with desire, curiosity, and a heady sense of adventure, Addie didn't move as he closed the short distance between. His lips were rough and firm, and the coarseness of his stubbled chin sanded her chin. She collapsed to sit on the floor and Will went with her, never taking his lips from hers.

"Dr. Court," she said shakily, and meant to utter a ladylike protest, but found herself unable to say anything further.

"Maybe you better call me Will, Addie," he whispered against her cheek.

He drew back to give her a penetrating look, and she knew immediate loss at the lack of his warmth against her cheek. She ached to kiss him, deep, and long, and hard.

This is totally absurd, Adelaide Rivers. You're sitting on the floor of the library engaged in dangerous flirtation with a man you just met - but, dear God, it feels so very right.

Heart beating at breakneck speed, Addie leaned forward and kissed him. Will caught her to him, pulling her into his lap as the kiss deepened. His tongue prodded her lips and she drew it into her mouth, loving its demanding heat.

"Addie. Addie, where are you?" Was someone calling her?

The telephone rang on her desk up front, and someone called "Addie" again. Addie tried to fight her way to the surface of the drugged state she found herself immersed in, but was defeated by her strong craving for this man and his melting touch. She swam along through the hot, hazy, exciting currents Will created, lost in a world she'd only dreamed about.

"Addie. Where the hell are you?" It was Joe calling, and Joe never cussed. The phone rang over and over, the intrusive noise reverberating through every nook and cranny of the large house. She hadn't switched on the answering machine. She didn't care.

Will withdrew from her mouth, kissed her on the temple, and said softly, "I think someone needs you." "Yes, I, ah, better see what Joe wants." Will got to his feet and helped her up. Addie's head whirled and she leaned shakily against the shelves. She poked at her hair, blushing furiously all the while, and searched in vain through the pockets of her slacks for a tissue.

Will, smiling, extracted a white handkerchief from a jeans pocket and tenderly erased from her face any traces of their kiss. "Okay?" "I don't know" she said. Embarrassed, she tried to smile, but knew the result was lopsided.

"Addie?" Joe's voice was closer and she realized he was searching for her. The phone had stopped ringing.

"It's all right, you know. As far as I'm concerned, you haven't done anything wrong, so don't be embarrassed." Will's smile turned into a grin, a big delighted grin that creased his face from ear to ear. "In fact, I just had the best time I've ever had in a library, and I love libraries."

"I hear you, Joe. I'm coming," she called.

Will gave her a small wave and made his way quietly back to the Appalachia section. Addie took a deep breath, walked quickly to the front, and emerged from the aisle.

Joe paced the area near her desk worriedly.

"Joe, what on earth is so important? I was deep into some files in the back, I had to put them away before I did anything else."

He placed his hands on her shoulders, and she saw fear on his earnest face. "Thank God, Addie. I got worried when you didn't answer."

"Something the matter, Joe?"

He brought her to him briefly, gave her a quick self-conscious hug, and released her. "You'd better sit down. I have some bad news."

"Just spill it, Joe."

"Another member of your book group was found murdered last night. Jennifer Hatfield."

"No way." She sat on the desk, and grabbed its angular edge for added assurance.

"Sorry, Addie, but it's true. She left Marysville Merchant Bank about five-thirty yesterday. The teller who works next to her said Jennifer hinted that she was meeting someone for dinner and a romantic evening, but she wouldn't name her date."

"Oh, no, Joe. It can't be." The phone started ringing again, but Addie could only stare at him in horror.

"Better answer that, Ad. I'll bet it's your mom. The news has been all over television."

Shakily, Addie picked up the receiver.

"Addie, Addie, have you heard about Jennifer Hatfield? Why didn't you answer the phone when I called before? Are you okay?" Eileen Rivers's worry came through loud and dear. "Addie? Answer me."

"I hear you, Mom." In trying to keep her voice calm for her mother's sake, Addie found herself regaining composure. "Joe is here with me, and I'm great."

"Addie, this proves that what I've been saying all along is true. Someone is after the women in your reading circle."

"I'll have to admit you might be right this time, Mom, but I'm fine. Really, I am."

"You be sure Buck brings you home tonight."

"Okay." She said good-bye and punched the disconnect button.

Joe handed her a glass of water and she sat in her desk chair.

"Where did they find her?" she asked Joe.

"Out by the lake."

"Near where they found Laurel?" she asked with dread.

"Yes. They called me right after I saw you this mornin'. I've been out there. It wasn't pretty, Addie. You know I've done all I can to find the truth about Laurel's drowning. Up until now I was pretty sure that Laurel had too much to drink that night, as she did sometimes, and that it was an accident. Janelle's disappearance, of course, isn't in my jurisdiction."

"What happens now?"

"Now, there are no more coincidences. I used to think your mother was being paranoid, but she's been right all along. We're looking for a serial killer." He grimaced, and took her hand in his. "Addie, you're going to have to be mighty careful. Me or Buck will take you home at night, and bring you to work in the morning. I'll devise some sort of alarm system for you here in the library. Donny Jim thinks the sun sets and shines because of you, and he's here twice a week, so that's good. Promise you will alert me to strangers who seem overly friendly."

Crawling fear mixed with guilt when she thought about Will Court working in the nether regions of the library at this very minute. That's silly, Addie. A distinguished professor from Yale couldn't be a murderer, and if he were, why would he want to kill the women in her book group? Besides, he's not a stranger, he's our guest.

"Sure, sure, Joe. Has anyone talked to the rest of the group?"

"Yes. Sheriff Glazier told me that two of the women decided to take a few weeks of vacation and are leaving the country. Another has moved in with her parents, and Millie Bailey thinks she'll move to Florida. She has a teaching job waiting for her there. They are all being carefully watched."

"This is crazy. Who would want to kill harmless women who get together twice a month to talk about books?"

"Someone with a warped mind, that's who. And don't go thinkin' that you're any safer than the others were, 'cause you're not."

"I'll tell you one thing, Joe Bolo, I refuse to live in fear. I'll be careful, but I will not sneak around looking into every corner and suspecting everyone I meet."

He took her other hand now, and held them both in his. He squeezed them tightly, and leaned down close to her face, nose to nose, to say, "You listen to me, Addie Rivers. You better be scared. You better be damned scared."

3

AN escalating wind whipped and tore at the farmhouse, its keening chilling to ear, bone, and soul.

Addie gave the fire a jab with the poker to perk it up. The flames leaped high, gold and blue sparks reaching for the chimney, and she wished her spirits matched the soaring flames. She worked to hide her melancholy from Joe, and more importantly, to hide the growing panic she seemed helpless to control.

Always strong, sensible and intrepid, although prone to romantic flights of fancy, Addie hated being afraid of anything. The events of the last few days, however, had compelled her to acknowledge that there were unseen malevolent forces over which she had no power.

Finally, she turned to force a smile at Joe, hugged her sweater closer about her shoulders, and sat down on the sofa next to him.

"This is kinda romantic, Ad," said Joe. "Is this what you and Buck do on rainy nights? Sorry. That's none of my business, but I bet you wish Buck was here instead of me."

"Not necessarily. Buck can't miss a PTA meeting, and it's always nice being with you. We had some good times in high school, didn't we?"

"Yeah, we did, and I wish that we were on a date right now, and we were roastin' marshmallows for the fun of it, and not because you need someone to protect you."

"Well, I'm roasting marshmallows for fun, and I'm not thinking of you as some sort of bodyguard. You're a friend and you should visit more often."

"How was the funeral this afternoon?" asked Joe.

"Pretty bad. Millie and I sat with Jennifer's parents. We were the only members of the book group there. Maria and Sally are in London for a month. Fannie is looking for a job in San Francisco."

In the church, Buck's tall form sitting next to her should have made her feel safe, thought Addie. But it hadn't. The harsh reality of the murders of her friends had come into sharp, excruciating focus at the funeral. Buck's protective arm around her shoulders hadn't taken away the stark sadness on Mrs. Hatfield's face, or Millie's shaking hands and terror-stricken eyes. Sheriff's deputies stationed throughout, trying to be unobtrusive, but failing, had only intensified her apprehension. Safeness, sureness, the promise of a normal tomorrow had become a foreign concept, something she would never feel again.

She ached to go back two days, six months, a year, laugh with Laurel again, trade barbs with Janelle, argue with Jennifer the merits of Joyce Carol Oates.

Addie withdrew her blackened marshmallow from the fire, grabbed a graham cracker layered with Hershey Bar,  smushed the  sticky concoction  together, and handed it with a flourish to Joe. He took a big bite, chewed with approval, and groaned with delight.

"Wow, this is dee-licious. Great idea we had. Just the thing to keep our minds off the storm, and off the loony who's offing beautiful bookish women."

As if in answer to mention of the storm, the shrill wind rattled the windows, threatening entrance, and the lights flickered off and on. Addie shivered and rubbed her hands together. The sturdy country house, this cozy room, the cheerful fireplace, and putting together the chocolate-marshmallow confection she'd made since she was a Girl Scout should be shoring her up, giving her a semblance of security. But she couldn't rid herself of a spiraling, panicking perception that her life was out of control.

"Deputy Lee Bert called right before I came over here," said Joe, "to tell me the police in Marysville have called in the FBI. He says it's hailing over there. Sure hope your mom gets home from prayer meeting okay."

"Mom hates to miss Wednesday Prayer Meeting, but she wouldn't leave until you called to say you were coming. I'm sure she'll stay at church until the storm's over. It'll give her an excuse to gossip with her friends, and they're finishing plans for the Fall Hoedown next week."

"I told you I'd make sure you were never alone until we catch this creep." He munched his s'mores, licking the marshmallow off his fingers. "I'm relieved your mom doesn't have bed-and-breakfast guests right now. I don't like the idea of strangers being around you in any kind of situation."

"But we do have a guest. I thought you knew. His name is Dr. William Court, and he's doing research at the library. I don't know where he is this evening."

Joe wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, stared at her in disbelief, and frowned. "You've got some guy stayin' here that you don't even know? Christ Almighty, Adelaide Rivers, you should have told me. Where is he from, and how do you know he's who he says he is? I mean, don't you think it's damned suspicious that this guy shows up here the same time as the third murder?"

"Calm down, Joe. He's a professor from Yale, and he's perfectly legitimate. I read a book of his a few years ago."

"Just because he writes books doesn't mean he isn't a murderer."

"Trust me, he's okay," Addie said. She would never admit to him her own underlying anxieties about the fascinating and mysterious Will Court.

"I want to meet him, talk to him, do some checking up on him."

Addie sighed. "Okay, if you must. If he doesn't arrive before you leave tonight, talk to him tomorrow. I hardly know the man, but I'll guarantee he won't be cooperative. He seems very much the individual, has an air of detachment, sort of a 'touch me if you can, but I'll decide who's boss here' attitude."

She realized she was talking too much, and Joe was looking at her in alarm.

"Christ Almighty, Addie, you talk like you know the man better than you say. How long has he been here?"

"Three nights."

"Hmmmm, well, if I was you, I'd be mighty careful about making quick friends with him."

“I'll be careful."

But Addie remembered the searing kiss in the library, and her rhythmic heartbeats stopped and melded together in one long, wrenching stroke that threatened to splinter her ribs. Cracker crumbs caught in her throat, and she choked, coughing, until her eyes teared.

Joe offered her water and smacked her on her back a couple of times, looking at her with concern. "Okay?"

She nodded, "Thanks, Joe. I wish you wouldn't worry about me so much."

"Have to, and I wish you would take all of this more seriously."

"I take it very seriously, but I hate all the suffocating attention. Everyone in town watches every move I make."

"I damned well hope they do. In fact, Addie Rivers, that's an awesome idea. I'm going to deputize everyone in Blue Springs. They are never to take their eyes off you."

Addie frowned. "You're teasing, right, Joe?"

"Maybe," he said. He poured another cup of coffee from the silver pot on the low mahogany butler's table before them, and helped himself to another of the s'mores Addie had prepared. "I can't deputize all of them, but I can sure tell everyone to keep their eyes open."

Somewhere out near the barn, Rags barked. Sharp pellets of rain assaulted the windows, and the angry wind shrieked like a thousand banshees. The lights dimmed, then wavered on and off again. Addie pulled her sweater closer around her shoulders.

"This big house chills down quickly. I hope the power doesn't go off for good."

"I don't think it will, but we need to be ready if it does. Maybe you should get out your kerosene lamps and candles."

Addie went to the pantry next to the kitchen, gathered a kerosene lamp and candles, and returned to the front parlor.

She paused before entering, enjoying the look of comfort her mother had created. The room, a pleasing eclectic mix of contemporary and antique furniture, was quietly elegant in whites and beiges, with accent spots of lemon and emerald. Joe, his back to her, sat on a pale beige chesterfield sofa, its plump, curved back so high that she saw only the top of his head.

The lights went off and the house was dark. With no city lights close by, the blackness outside the windows seemed impenetrable.

"Addie?" yelled Joe. The firelight outlined him standing quickly.

"Don't panic, Joe. I'm here in the doorway."

"Stay there. You'll fall over one of your mom's little stools."

"I'm fine. I grew up in this house, remember? The light from the fire is enough to get me across the room safely."

The lights flickered on, then off again. She held her breath, then laughed as they went on. "See, nothing to worry about."

Rags's barking again. Addie wished she could bring him inside, but her mother wouldn't allow the dog in the house.

She set the kerosene lamp and matches on a table near the front hall, and placed candles around the room. Joe watched her, worry in his earnest brown eyes. Sometimes she wished she'd ended up with Joe, instead of Buck.

Rags bark sounded once more, piercing high and urgent through the whine of the wind.

"Does Rags usually bark like that?"

"He is making a bit of a racket, but he'll settle down soon," she said, as she sat next to him again on the big sofa. "I'm sure it's the storm that's bothering him."

"Poor dog. Shame your mom won't let him in the house. It's cozy here by the fire." He grinned with mischief, and winked at her. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if your mom got delayed, and the lights went off for good."

"Joe Bolo. Are you flirting with me?"

"Yeah, wanna do something about it?"

Rags's insistent bark came yet again, and Joe put his cup down with a clatter. "Okay, that's it. Something's wrong out there. I'm going to check it out."

"Oh, sit down, Joe. You're a worry wart," she said, attempting to reassure him as well as herself.

He ignored her, and headed for the hall where his rain slicker hung on the coatrack. She followed and watched as he slipped into it, and headed out the front door.

"It's probably nothing, but I'd rather check it out than sit here all evening and worry. Keep the doors locked, and don't let nobody in but me." He gave her a wave and shut the door.

Addie usually loved the drama, the audacious blustery show of a good electric storm, but not tonight. Tonight's tempest increased her nervousness, held notes of portent that she'd rather not hear. On her way back to the warmth of the fire, lightning blazed across the sky, and threatened to explode right through the windows.

She stopped to close the curtains on the bay windows, which looked over the front lawn toward the highway. She turned on the CD player, and nodded with pleasure as Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in E Minor filled the room.

Settled on the sofa again, she shucked her shoes, curled her legs under her, and snuggled into its deep comfort, searching for any measure of safety available. Rags's bark sounded fainter, while the rain pelted noisily against the glass, and small blue and orange starbursts exploded in the fire.

Acutely aware that this was the first time she'd been alone in three days, knots twisted in her abdomen, and her heart skipped erratically. Nothing to be afraid of, Addie Rivers. Joe's just outside and the doors are locked. Swallowing hard, she tucked herself even closer into the curve of the sofa and its arm.

It's okay. Everything is fine. Don't let this monster of a man spook you. Relax, Addie, relax.

In spite of her edginess, exhaustion soon took over. Addie's head began to nod with fatigue. The last three days had been tiring. She'd been balancing too many physical and emotional balls. Trying to keep the library services going, visiting Jennifer Hatfield's parents, attending Jennifer's funeral, consoling her own friends, calming her mother's fears, had all taken an emotional toll.

The lights went off again. Her stomach knotted, and she jolted upright. Firelight cast sinister shadows on the walls of the dim room.

"Damned if I'll turn into some witless nervous nellie," she insisted to herself. The words echoed back to her in the emptiness. Gritting her teeth with determination, she curled up again, and tugged an emerald-colored throw from the back of the sofa over her for warmth.

As her lids closed wearily, she wondered vaguely about the absence of Will Court this evening. He had been in the library every day, but had kept his distance. His presence in the rear of the library, though out of sight, had added to the stress of the past few days. The effort to restrain herself from casually wandering back to where he worked had taken all of Addie's will power. In the evenings, by the time she arrived home from her round of consolation visits, and interviews with police, Will had been sequestered in his bedroom.

Rags had stopped barking.

A shadow crossed the light between her and the fire. Her eyes flew open, and she found Will standing near the sofa in front of her. His slouching body cast a shadow over hers. Hands in jeans pockets, strands of dark hair clinging damply to his wet forehead, he watched her.

She sat up quickly, and the throw fell off her shoulders. "You."

"Sorry, Addie. Didn't know you were in here. I was going to make myself a snack and sit by the fire. Wanted to give it a good poke before I went to the kitchen. Can't cook anything now anyway, with the power off. You all alone?"

"Mom's at - uh, prayer meeting. Joe's here, our local police chief. Joe Bolo. But he went to find Rags." Nervousness made her words come in funny starts and stops. "Didn't you see him?"

"Nope. Parked as close to the house as I could get, and still got drenched."

"Rags has been barking all evening, and we were worried."

Self-consciously, she gathered the throw around her shoulders, and set her feet primly on the floor, but her bare toes looked like pale sausage links against the braided rug, and she jerked them back into the fall of the throw. She shivered, whether from nerves, or from the chill of the room, she couldn't decide, but she couldn't stop. Clenching her jaws to keep her teeth from clicking, and pressing her heels hard against the rug, she forced herself to sit quietly, to not reveal any emotion.

Ear-splitting thunder shook the house with its clout, but didn't seem to ruffle Will. He sank to the floor at her feet next to the butler's table. His navy cable sweater, the same one he'd worn at the library when he kissed her, looked damp on the shoulders. His jacket must have leaked, she thought irrelevantly. His arms rested on his propped-up knees, and his intense gaze seemed to look right into her, inspecting every thought, dream, fear, weakness she'd ever had.

"Addie, are you afraid of me?"

"Of course not. I'm just a little nervous, you know, with the power off, the storm, and I went to the funeral of one of my friends today."

"Yes, I heard about that at the library this afternoon. I'm extremely sorry about your friends. It must be terrifying for you."

"I think I'm still in shock. It's difficult to conceive such evil."

"Have they formed a profile of the killer?"

"Joe says they're looking for an intelligent man, at home with books, maybe a scholar of some sort, probably attractive to women, someone who considers himself a ladies' man, and who is angry about something. Furious at a perceived slight, or devastated by a failed relationship with a woman who was perhaps an avid reader."

His eyebrows drew together, and he frowned, his mouth turned down at the corners as if he was thinking hard.

"Sounds reasonable," he finally said, and smiled. "So Chief Bolo is here to protect you, I assume, not to court you."

"Heavens, no. Everyone knows Buck and I are engaged."

"Yes, well, it's good to know you have so many protectors." He smiled again, that so very devastating, lazy, engaging smile that caused her heart to curl up and flutter like a lacy valentine. "I'd like to keep an eye on you, too."

"Oh, that's not necessary. I've got so many watchdogs around me that I can't even cough without someone saying 'Addie, dearest, are you okay?' "

They laughed together. With the laughter, the muscles in Addie's jaws yielded somewhat and stopped aching, and her knees stopped tingling as the warmth of his smile began to thaw her tension.

"I missed you this afternoon, but your friend Lulu was a help." He glanced at the table next to him. "Are those the makings for s'mores?"

"Yes."

"Thought so. You've got marshmallow on your cheek, and chocolate at the corner of your mouth." She watched in stunned fascination, unable to move, like the snake and the snake charmer, as his hand came to her face and his thumb wiped the marshmallow from her cheek. "Sticky stuff."

"Guess I missed a spot."

"Maybe this will help."

He got to his knees, and kissed the spot where the stubborn marshmallow stuck. She caught her breath as her thighs warmed and trembled, and her heart shook until it rattled her ribs. Breathe, Addie, Breathe.

"Ummmm, tastes good," he murmured against her cheek.

"Will," she said weakly. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Have to get the chocolate off," he whispered, and licked at the bit of chocolate in the corner of her mouth.

Chocolate and marshmallow forgotten, the lick became a kiss, and Addie became a mindless, wanting, craving, creature of sensation. The kiss deepened, his sensual mouth demanding more, his tongue asking entrance, then entering hotly, exploring, darting, and caressing.

Addie heard herself moan and didn't care. Slowly, slowly, he disengaged his tongue, brought his fingers to her mouth and brushed them over her lips, then placed delicate butterfly kisses on her temples and dosed eyelids. He slid his fingers into her hair, and whispered into her ear.

"Open your eyes, Addie "

She did, and his eyes held hers, telling her of his admiration and desire.

"From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: they sparkle like the right Promethean fire; they are the books, the arts, the academe's that show, contain, and nourish all the world."

"Love's Labour's Lost, Act Four, Scene Three," she murmured weakly. "Will, it's quite obvious that we're attracted to each other, but you know I've been engaged to Buck for three years."

"Yes, much too long. If you were mine I wouldn't let three years go by without marrying you." He kissed her forehead, and said, "Methinks you don't protest enough about your so-called engagement, fair lady. I don't see much jubilation between the two of you. You happy, Addie Rivers?"

She should say yes, the word should leap from her mouth without hesitation, but it stuck in her throat as her heart rebelled. "I don't know about happiness. Is there such a thing?"

His hands cupped her face and he looked hard into her eyes. "Are you telling me you've given up on happiness?"

At the moment, Addie didn't care much about happiness or anything. All she wanted was to be close to Will again, skin close, whiskered face grazing hers, hot mouth against hers. She wanted the rough grid of his sweater scuffing her cheek. She wanted to breathe in the scent of the rain in his hair, the aroma of a rich cup of coffee enjoyed sometime this evening, and the clean, faint citrus fragrance of his aftershave. Her fingers ached to flirt with the small gold loop that glinted in his earlobe.

Answering his question about happiness was impossible because she was melting inside. An untamed river of wild yearning had filled the swollen mound between her legs, and tributaries flowed warmly down her legs, and up into her breasts. She was lost and she knew it.

"Answer me, Addie. Have you given up on happiness?" He kissed her lips lightly, then drew back to look at her again, the fierce light in his eyes questioning her, sweeping away any equilibrium she had left.

"I'll admit you make me wonder if I've been missing something, Will," she said shakily.

"Does this make you happy?" he asked, then kissed her again. She kissed him back, then slid over the edge of the sofa and down on the floor next to him.

"Oh, yes, it certainly does."

He nuzzled into her neck, planting soft kisses on her ear, across her collarbone, and in the hollow of her throat. Addie clasped her arms around his shoulders, and folded herself into him, breathing him in, loving the safe, solid feel of his chest, the tautness of his arms as he held her tight.

"Addie, do you want to go anywhere with this?" he whispered huskily in her ear.

Suddenly, the electricity hummed back on. Light flooded the room. Addie jerked away from him, embarrassed, feeling that a dirty secret had been exposed, and belatedly remembering that Joe might appear at any minute. Relief flooded her when she realized she had an excuse not to answer his loaded question about continuing this dangerous physical flirtation.

He raised his eyebrows quizzically, a smile on his face, and asked, "Kissing's not as much fun when you can see me?"

She laughed and relaxed back against his chest and into his arms where she wanted to be, her head on his shoulder. Will kicked off his loafers, stretched his legs out on the floor toward the fire, leaned against the sofa, and gathered her close.

The mood was broken, but Addie felt comfortable. A newness sang within her, thrilling her in its raw beckoning call. "Come, Addie," it said, "come adventure with me, come explore life, and passion, and heart happiness, and maybe even heartache."

"Hungry?" Will asked. "I could stay here forever, but I'm starving. Haven't eaten since breakfast."

Addie wanted to stay right where she was, warm against Will's side, thinking forbidden thoughts, dreaming dreams and seeing them come true in the dance and leap of the hungry flames. But she knew Will had made a wise suggestion. Better to be busy than to stay here and give in to temptation.

"I'm not hungry," she said, "but we'll fix you a snack and bring it back in here."

In the kitchen, as Will chopped tomatoes and onions, and Addie beat eggs for an omelet, she worried guiltily about Joe. She was glad he hadn't found her kissing Will, but he should have returned long ago.

"I'm getting worried about Joe," she told Will. "He should have been back by now."

"I'll go look for him. He'd probably like some food, too. Do you have an extra slicker around?"

The back door flew open, banging noisily as it bounced against the wall. Buck rushed inside the kitchen, bringing rain and wind with him. A worried frown on his face, he gave a swift, curious glance at Will, then removed his sou'wester and slapped it against his leg. Drops of water flew everywhere, landing on the floor, on the table, and on Addie and Will.

"Thank God you're okay, Addie. Call an ambulance. I found Joe unconscious near the barn, and someone beat Rags half to death. All I could think about was running here to see if the bastard had gotten to you."

Addie's head whirled. Sick with thick, sudden fear, she grabbed the back of a kitchen chair and held on tight. "Is Joe going to be okay?"

"I don't know. I should have dragged him into the barn out of the rain, but I was afraid to move him. Rags needs to see a vet, pronto." He ran a wet hand across the top of his spiked cut, and gave Will a cold look. "Hello, Court. You been here all evening?"

"We don't have time for questions, Buck. I'll call 911 and we'll go right to the barn," said Addie, running to the pantry for slickers for her and Will.

"You're not going out in this storm," Buck declared with authority.

"I most certainly am. My dog and my best friend are out there."

Fifteen minutes later, she followed the two men as they carried Joe's sagging body toward the house. Rags had been moved into the barn and covered with dry canvas.

They laid Joe gently on the kitchen floor. Addie disregarded the other two men as she knelt beside Joe, loosened his collar, and pulled it away from his neck. She wiped the rain from his still face with a kitchen towel, and whispered encouraging words. Blood trickled from his ear and onto the floor, supplying a spreading puddle of red against the topaz tile, and mixing obscenely with the mud tracked in by all of them.

The sight and feel of dependable, stalwart, protective Joe lying vulnerable and helpless on the floor beside her cast any remaining feelings of safety and normalcy aside for Addie. She closed her eyes, dug deep, and grabbed hold of an inner core of strength she didn't know she possessed. Opening her eyes, she kissed Joe on the forehead and uttered a quick prayer.

"You're going to be all right, Joe," she told him. "The ambulance will be here shortly."

His eyes fluttered open for a second, and he tried to speak.

Addie placed her ear near his mouth. "Addie," he whispered, his voice a faint, sibilant hiss, barely a sound at all, only a valiant effort. She would never forget his words. "Be careful," he gasped. "He's here, close by. It's ... don't believe... he ... what ..."

And that had been all Joe had managed to get out. Had she understood him correctly? It was clear he was warning her that the killer was close by, of that she was sure. But how close? In Blue Springs, or in the neighborhood, or near the house? And what, or who, shouldn't she believe?

An ambulance siren could be heard in the distance. Addie sighed with relief.

"Now you can answer my question, Court," said Buck. "How long were you here this evening?"

Addie looked up at Buck in dismay. How could he be thinking about anything but Joe and Rags?

"About forty-five minutes," answered Will dismissively. To Addie, he said, "I'll go to the barn and stay with Rags until we can get him to the vet."

"Wait a minute, Court," said Buck. "You're not going anywhere until I find out where you've been all night."

Buck's belligerent tone shocked Addie. She'd never known him to be anything but pleasant and conciliatory to everyone. He could be hardheaded and stubborn at times, but was always patient and courteous with whomever he disagreed with.

"I don't have to answer to you, Harvey." Will brushed by Buck, and reached for the doorknob. "Rags is more important now."

Buck's face got red, his refined features pinched with anger. He seized the front of Will's slicker and jerked him toward his chest.

"You listen to me, Mr. Stranger in Town. I want to fuckin' know where you were tonight. For all I know you kicked Rags half to death, knocked Joe senseless, then came up here to get cozy with my fiancée."

Will's face tightened. He grabbed Buck's restraining hand, and squeezed the offending fist until Buck winced. "Let go, Harvey. This isn't the time for a fight, and Rags is alone out there."

"Will, tell him where you were tonight or he'll never let you go," insisted Addie. "He's stubborn as a mule, and determined."

"Release me, Harvey, and I'll tell you."

Buck released Will's slicker and glared defiantly at him. "Start talking."

"I don't have to tell you a damn thing, but for Addie's sake I will. I did research at Marysville Community College, then had coffee with old friends."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care whether you believe him or not," wailed Addie. The ambulance could be heard racing along the highway. She shoved both men, and opened the door. "Will, go to the barn, and Buck, show the paramedics where we are."

Will hunched deep into his rain gear, and headed out into the storm again as the ambulance drove up the driveway.

"I don't like that guy," said Buck to Addie. "I particularly don't like him being here with you. We'll talk about this later." He shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped out onto the porch to motion the paramedics toward the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, Addie stood on the back porch, huddling into her slicker, ignoring her mother's pleas.

"Addie, do come in out of the rain," implored Eileen Rivers.

Her mother had returned home as the ambulance paramedics worked with Joe in the kitchen. She stood now wringing her hands in the open door behind Addie.

Soaked to the skin, Addie knew she was being foolish, but she didn't care, didn't even feel the wetness as the rain gusted in and out of her porch shelter.

The ambulance's flashing lights whirled discolike in the black, soggy night. Yellow, pink, and red, they pierced through the rain, highlighting the forms of the paramedics and Buck as they gently placed Joe's gurney into the ambulance. The specterlike forms standing around the large, official-looking vehicle only enhanced Addie's feelings of unreality, her increasing perception of encroaching danger.

"Addie, you're getting soaked," said her mother from the open kitchen door. "I insist you come in."

Addie wanted to go to the hospital with Joe, but everyone said that wouldn't be a safe idea, so she stood there feeling helpless and useless, worrying about him, and his warning words.

The ambulance tore away carrying one of her best friends, the one person with whom she'd always felt incredibly safe. Joe Bolo was pure gold, someone Addie had always counted on to come through, someone she'd taken for granted. Tears mixed with the rain on her cheeks. She dashed them away, and strained to see a figure splashing toward her through the rain and mud with a burden in his arms.

Will came carrying Rags. He headed for his car and Addie knew he intended taking Rags to the veterinary clinic himself. Something in her heart lit and took off like a firecracker in the stormy night, and she acknowledged immediately it wasn't retrievable. The exploding clarity would be forever etched in her soul, and for the moment felt glorious.

She watched as Will loaded Rags into the backseat of his car and listened to Buck's directions to the clinic. Gripping her slicker tight around her, she ran out to them.

"I want to go with you. I know the way. We'll all go together."

"No, Addie," said Buck, holding her arm rightly. "The two of us have things to discuss, and Will doesn't mind going alone do you, Will?"

Will, rain plastering his black hair to his forehead, gave Buck a peculiar look, then shrugged his shoulders, and said, "Of course not. Be happy to."

"We're imposing on a guest, Buck. This isn't right." Will spoke up, his expression grim, but his words light. "I'll be back as soon as possible. All I ask is that you have some of your mom's hot vegetable soup ready." He got into his car, closed the door with a slam and started the engine, as if to put an end the discussion.

Addie and Buck walked through the rain back to the house, his hand clasped firmly around her upper arm.

"I'm sure Joe's going to be just fine, sweetie, and Rags is a tough old dog. We'll visit them both tomorrow."

Addie barely heard his words. All she could see was dear Joe's pale face against the bloody, muddy floor, and all she could hear were his words. "He's close by, Addie."

4

The always convivial, noisy, lunchtime crowd at Dixie's Diner provided a semblance of normalcy for Addie, which she desperately needed. The sound of plates clattering behind the counter, and hamburgers sizzling on the griddle, and the tantalizing smell of country-fried chicken seemed somehow reassuring.

Buck and Addie sat in the corner booth Dixie always saved for them if she knew they were coming. They'd made the booth their own since high school days.

Addie viewed the meatloaf and fluffy mashed potatoes in front of her with misery. The last time she'd had Dixie's specialty was the day she and Joe had lunched here over two weeks ago. Now Joe was in a coma and she didn't feel like eating. Restless and disturbed, she stared out the plate glass window at the denuded oaks and maples on Town Square. Brown, gold, and orange leaves scuttled indiscriminately across the street and sidewalks. Though midday, the sky was gray with cloud cover.

"Eat up, honey," said Buck. "I've got a meeting with the Hoedown Committee at one o'clock."

"I know, but I'm not very hungry, and I can't attend the meeting with you anyway. I have work to do at the library."

"I've got a super idea. Since I'm committee chairman, I can schedule meetings anytime and anyplace I want to. I'll call everyone and we'll meet at the library instead of church."

"No, Buck" she said emphatically. "Donny Jim's been acting weird lately, and his aunt called to say he probably wouldn't show up this morning. I have things I need to catch up on and I don't care to have a lot of people around."

"Whatever you say, honey, but I'll be there as soon as the meeting is over." He winked at her and cut another bite of chicken steak. "With Joe in the hospital the only official protection you have is Lee Bert. The FBI seems to think he's sufficient. I don't. You know I love the kid, but he's slow as molasses."

"Everyone in town watches me, Buck."

She watched as he placed the meat precisely in his mouth, chewed his calculated number of times, she could never remember whether it was fifteen or twenty, then dabbed delicately at the corners of his lips with the napkin. She'd watched him do this a thousand times. Why was it all of a sudden irritating?

"Yes, even Dr. Court watches you. I don't like him, Addie, and I don't trust him. I particularly don't like him sleeping in the same house with you. You and your mother are defenseless out there in the country by yourselves."

"My mother likes him, Buck, and that's enough for me. She's a pretty good judge of character."

"Ha! That's what you think. Remember the time she fell for that con man's spiel about getting her house painted for half-price? He put one coat of watered-down paint on it. When it rained the paint washed right off, and the salesman was nowhere to be found."

"Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. So far Will has been very helpful. When he isn't researching or hiking, he lends Bobby Heed a hand with the chores."

Perturbed at this news that Will was making himself so at home, Buck choked on his coffee, and the hot liquid dripped off the cup and down his chin. Tiny brown spots soiled his blue and gold striped tie. Furious that he'd been so careless, he dabbed at them with his immaculate handkerchief, all the while glancing up at her with angry looks.

"Addie, I can't believe how you two have let that man worm his way into your good graces. You really need looking after, which is exactly why I feel we should be married soon. This is the first of November. How about a Christmas wedding? Six weeks should give you plenty of time to pull a few things together. Doesn't have to be fancy."

The knots in her tummy tightened, and a whining noise, like mosquitoes, droned in her ears. She shook her head to make the sound disappear, but it persisted. She drew a deep breath and released it slowly, slowly. The whining, buzzing phenomenon faded away, but left her light-headed. She lifted her fork and poked indifferently at the mashed potatoes. The golden pool of melted butter on top of the mound slid down to swim on her plate.

"What's the matter, honey? If you don't like the December idea, we can do January, maybe. But I don't want to put it off any longer than that."

Addie had an earthshaking thought. For the first time she wondered if she sincerely loved Buck. Did she really want to marry him, or had he become a habit she'd neglected to review, a rut she'd let herself travel in? They'd become a team of well-trained ponies pulling a wagonload of expectations placed there by her mother and the town.

"I'm not ready to talk..."

Dixie saved her. She appeared at the booth, pulled her pencil from behind her ear, and began to add up their bill. She stopped writing and stared at Addie's plate.

"Adelaide Rivers. I never in my whole life seen you leave a plate of meatloaf and potatoes. Are you sick?"

"No, no, Dixie. I'm just not hungry today."

"Well, Lord have mercy, come to think of it, it's probably them murders that are shakin' you up." She frowned, and looked at Addie with speculation. "Scares me to death thinkin' about them poor girls, and thinkin' there might be someone around here who could take a notion to kill any of us. You takin' good care of her, Buck?"

"Always have, always will." He smiled and reached for Addie's hand resting beside her plate. "Nobody's going to hurt Addie. I'll make sure of that."

"Not with you around, eh, Buck?" asked Dixie.

"Right! Things are going along like we've always planned. I like to make sure our lives are tidy and neat. Eliminates a lot of stress. In fact we were just talking about setting a wedding date."

"God help us, it's about time." Addie smiled and refrained from pulling her hand out of Buck's grasp. Dear God, what was wrong with her? Ashamed of her traitorous reaction, she lowered her gaze to the table to regain her composure. Light beamed down from the garish fake Tiffany lamp hanging over the table and caught their hands.

The Rolex, which Buck had saved for years to buy, gleamed gold and silver on his smooth slender wrist. A different watch on another wrist flashed into her mind before she could suppress the memory. An old, but rich and luxurious leather band held the simple gold watch on Will's strong wrist. Tufts of dark hair curled over the leather, hugging the band as if they were at home there, comfortable with its feel and shape.

Remembering now the warm feel of the worn band and his skin when she'd run her fingers down his arm to catch his hand, Addie flushed with guilt.

Dixie laughed. "What's the matter, Addie, sweet? Talkin' about the wedding embarrass you? Never known you to be shy. Look at them pink cheeks, Buck, You'd think you two jest met."

Buck smiled what she called his "endearing" smile, the smile that showed everyone just how much he loved them, the smile that made everyone say he was "so charming."

Oh, my. God, Addie, you have to stop this. Where is the love you felt for Buck? Has it been simply a feeling of great friendship and companionship all along? Did you fall into step with everyone's hopes and expectations because it was easier? Or is it Will Court who has muddied the waters?

No, she had to be honest with herself. She'd been looking differently at Buck for more than a year. That's why she continued to put off the wedding. But her crazy reactions to Will Court had certainly highlighted her confusion about Buck.

"What do you hear about Joe?" asked Dixie.

"I visit every day, and he's still in a coma," said Buck. "Addie goes every day, too."

Addie was surprised at this information from Buck. She had no idea that he visited Joe so frequently. Buck had always been fond of Joe, but a bit condescending.

"Poor Joe," said Dixie. "He jest knew he could protect you, and there wouldn't be no problems. Told me so himself. Always had a crush on you, Addie. I think he still does. I'm prayin' for him. How's your dog doin'?"

Before Buck could answer for her again, Addie said, "Thanks for asking, Dixie. Rags is still in the clinic. The vet said he'd have to stay another week or so."

"I'm real sorry about what's been happening. It's depressing. Hell's bells, let's change the subject," said Dixie. "I hear you got a real hunk stayin' with you. That must be kind of exciting. I seen him goin' into the library a time or two. Mavis and the girls in the flower shop next door say they been using the library a lot lately."

"Dr. Will Court," said Addie, with a smile. "I wondered why Mavis and Mertie were so interested in books all of a sudden. Which reminds me, I've got to relieve Lulu."

"I'll walk you over" said Buck.

Addie waved good-bye to Buck and Lulu with relief. Buck had insisted on inspecting every inch of the library, going down every aisle, poking his nose into every closet. He'd even gone down into the foul, damp cobweb filled cellar, which was empty. Addie avoided the cellar like a dreaded toothache. She hated the spiders there, and the fetid smell, and it was useless for storage because the clammy air destroyed the books. Finally, she was alone.

Thursday afternoons were usually slow. No children's classes, no book groups, but sometimes an occasional reader wandering in to look for a good book. Addie loved the quiet, the sense of being protected, enclosed by walls of books filled with wisdom, history, adventure, and love.

Will wasn't here.

She would have known the minute she stepped through the doors. She didn't know how she knew, but she always did. It was as if she had built-in antennae. Not only did she know when he was in the library, she didn't have to see him to sense where he was in the sizeable converted house; behind the history stack, or in the reference section, or in the small galley kitchen.

Shaken at her deep disappointment in his absence, Addie shook her head in confusion. What is happening to me? One minute I'm scared to death of him, and the next minute I want to throw myself into his arms and make mad passionate love. She massaged her temples, trying to avert the headache she felt coming on.

Stop this! Get to work. Lots of leaves to clean up. When Donny Jim didn't show, the clean-up jobs fell to Addie. She seized the rake Buck had gotten for her from the supply closet, and headed outdoors to the leaf-littered front lawn.

In spite of its pumpkin companions, the scarecrow looked forlorn and out of place. Halloween had come and gone and he was still here. Addie poked at him with the rake, but hadn't the heart to destroy him yet. She would rake the leaves first.

The square was empty. It was that midafternoon lull when children were still in school, and Blue Springs residents were either deep in their work, or napping.

An hour later, knee-deep in leaves, hands and nose cold from the November chill, she heard a car pull up and park in the small parking area behind her. The sound of the engine was familiar, and her heart leaped into her throat. She raked furiously, ignoring the thud of a car door closing, ignoring the rustle of footsteps approaching behind her, ignoring her watery knees and rapid breathing.

The footsteps stopped. A shower of leaves fell over her head and onto her shoulders, littering the front of her red down jacket. Brushing them away, she turned to confront Will.

"Hey, you're not much help. I just put those into a neat pile."

"You sure did, and they hate it." His eyes bright with mischief, he scooped another handful into her face.

Laughing, Addie retaliated with a handful of her own and the fight was on. Flinging armfuls of leaves at each other, they battled furiously, but Will had the advantage as he advanced on Addie, backing her up into the huge pile she'd built. She stumbled and fell, laughing, deep into the center of the heap of crisp leaves. On her back, she tried to defend herself by scooping leaves in his face as he closed in on her. He grabbed her wrists and fell next to her, landing at her side, leaves flying everywhere. He propped himself on one elbow, and leaned over her, inspecting her face with a serious expression.

"I do believe, Miss Rivers, that your nose is red, your face is dirty, and your hair is full of leaves. Definitely not the appearance of a proper librarian."

Addie held her breath as he brushed leaf fragments off her cheeks, then placed a swift kiss on her cold nose. He drew back to look at her again, his face only inches from hers, and his breath warmed her chin.

"I'm sorry, Professor, if I don't live up to your idea of a proper librarian, but you certainly contributed to my disreputable state."

"Yeah, I sure did, and I have an urge to make you more disreputable."

He lowered his head and caught her mouth in a hot kiss. Addie forgot about being cold and dirty and confused. She felt vital and alive, glowing and carefree. Swiftly lost in her new feelings, she kissed him back, drawing immense pleasure from the give and play of their lips and the longing burning in her breasts. He slipped a leg over her, and his long length warmed her body, acting as if that was its sole purpose.

A car horn honked in the square, and abruptly Addie came to her senses. They were lying on the ground kissing in view of anyone who passed or anyone peering from a shop window.

"Dear God, Will, this is crazy. Please get up. Someone will see us."

That lazy, heartbreaking smile came, and he kissed her on the chin. "No one can see us, Addie. I'm not a complete fool. We're hidden in the middle of the leaves. Look, there's a mound on both sides."

"But someone might come up the library walk to the front door."

She pushed on his chest, and slowly, reluctantly he drew away. They both sat up, and Addie threw an anxious glance toward the street. The passing car was now out of sight, the square was still quiet, and no one seemed to be around. Will stood up and gave her a hand, helping her to rise to her feet.

"Thank you."

"No problem" he said, and gave her an unfathomable look. Was it disappointment? In her?

His eyes had lost their sparkle and now seemed to smolder. Smolder with what? Anger, impatience, hurt? His frivolity and playfulness had dissolved into a seriousness that disturbed her.

"I have to finish cleaning up here," she said. "You can go on into the library if you wish."

"No, I contributed to the mess, so I'll help you clean up."

Soon, having obtained another rake from the supply closet, Will worked at her side, gathering and bagging the legions of dry leaves. He said nothing, worked silently and efficiently, and never looked her way. Addie went through moments of sheer joy at his silent companionship, and moments of raging guilt when she thought of Buck.

The air grew colder and the skies darker as the afternoon waned, and near the end of their task he finally spoke.

"Seems a shame to stuff all these leaves into bags. There's one pile left. Let's burn them. Leaves put on a spectacular show for us in the fell. They deserve a better end than being packed into black bags and thrown away, and surely Mr. Scarecrow has earned a roaring send-off."

The idea enchanted her. She hadn't had a bonfire in years, and suddenly wondered why. Had she become so set in her ways that she'd forgotten the delights of her childhood? Will Court's ability to call on the child in him was endearing, and she felt herself drawn deeper into the web he wove.

"Blue Springs has an ordinance about burning trash, but there's no wind today, so who gives a fig. Let's do it," she cried.

Qualms about Will, worry about Joe, fear about the killer of her friends, and guilty feelings concerning Buck all dissolved. Addie threw caution to the winds as they hurriedly stowed the bagged leaves at the curb for pickup. They piled the remaining leaves around the scarecrow and lit a match to the artful mound.

Will laughed and put his arm around her shoulder as the leaves caught and roared with flames high into the air. Addie rested snug into the crook of his shoulder, and laughed with him. The woodsy tang of smoke soon fogged the air and drifted into the square, along with the hiss, snap and crackle of burning leaves. She felt ten years old again.

The fire began to draw a crowd; Burt Manning came from the hardware store, and Dixie with Jingles, the chef from the diner; the Simples children dropped their bikes on the lawn and danced around the bonfire; Mertie came from the flower shop; old Mr. Cartwright came to sit on the stone bench adorning the library lawn.

Caught in the romance Will had created on the square, Addie beamed with joy, loving the delighted faces of the children, the obvious pleasure of the adults, and the whispering memories crossing the lined face of eighty-year-old James Cartwright.

Gradually, she tuned into the questioning glances Dixie cast her way, and the sly, snoopy peeks Mertie was taking at Will's arm around her shoulder. She straightened and stepped away from him.

"Thank Dr. Court for the bonfire. It was his idea," she called to all of them, smiling. She waved. "I've got work to do."

Will followed her into the library. She wished that he hadn't. What must her friends think? Rebellion flared up in her, bright red and dangerous, and suddenly she didn't care what her mother or the whole darn town thought. This was her life she was living, not theirs.

"We shouldn't leave the fire unattended," she said, attempting a casualness she didn't feel.

"Jingles volunteered to keep an eye on it," Will said. He gave her another unreadable look and went to his usual table at the rear of the library.

With determination, she marched to Fiction, prepared to organize Hemingway through Millay, hoping in the process to harness and put in order her galloping fear and confusion. She climbed the ladder, reached for The Sun Also Rises, and heard the soft slide of his moccasins behind her. Light-headed, she squeezed the ladder rungs.

"Look at me, Addie."

"Will, I know I'm not being fair to you," she said from her perch, whispering into the books. "But all of my life I thought that I would probably marry Buck, and suddenly you appear in my life and everything goes crazy."

"Look at me," he demanded again, "and come down off that damn ladder."

Feet and legs, behaving like feathery wisps of nothing, moved shakily down the ladder, and landed with miraculous safety on the floor next to a pair of masculine moccasins.

She turned to face him. "I've made up my mind that I have to tell Buck how I'm feeling. Even if this thing between us goes nowhere, I must be honest with Buck. If a complete stranger can come into town and turn my head so, then I'm certainly not ready to marry him."

He held her chin, and rubbed his thumb along her jaw. "Do you think of me as a stranger, Addie? I hope not. I feel as if I've known you all of my life."

"I know, Will, I feel the same way. But it's scary for me."

"Scary like I'm going to hurt you, or scary of changes and new things?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe both."

"I would never hurt you. You must know that you've become very important to me. I, too, am feeling things I've never felt before. It's quite obvious that I'm drawn to you physically," he said, and smiled softly, "but it's more than that. I love your love of books and history. I get a kick out of your sense of humor. And there's more, but I don't have the right to say any of it. Give me a chance, Addie. Give us a chance."

Overwhelmed, she covered the hand that held her chin, and said, "Will, I'm going to have a talk with Buck tomorrow night before the hoedown. I'll let you know how it goes."

He frowned. "Your mother invited me to the hoedown, and I accepted. I'm not sure Buck will be happy I'm there. Will that be awkward for you?"

"Maybe, a little. But I'm a big girl, and Buck is a gentleman."

They jumped at the clatter of a dustpan hitting the wooden floor, and turned to see Donny Jim watching from the end of the aisle. Waves of purple and red undulated over his face, then faded to a sheet-white, and he hurriedly bent to pick up the dustpan he had dropped.

Addie was surprised at his appearance, but held her hand out to beckon him forward. She wanted to try to explain to him the scene he had obviously just witnessed. But he shook his head at her gesture, and his eyelids fell to cover an expression she had never seen before and could not understand. He moved away, vanishing silently somewhere in the labyrinth of shelves.

"He seems completely enamored with you, almost too much so. Are you sure he's harmless?" asked Will, and he leaned over to place a small kiss on her forehead.

"Donny Jim wouldn't hurt a fly, Will. Don't worry about him."

Doors slammed, and heavy footsteps pounded into the library. "Addie? Addie, come quick."

Addie recognized Deputy Lee Bert's voice. She ran to the front and found him pacing frantically.

"What on earth is the matter?" she asked him.

The lanky power company meter-man-turned-sheriff's-deputy shook his head like a dog ridding itself of water. "Addie, get holt of yerself, don't panic or nothin'."

"Just spit it out, Lee Bert. I can take care of myself."

"It's Joe. He died, Addie, he died, he's done passed over," the young man said with a big gulp.

Addie's head whirled, her knees buckled and she sat in the nearest chair.

"No!"

Not Joe. Never Joe. The whole business was hideous enough, but now Joe had died protecting her. Would this nightmare never end?

Lee Bert knelt on one knee in front of her, and took her hands. "Can I get you some water, or do you need a hankie or somethin'?"

"No, I'll be fine. When did he die? Was anyone with him?"

"The doctors figure it was about two this afternoon. He never regained consciousness that they know of. They think he jest slipped from that coma into the arms of the Almighty. His breathin' and everything seemed good, so no one had checked on him for about an hour, and when the nurse finally did, he was gone."

"But it's almost dinner time. Why are we just hearing this?"

"The Marysville police wanted to make sure his family was informed first, and they wanted to question the staff at the hospital. They're going to do one of them autopsies, too. Want to make sure Joe died natural, with no help from anyone."

Hoping to clear her head, she raked her shaking hands through her hair, scraping the nails against her scalp until it hurt. Nothing helped. Nothing ever would. Joe was gone. Joe was gone because of her.

"Ohhhh, God, Lee Bert. He was such a good man."

She sat straight, threw her shoulders back, and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I should have been with him. I hate to think of him dying alone. Did he have any visitors, anyone who might have been with him?"

"Well, yeah." He looked behind her, frowned and nodded his head. "Him. The folk story professor. The floor nurse said he was there about one-thirty.”

Addie jerked around to find Will standing behind her. She wondered how long he had been there.

"What's happened?" Will asked.

"Joe Bolo died. Lee Bert says you were there this afternoon."

"Yes, I dropped in after lunch. I'm sorry to hear this."

Lee Bert stuck his thumbs in his belt and thrust his pouch of a stomach forward. "Yeah, and the police want to talk to you. Now jest how come you would be visitin' Joe, professor? You didn't even know him."

"I was there the night he was injured, and felt partly responsible. If you must know, deputy, it wasn't the first time I visited."

Addie saw suspicion grow in Lee Bert's eyes, and gnawing dread joined the grief wreaking havoc inside of her.

"This is nonsense," said Addie. "I'm sure Joe died from his injuries. There's no need to drag anyone else into this."

She smiled at Lee Bert, trying to diffuse the tension between the men. He didn't return her smile, and Addie's skin prickled with apprehension. A pleading glance at Will did nothing to assure her.

His eyes were dark and unreadable. His lips had thinned and hardened into a grimace. Will looked angry and dangerous.

5

Twilight traced pink streamers across a darkening plum-colored sky. The Allegheny foothills in the distance had already dissolved into the night. Hoedown merrymakers wrapped their jackets close as the sharp November air pinched cheeks and hands until they were rosy.

Henry Meredith, the old gentleman sitting in the rocking chair next to Will on the Simples's front porch, had fallen asleep. His story told, he'd drained the last of his hot chocolate and nodded off. Will placed his blue pad of paper on the porch at his feet, then tugged the plaid stadium blanket covering Henry knees up over his chest, and tucked it beneath the man's straggly beard.

He rubbed his cold hands together and blew on them, sitting back to enjoy the scenery, which meant looking for Addie. Occupied most of the afternoon with Henry, the elderly man Addie had brought to the picnic for him to interview, Will had paid scant attention to the activity around him.

The porch of the Simples's farmhouse looked across a square meadow to a large weather-beaten gray barn. All afternoon, people carrying plates of food and drink had eddied in and out of the barn and across the meadow to the house. In the fading light the picnic looked as if it was winding down. They were finishing their dessert, putting their baskets together, and cleaning up. Laughing children were helped off, jumping and tumbling like joyful puppies, from the hay wagons. From the barn the strains of a fiddle tuning up could be heard.

The scene seemed bucolic; a church social on a beautiful crisp, purple, fall mountain evening, but Will knew better. Currents of anger, fear, and suspicion, some of it aimed at him, surged close beneath the peaceful, amiable surface. The specter of Joe's funeral in two days didn't help matters.

Addie had informed him briefly, before she left him with Henry, that Buck had been shocked when she told him of her interest in Will. He'd insisted her attraction was simply infatuation, and they should continue with their wedding plans. They had argued, but eventually Buck calmed down, and agreed it would be all right with him if they delayed plans for a while longer.

Will stood up to look for her. He saw her shepherding a group of children into the barn, Buck by her side. A shiver of apprehension ran down his spine, for no reason that he could think of except that he'd grown to dislike Buck. Chilled, he zipped up his jacket and jammed his hands into the pockets.

Buck may seem calm to Addie, but Will had recognized the signs of simmering anger as the school principal had greeted him. Buck Harvey was difficult to read, but years of dealing with reluctant college students, and competitive fellow professors, and years of interviewing subjects who were tentative about telling their family folk tales, gave Will an advantage. Buck's eyes had been flat, showing no emotion at all. When they'd shaken hands, Buck's hand was cold and dry. His greeting, "Hi, Dr. Court. Happy you could be with us this evening. Thoughtful of Eileen Rivers to invite you," though said with a smile and pleasant in form, was expressed in cold, clipped tones.

The one constant of the day had been the presence of Deputy Lee Bert. Lee Bert had established himself under a tree near the porch, and had kept an eye on Will, and Henry Meredith, the whole afternoon. Only the lure of the overladen picnic table had beckoned the lawman away from his self-appointed post. He'd returned quickly with two plates piled high with ribs, chicken, biscuits, and fudge cake. Will had tuned him out, and ignored the irritating surveillance.

Lee Bert approached him now, ambling along as if he'd just noticed Will on the porch.

"Well, hello, Professor. I see ol' Henry faded out on you."

"Yes, but we had a nice conversation. He had some interesting stories to tell."

"Good," said Lee Bert, nodding his head and chewing on a matchstick. "Good. I guess that means you should have plenty of stories now, huh? You'll be leavin' soon, I suppose. Huh?"

"You anxious for me to leave, Lee Bert?"

"Let's jest say that terrible things have been happenin' since you arrived, professor. Poor Joe, God rest his soul, wasn't real happy about you bein' here and I ain't either. Fact is, the folks in Blue Springs have a hard time gettin' used to smarty-pants strangers, especially those wearin' earrings. Fact is, the FBI is wantin' to question you as to your whereabouts when Joe was attacked."

"I told Buck I was in Marysville, and I'll tell the FBI the same thing," said Will.

His irritation at the distrust of this small town cop grew, and he began to be concerned at mention of the FBI. Perhaps he'd been too cavalier about the cloud of suspicion cast around him.

"And they ain't too happy about your bein' at the hospital shortly before Joe passed over."

"I'm sure, by this time, they will have ascertained that a nurse was in the room most of the time," he said, enunciating each word so that it dripped with sarcasm.

"Excuse me, Lee Bert. Mrs. Simples volunteered to sit with Henry while I'm at the square dance. I have to find her.”

"Sure, Professor. I know I ain't got too much smarts, not enough to catch the killer. But I'm like a dog with a bone, and I'm sure not going to let nobody get to Addie. See you in the barn." Lee Bert tipped his cowboy hat and walked away.

Mrs. Simples took up her post next to Henry Meredith, and Will headed toward the barn and the sound of music. The sky had grown dark, but a full moon shone on the milling crowd.

He knew a few people; a man he'd met at the library, Dixie and Jingles from the diner, a church friend of Eileen Rivers, and a mountain woman he'd interviewed. They greeted him quietly, careful of being too friendly, not wanting to offend Buck, he figured. Dixie and Jingles popped a forbidden can of beer, and offered him one as he passed.

"Hey, Professor, how about a beer? The preacher's gone home," sang out Dixie. Clad in tight jeans and a frilly off-the-shoulder blouse, Dixie's ample middle-aged bottom and pillowy breasts were displayed without apology.

Everyone laughed, and others sheepishly displayed their own hidden cache of beer or wine hidden beneath the hay, or behind a post, or under a jacket. Will smiled, waved, and relaxed a little. Maybe this wasn't the prudish, puritanical crowd he'd expected.

Addie stood near the caller platform with Buck. He caught her anxious eyes on him as he stood in the doorway. He ached to reassure her that all was well, that he could handle himself among her friends. If Buck thought he had Will at a disadvantage, he'd have to think again. Will smiled to himself. He'd been raised on a farm in Iowa, and was quite at home with square dances, hayrides, picnics, and other small town rites. It had been a while since he'd done any folk or square dancing.

Yale University, and its accompanying social mores, didn't offer much opportunity for barn dances. His last fifteen years had been spent at departmental teas, faculty get-togethers, formal banquets honoring fellow professors, and occasional performances with the English Department's Jazz Band, where he played the cornet. Frequent excursions into New York City for the latest shows, dining at his favorite Italian restaurant there, or rich, stress-free days at one of the museums satisfied his need for a different pace.

At a glance he could tell the church social had metamorphosed into a carefree community wingding. Most of the children had been sent home with baby-sitters. Those who remained played with Brad and Amy Simples in the hayloft overhead. They'd made a fort with the baled hay, and placed old, stored and forgotten chairs within the waist-high walls. Baby kittens climbed gingerly over and around the bales. The children were laughing, and tossing handfuls of straw at one another.

Jingles, the diminutive short-order cook at Dixie's Diner, appeared at his side in the open doorway.

"How ya' doin', Professor?" The smoke from his pipe drifted up into Will's face. "Sure you wouldn't like a beer, some cider, maybe? We got some potent cider. It's been puckerin' up for a year now. Dern good stuff."

"No thanks, Jingles. I'm a guest of Addie and Eileen Rivers, and I want to stay out of trouble." The acrid pipe smoke wreathed around Jingles's bald head and drifted behind them out the barn door into the cold moonlit night "Besides, I'm not too popular to begin with. Gotta be on my best behavior."

"Okay. Jest tryin' to be sociable. The ladies look real pretty, don't they?"

Several women, who were obviously square-dance regulars, wore colorful circular skirts and white blouses, while their partners wore jeans, white shirts, boots, and bow ties. Will couldn't take his eyes off Addie. She was shedding her heavy sweater in the warm barn, and like a butterfly from its cocoon she emerged in a scoop-necked sky blue dress with puffed sleeves, nipped-in waist and full skirt. Her coppery hair shone bright in the glow of the Christmas lights looping from the loft and strung throughout the barn.

"Yeah, Jingles, you're right. They sure do look pretty."

Will studied the milling crowd. Most of them looked familiar, even if he didn't know who they were. One man worried him. Young, fair-haired, pleasant faced, but dressed not quite right.

What bothers me about him? Will asked himself. His trousers were black and neatly pressed, too dressy, and his shiny shoes were all wrong.

"You know everyone here, Jingles?"

"Jest about. One or two strange faces." Jingles seemed unperturbed that there would be people here he didn't know, so Will tried to lose his concern. His scrutiny returned like an arrow to Addie.

He saw Buck say something to her. She nodded her head and started toward Will, but Buck held her by the arm and evidently told her to stay put.

"Addie's about as pretty as they come, ain't she?" remarked Jingles.

Was it so obvious that Will couldn't stop looking at her? Did the whole town know they couldn't keep their hands off of each other?

Reluctantly, he turned his gaze to Jingles. "Yeah," he said to the grizzled old cook. "Addie's special."

"Buck's been thinkin' that for a number of years."

"Are you trying to tell me something, Jingles?" Tiny sparks jumped from Jingles pipe as he drew heavily on it before answering Will. "S'pect so. Buck ain't too friendly when he don't get what he wants."

"Hey, Jingles. Did I hear my name?" Buck, in white shirt and string tie, appeared next to them with a cup of cider in his hand. He grinned his beautiful, charming, snaky grin. Will's hand itched to knock it off his handsome face. "Better not be talking about me, Jingles. I'll put a curse on your pancakes."

Will was fairly sure Buck hadn't heard much, but Jingles gave a nervous laugh, and said, "Heck, no, Buck. I was jest sayin' that you were the best school principal in three counties."

"Thank you, thank you. You're a good friend, Jingles." He patted the short man on his back, and held out the cup of cider to Will. "I noticed our guest hadn't been offered any of our famous cider, so I brought him a cup."

"He wouldn't take none of what I offered him," said Jingles, a small embarrassed smile rearranging his cheeks.

Buck winked at Will. "Well, now, Professor, this is not the aged cider that Jingles brews. This is your hostess, Eileen Rivers's, cider."

"Anything Eileen makes is superb," Will said. He accepted the cider, and masked his surprise and suspicion at this friendly gesture from Buck. "Thank you."

The banjo player, an elderly woman with a happy grin on her wrinkled face, plunked out some tentative notes, and the fiddler rosined his bow again. Some of the women practiced clogging, and other intricate patterns. Their stomping feet stirred up small clouds of chaff-filled dust from the planked floor.

"Gotta go," said Buck. "Addie's waiting. We're a great dancing team. I think you'll enjoy watching, Professor."

"I'm not going to watch. Thought I'd join in." He sipped the cider and relished the look of dismay on Buck's face.

"Fine, fine. Hope you can keep up." Buck nodded and waved a hand in farewell. "See you later."

Will's searching gaze found Addie again, in the corner now with a middle-aged man he recognized as the part-time handyman at the library.

Unable to speak, Donny Jim had only nodded to Will on the occasions they had encountered each other at the library. His utter devotion to Addie was sometimes painful, always sweet to observe. At the moment, she seemed to be spelling words into his palm with her finger, and Donny Jim nodded with understanding. The music tuned up fast and lively and Addie touched her friend's cheek and walked away. Will could see, even at this distance, the abject adoration in the man's eyes as he watched her join hands with Buck for the first dance. He wondered if such devotion was healthy, but ignored his leap of anxiety as the caller instructed the group to form their first position.

"Okay, ladies and gents," he announced, "we're doin' the Red River Valley."

He called for sets of three in a circle. One man in the middle of two women, arms linked. Buck had Addie on one arm and Eileen on the other.

"Hey, there, handsome," yelled Dixie to Will. "Jingles has deserted us for those cute Bedley sisters. Come and be our man."

Will smiled, deposited his cup of cider on an upended barrel, and linked up with Dixie on one arm and Addie's friend Lulu on the other.

The hoedown music, swinging sweet and rich, tilled the barn, and flowed out the barn doors into the night. The children in the loft clapped in rhythm, and the smiling caller issued his directions with benign authority.

"Hey, now you lead right down the valley," he called, tapping his foot to the rhythm, and the sets moved forward to meet a new set.

Will struggled with long forgotten patterns and steps for a time, but with concentration he eventually began to catch on and enjoyed the give and flow of the dance.

Addie's set would meet his soon.

"Circle to the left, then to the right."

The tempo speeded up and Will weaved in and out following the caller's instructions, bowing, and linking.

The air in the barn seemed warmer, and he began to perspire. In top physical shape from running, tennis, and swimming, he was surprised at the effect the dancing had on him. He caught a glimpse of Brad and Amy waving to him from the loft. He smiled back, but to his dismay found it difficult focusing his eyes on the laughing children.

Addie's blue dress flashed around and around in the crowd of swirling skirts. Her set approached. He would soon be right across from her.

"Now you swing with the gal in the valley."

Addie waited while Buck swung her mother, and took a quick glance around the circle to locate Will. Her teaming quickened.

Soon they would touch.

"And you swing with your Red River gal."

Buck swung her with expertise, and kissed her swiftly on the cheek before she passed on to the next set.

The fair-haired man, who hadn't taken his wintry eyes off her all evening, now stood next to her. Addie shuddered. She wondered if she should alert Lee Bert, Buck, or Will. Stop this, she told herself. You can't allow yourself to be afraid of every stranger you meet. He's probably someone's cousin, or a visiting friend.

"Circle to the left, then to the right." The stranger linked her arm in his and swung her. "How are things with you, Addie?" he asked.

She gave him a weak smile, but pretended to concentrate on the dance pattern and didn't answer. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Everything okay?" he asked intimately.

She shuddered and felt a rush of relief as he left her and swung her mother. A quick and anxious spot check for her protective knights, should she need someone, found Will's attention riveted on her; Buck, despite making an effort to be gracious to his dance partners, glared at her, and managed to watch every move she made, while Lee Bert talked animatedly with some farmers at the large barn door.

She could signal to any one of them, she thought, but reasoned that it wasn't necessary. If this stranger was the killer, he couldn't hurt her here in the midst of all these people. After this dance was over she would voice her concerns to one of them.

"Now the girls make a wheel in the valley." Addie joined hands with her mother, Dixie, and Lulu, and wheeled around and around until she landed in the arms of Will.

With his touch, the whole world righted, then tilted again. Safe with Will, she was now giddy with relief and excitement. The menace of the stranger dissolved into happiness at the sight and feel of Will. He linked her mother on one arm and Addie on the other.   

The warmth of his body heated her right side, and she sucked in the musky male scent of him, and the faint lemony aftershave he used. Wiry hair on his arms, and the side of her breast against the brawn of his upper arm bred a chain of reactions in her body that left her light-headed, and yearning for more of him.

Will gave her a reassuring, but lopsided smile, and whirled her around. It was her mother's turn. Addie stood patting her foot in time to the lively music, and tried to manage the exhilaration swirling through her.

Will lurched. Her mother laughed and caught his arm to steady him.

Had he been drinking beer as he sat on the porch with Henry Meredith, worried Addie, or had he been indulging himself with Jingles's ripe inebriating cider? Neither of those possibilities seemed likely, and the cider she'd poured for Buck to take to Will had been plain fresh apple juice variety. Though she knew Will possessed a wild and unconventional streak, she also knew he was too courtly and polite to get drunk and embarrass them.

Was he ill? No, he seemed fine now, laughing with her mother, having a good time. "And the boys do-sa-do so polite."

Will "do-sa-doed," then grabbed Addie for a final twirl before sending them off to the next set. He managed to bring her close enough to smooth a swift palm over her breast and place a soft kiss in her hair.

Flying with excitement, Addie had forgotten Buck, 1 but now caught a glimpse of him across the circle, frowning at her, and angry. Obviously he'd noticed the quick exchange of affection between her and Will. He cast her a malevolent look that shook her to her roots, and her happy excitement plummeted to the dusty floor to join the dancers' busy feet.

Buck had never, ever looked at her with anything but love and happiness. She hated being the cause of anyone's misery, and especially Buck's.

Face it, Addie. You've seen other things in Buck's eyes lately, things you've ignored or haven't been willing to acknowledge. You've seen ownership, and jealousy, and spite. You've seen condescending attitudes in the leaning, hovering stance of his body, and the swift jerk of his perfectly shaved chin.

"Now you lead on down the valley," sang out the caller.

The set changed again and the pattern was leading her back to the cold-eyed stranger's nosy questions, and then to Buck; whose expression had now turned to one of hurt and frustration.

The faster the music went, the faster Addie's thoughts swirled, like the twirling red, blue, and green skirts, like the spinning, smiling couples. Her thoughts and feelings flew high, then fell and whirled into confusion. She searched for Will. She caught a glimpse of Jingles playing in the loft with the children.

Something's wrong with Jingles being up there, she thought. Twirling fast now, she concentrated on keeping her balance, and tried not to place undue concern where there should be none.

She hadn't the time to figure it out, or think about Jingles and the children right now.

Will. If she could find him she would feel better. If she found Will everything would be all right.

It was then that Addie admitted to herself, with relief and exhilaration, that she loved Will Court, that she was irrevocably, romantically, and forever in love with Dr. William J. Court. She remembered the night she'd watched Will carry a dying Rags through the storm to his car, and how her heart had taken off like a firecracker giving brilliance to the bleak night. She relived that blinding joy now as she spotted him making his way, in a rather wobbly manner, over to the ladder leading to the loft.

Again she wondered if he was sick, or drunk, or just tired? He grabbed the ladder with determination and climbed quickly, as if he had a mission.

Worry about Will left as the stranger linked his arm in hers and hugged it close to his body. His perspiration-soaked shirt stuck to her arm, making it slick. She gritted her teeth, but promised herself that she would be cool. She would get through this with a polite smile. But butterflies boogied in her tummy while she smiled.

"Hi. I'm David Stowalsky," he said in a hushed voice dose to her ear. "Please meet me outside the barn after this set is over. I know you're having fun, but I have something to ask you before the next dance begins."

Addie tensed, but pretended she hadn't heard him. She kept smiling, curtsying, and swinging, and smiling, smiling, smiling. While the Stowalsky man swung her mother, Addie looked again for Will.

"Fire!"

Someone yelled "fire" again, and the dancing partners began to separate and look around. Smoke could be smelled now.

A perfect silence held the  crowd for a frozen moment.

Then shouts came from everywhere in the barn, and a flashing sheet of flames and roiling smoke erupted from the loft. Pandemonium broke loose.

Addie turned to look for her mother, and saw Eileen Rivers being led hurriedly out of the barn by the stranger. Her mother kept turning to look for her. Her eyes were wide with panic, and she tried to break loose from the man's grip, but he kept pushing her forward. Addie started after them, but lost sight of them as clouds of smoke enclosed her.

Her alarm at the first smell of smoke had now escalated into mounting terror at the sight of the flames and the fear on her mother's face.

Fighting terror with every ounce of courage she possessed, Addie ached to inhale deeply and calm herself, but knew she'd only be sucking in her death. The smoke had become so thick she could scarcely breathe at all. She fumbled for a tissue in the pocket of her skirt and held it over her mouth and nose.

The smoke had gathered so swiftly. The flames had flared so high and out of control in seconds.

Screaming children could be heard above the panicked din, and she remembered that Will had been heading up the ladder to the loft and the children.

She got on her hands and knees and crawled in the direction she thought the ladder was in, lowering her nose all the way to the floor where several inches of good air still remained. Coughing and gasping into her thin tissue, she began to wheeze and fight for air. The impenetrable smoke stung her nose. Excruciating pain seared her eyes. The ladder to the loft? Where is it? Waves of blackness washed back and forth through her. For long alarming moments lucidity fled with the darkness, then returned, only to be gone again.

This is foolish Addie. Look for the door. Get out. Will and Buck can take care of themselves. But where is the door? There are two of them, she thought. A little one, and the big loading door. Which direction? Which direction?

She was lost.

"Will?" She thought that's what she cried out, but her voice sounded like a whistle.

"Will?" she tried again.

He was gone.

No. Someone was nearby. The pitch-black smoke yielded for a second. Was that the form of someone at her side? The inky smoke closed in again. Choking, smothering, gasping for air, Addie lay flat on the floor and sniffed for air.

Gone. It was gone. No air left. No air.

A hand touched her. Oh, thank God. Someone to help.

Nauseous from the smoke, and dizzy from lack of air, she groped for the person, but the hands moved over her and found her neck. They tightened. Addie pulled to loosen the fingers, but they were too strong. She didn't understand. Pulling her to safety? This wasn't the way.

Didn't understand.

Suddenly she did understand.

This was the killer. This was the man who'd murdered Laurel, Janelle, and Jennifer. No-o-o-o. In spite of all the precautions, he'd gotten to her after all. She tried to scream for Will, for Buck, or Lee Bert. Anyone. But she knew it was too late. She was suffocating.

Grabbing, poking, tearing at the powerful fingers around her throat, Addie struggled for her life. She kicked, and heaved, and bucked, but brilliant red streaks burst across her brain, then black, then blue, then red again.

The scant air remaining in her heaving lungs would soon be gone, smothered by these lethal hands, by this man who hated her so. Why?

Too late.

I'm not ready. It's the wrong time.

Too late.

Amy Simples's thin arms squeezed his neck so tight that Will felt the sharp, fragile bones in her wrists and knees. The kitten she'd snatched up clung frantically to his shirt. The frenzied creature's claws dug into his chest, but the pain was unimportant, and was nothing compared to Will's fear. Ten-year-old Brad hung close behind them, his hand hooked rigidly around Will's belt. Brad carried a kitten, too. They hadn't time to search for the mother cat.

He thought they were almost to the loft door. Couldn't see it now, but he'd looked for it the minute he'd swept Amy into his arms. Please, God, keep me on a straight course.

He stumbled over an implement of some kind, probably a rake, he thought, as the handle flew up and thumped him on the knee. He grunted and righted himself, hoping he still headed in the right direction.

His head ached from the spiked cider, but fear of the fire had cleared his brain of everything but the will to survive.

He tried to give a word of encouragement to the children, but the dense smoke smothered any attempt at breathing, much less talking. They would be damned lucky if they made it to the loft door unharmed.

Thank God there was little breeze. What wind there was blew to the east of them through the window on the far side of the loft, fanning the flames to the rear of their path. The fire behind them leaped high, dropping huge dumps of fireball into the barn below.

Will refused to think of the people down there. He couldn't. Thinking of Addie caught in that flaming inferno would have rendered him useless. He was fairly sure most of the dancers got out before the fire grew vicious. As he'd scooped Amy into his arms, and given Brad and Jingles instructions, he'd seen the crowd below run for the doors.

Behind him, Jingles, ashamed and sober now, struggled in the same manner Will did. He carried one child, and another was hooked onto his belt.

Jingles was the reason Will had climbed to the hayloft.

Sick to his stomach and dizzy, Will had excused himself from dancing, and found a cool place to sit. The bale of bound hay against the barn post had been perfect. He'd had flu shots, and he'd eaten nothing that disagreed with him, and had not indulged in anything alcoholic. So why did he feel like he'd consumed five martinis?

Had Buck put something in the cider he'd given Will? If I had finished the whole cup, I would be falling down drunk. Could Buck have done such a stupid thing out of jealousy, or a desire to make him look bad in front of Addie? It was something a high school kid would do, immature and spiteful.

Will was trying to reason out that startling thought when he'd noticed Jingles sitting in the loft with the children. Laughing, and dancing a jig with the kids inside their fort, Jingles kept puffing on his pipe, while sparks from the pipe jumped into the dry straw all around the merry group.

Will had yelled to Jingles, but the music was too loud.

He'd made his way through the dancers and begun to climb the ladder when he heard a child voice the first alarm. He hadn't been too worried at first. Sometimes a small hay fire can be stomped out quickly, but something else stored in the barn must have ignited because the flames grew out of control in no time.

Will figured the old furniture and stored burlap bags filled with feed had caught and added to the inferno. Like a ravenous beast, the fire ate at the barn, and everything in the barn, in starving gulps. Hungry for the air it needed to live, the fire swallowed everything in its path.

The roar of the fire swept closer. A barn owl zipped by his head, followed by three smaller ones. The frenzied flapping of their wings sent brief, whishing, welcome puffs of motion across his perspiring head.

The tempo of Amy's frightened breathing against his neck increased. The seven-year-old panted like a tiny caged animal.

Almost there, Amy. Almost there. The smoke cleared and the loft door, a blessed open rectangle of star-studded indigo sky, presented itself right in front of him. With enormous relief he lowered Amy to the floor, and looked down. A babble of voices traveled up from below. A shout rang out.

"There they are," yelled someone. "Harry, swing that pulley closer."

Enormous relief swept through Will as he realized the children could be lowered with the pulley. Everyone would reach the ground, and safely, relatively unharmed. Brad, Jingles, and the other two children crowded around him as he knelt on the edge and scanned the crowd below.

Where was Addie? He couldn't find her. He spotted Eileen Rivers. The abject horror in her eyes could be seen at this distance, and he knew immediately that Addie hadn't gotten out.

Hanging on for dear life, Amy and Brad were lowered on the pulley, and Will turned to speak to Jingles.

"You make sure the other kids get down safely. I'm going back for Addie."

"You ain't doin' no such thing. There ain't nothin' left. We're damned lucky we made it, Professor. The fire's eatin' at our ass right now."

The ferocious heat of the flames seared his face as he looked behind him. The stench of singed hair on his arm stung his nostrils, as his heart shook with terror.

Jingles was right. The barn, and everything in it, was gone.

6

White. White. Everything that had been red, black, blue and yellow had turned white. A misty, magic, soothing white. She had traveled to another land, another world, or dimension. Someplace with lovely fairies flowing in the air, and airy emerald trees, and blissful faces. Nice there. Happy there.

She wanted to return to that peaceful, carefree place. She struggled against the strong arms that held her. Someone gripped her so tight to his chest that his ribs dug roughly into her cheek. His jarring stride ignited every sensitive nerve ending in her drained body.

Her throat was on fire. So sore. So sore. And she smelled bad. Burned hair. Oh, God, was her hair all gone? She tried to open her eyes, but they were swollen shut.

Whoever you are, just let go of me. Let me go. I hurt everywhere. I can't breathe. Let me go.

With horror, she remembered now the fire, and the man strangling her.

Oh, dear God, the killer hasn't finished. We're out of the barn. He's taking me where no one will ever find me. He’ll rape me like he did the others.

She struggled, tried to kick, tried to bite, but she was too tired. Exhausted.

Everything went black again.

7

A thousand stampeding horses stomped across her chest, their hot hooves striking sparks through her entire exhausted body. So dry, so hurting. Addie's burning lungs heaved for air, and her throat felt like summer roof tar.

Somewhere there were voices. A coughing spasm wracked her body until the bed shook, forcing Addie's swollen eyes open. Everything appeared blurry and fuzzy. But the ruffled, pink lace canopy over her head looked nothing like the enchanted place she'd visited when she'd passed out in the barn, so she knew she had returned to the land of the living. Mrs. Simples's fussy lace canopy was a welcome sight.

Dr. Hamilton, Blue Spring's one practicing physician, stood on one side of the bed next to her mother, and Donny Jim hovered at the other like a protecting, avenging angel with singed eyebrows and hair. His nut-brown eyes held a hard, "dare me" expression, as he searched continually around the bedroom. She followed his gaze.

The Simples family gathered anxiously in a corner. Next to them stood a grimy, red-faced Buck, who glared at Donny Jim. Will leaned against the wall at the end of her bed staring at her as if he wanted to make sure she wouldn't disappear.

Lee Bert stood wide-legged in the doorway, trying to look official and important, his arms folded across his chest. Looking over his shoulder were Jingles, Dixie, and other concerned faces.

She squeezed her mother's hand, and said, "I'm fine, Mom." Her voice sounded like a foghorn, and each word sliced her throat like a paring knife. "A little worse for wear, but fine."

Tears flowed down her mother's cheeks. "Oh, Addie, we've been so worried. An ambulance is on the way."

Buck made a move toward her, but Donny Jim lifted his arm like a traffic cop, and made a violent halting gesture with his hand.

"Now listen here, Doc Hamilton," said Buck, "I'm not going to let that... that... that retard keep me from Addie's bedside. You tell him that I would never hurt my Addie."

Doctor Hamilton sighed. "Sorry, Buck, but there's no way he's going to let you near her. Somehow, Addie and I will convince him that you won't harm her. In the meantime, relax. You can be with her at the hospital."

"What's going on, Doc?" croaked Addie, pressing her hand to her throat in an attempt to alleviate the pain.

She felt then the bruises and scratches on her neck. The terrifying confrontation in the barn with the stranger rushed back to grip her with such horror that every muscle in her body tightened like a bowstring, and her jaws clamped like a vise.

"Donny Jim saved your life, Addie. Evidently he carried you through the door on the far side of the barn. We found the two of you under the big oak tree. He wouldn't let us near you, but he was trying to tell us why. He kept putting his hands around his throat as if he were being choked, and he made awful faces, and groped at us like he might imagine a monster would."

A sob, like a bullfrog's nighttime lament, rasped through Addie's raw throat.

''What was he trying to tell us?" her mother asked. Addie closed her eyes for a second, dredging up strength to tell them about the terrifying moments in the smoke-filled barn, then opened them.

"At first, I thought someone was trying to help me find my way out through the smoke, but they weren't. They tried to kill me, tried to strangle me." Trembling with emotion, her tortured voice broke and she couldn't go on.

Will moved toward her, but Donny Jim blocked his way.

Will raised his hands, and looked as if he wanted to shove the big mute away from him, but thought better of it. He restrained himself and leaned back against the wall.

Covered with soot, Will looked like a chimney sweep. Bloody streaks outlined rips in his shirt, and the skin on his arms had turned bright pink. His worried gaze examined her over and over again, starting at her head and following every curve, convex, and concave part of her all the way to her toes. All Addie wanted to do was stare right back at him, gobble him up with her eyes, invite him to crawl into bed with her so they could comfort each other.

"Did you see who attacked you?" asked a bristling Buck. "Who was it? It was probably Donny Jim. How do we know he's telling the truth? He tried to strangle you and then got scared that he might die in the fire, too, so he brought you out."

"Are you all right? Did he do anything besides choke you?" asked Will.

They all spoke at once.

"Can you remember anything, Addie?" asked Lee Bert. "You know, did he smell of anything, like cologne, maybe, or did he have a mole on his nose?"

Addie felt a nervous laugh trying to bubble up at Lee Bert's denseness, but it died swiftly. "Lee Bert, I couldn't smell anything but smoke, or feel anything but heat, and I sure couldn't see any moles on his face. I'm sure it wasn't Donny Jim, Buck."

"Well, who do you think it might have been, Addie, dear?" asked Buck.

"I think it was the stranger. He was a stranger to me, anyway. He asked me some odd questions while we were dancing. I think he said his name was Stowalsky. David Stowalsky."

"No, Addie, he wouldn't hurt you. Agent Stowalsky is with the FBI," said Lee Bert. "He was here to investigate, and to protect you. He's outside right now interrogating everyone who came to the hoedown."

Addie knew she had to make an effort to defuse the obviously tense standoff among her friends in the bedroom. She garnered any shreds of remaining stamina, and tried to smile. Her tense jaws ached with the effort, but she smiled at Buck, who still frowned in the corner, then motioned to Donny Jim to come close. Using every means of communication they had developed between them, she told the man that no one here would hurt her, and that he must let them come near.

He finally nodded an assent, but refused to leave her side as they loaded her into the ambulance. He rode to the hospital with her and Buck.

Will and Jingles, with burns on their arms and back, were in a following ambulance. Because of the quick thinking of Will, the children had emerged relatively unscathed.

8

ADDIE worked contentedly in the hushed library, relieved to be back at work after a week of recuperating from the physical and emotional trauma of the fire. She was alone, but she welcomed the solitude. People had been hovering around her for days like worker bees around the queen.

It was late, ten o'clock, but she had so much to catch up on.

A sound behind her startled her, and she twirled the swiveled chair around.

"Oh, Donny Jim! Lee Bert said you would be here tonight, and I forgot. Great. That makes me happy. I know I'm safe with you here."

Knowing her words fell on useless ears, Addie grinned as big as she could to convey her pleasure. Her signing skills were limited, but she tried a few words, then drew letters on the palm of his beefy hand. The two of them had worked out ways of communicating.

His soft brown eyes warmed with joy, and he nodded his head so vigorously his cheeks reddened.

"You don't have to stay right here beside me tonight," she explained to him. "I'll be fine. You dust the shelves."

He nodded and moved off down an aisle, glancing over his shoulder to check on her as he went, then finally disappeared.

The phone rang, and she sighed, running her hands through her new short haircut in frustration. It had to be either Buck or Will calling. Both of them kept such close tabs on her they were driving her crazy. Every night she said a prayer asking God to please help law enforcement find the man who had attacked her in the barn.

When she thought of the nightmare moments in the smoke her body iced with fear so real that she shook with chills. She avoided recalling the memory at all costs. Quickly, she snatched up the phone, eager to talk to the caller and forget her memories.

"Hi, beautiful librarian of my heart. Are you okay there?"

"I'm just fine, Will. Really, I am. Donny Jim is here, and Lee Bert is right outside on the bench."

"Too bad the FBI guy had an emergency. If I know Lee Bert, he's reading a comic book, or he's fallen asleep."

Addie laughed. "He takes his job very seriously, Will. This is the biggest thing that's ever happened to him."

"I know, beautiful, but I won't feel right until you get home. I'm surprised Buck isn't hovering over you," he said with a touch of sarcasm.

“He called earlier, and wanted to come and stay with me, but I told him the same thing I just told you."

There was a short silence. "I see."

"How are you feeling?" she asked him.

Confined to bed until this afternoon, with his arms wrapped in gauze, Will was getting restless.

"I'm doing great. Rags is right here next to me, and the Simples children visited again. They brought the kittens with them, and told me they sleep with them every night just to make sure they're safe. The best news came from Dr. Hamilton, who called to tell me my lungs are clear, and that I could remove the gauze on my arms. So I did, with your mom's help, and they don't look bad at all. Just have to keep salve on my arms for a few more days. Come home, Addie, or I'm coming to get you myself."

"You're supposed to be resting, regaining strength. Dr. Hamilton said you're lucky your lungs weren't permanently damaged."

"There's no way in hell I'm getting back in that bed."

"Okay," she sighed. "Just another thirty minutes, Will. I promise. Don't come. Lee Bert will bring me home in the cruiser."

He laughed. "I think you like riding in that cruiser."

"Yeah. Especially when he turns on the flashing red lights. I feel like arriving royalty."

They laughed.

Will said, "Come home, princess."

"See you soon," she said, and hung up.

The pile of work on her desk soon absorbed her. Fear was shoved away until only distant edges framed her, and the tug of war between Will and Buck was forgotten for a while. Time slipped away as she studied new children's books being offered for selection next year. The town council had told her they had a lean budget for the coming year, so she had to be judicious in what she ordered.

A plaintive meow registered in her consciousness, and she wondered briefly about Coffee. He'd deserted his post at her feet. She continued working. Another meow. She raised her head and listened. The swish of something slipping across the floor came from the history section to the rear.

Odd, she thought. Haven't I heard that sound before? Oh, sure, it's Donny Jim. He's usually so quiet, though. In fact, Donny Jim moved so silently that he often appeared almost magically. Kind of spooky, sometimes, she thought.

She went back to her work, but she'd lost her focus. Concentrating had become a chore. At the sound of Coffee meowing again somewhere in the library, she dropped her pencil and stood up. It sounded as if the cat needed help, and she remembered the day she'd found him locked in the cellar.

"Darn cat. I'll bet he's in the cellar again." It was a mystery to her how the cat got in there. "Maybe Donny Jim let him in there accidentally."

She started to call out for the quiet man, but then felt foolish. They communicated so well that she often forgot Donny Jim was deaf and mute. He couldn't hear Coffee's meowing distress calls. She would have to look for the cat herself.

The heels of her loafers clicking on the hardwood floor echoed hollowly in the silent library. She passed through Non-fiction, patting a book into place here and there as she went, and arrived in History. Visibility was limited here at night. They had tried all kinds of different lighting solutions, but the area was windowless, high-ceilinged, and difficult to light. An antique Tiffany lamp, casting a weak amber glow, sat on one table.

Surprised that she hadn't caught a glimpse of Donny Jim, she glanced down each aisle as she traversed the sea leading to the cellar door.

Coffee's worried wail came again.

Addie stopped dead in her tracks. Something wasn't right. Her skin crawled with the sensation. She felt it in her bones.

A sudden chill raised the fine hair on the nape of her neck, and goosebumps prickled her arms.

No. This is absurd. Donny Jim is here somewhere. He watches me like a hawk. And Lee Bert is outside. No one could have come in.

Her heart flew a rapid rat-tat-tat, thundering so hard in her ears that she could hardly hear. She grabbed hold of a nearby shelf, drew a deep breath, and released it slowly.

Yes, they could, Addie. Someone could sneak behind the bench Lee Bert's sitting on, and go around back to the old cellar door. Wouldn't take much to pry up the rotted boards.

Imagination, Addie, imagination.

She took a few steps, wishing she could find Donny Jim. He couldn't hear her, so she would have to search the library. A fine mist of sweat broke out on her forehead, and her armpits were dripping. Her chest itched where her wool sweater stuck damply to her ribs.

Suddenly, she knew she didn't have time to look for him. She had to leave the library. Now!

Coffee cried again.

She couldn't leave the poor cat locked up.

Running the last few steps to the cellar door, she yanked it open.

Coffee yowled, and leaped out straight into Addie's arms, followed by the dank cellar odor. The weight of him threw her off-balance, and she sat heavily on the floor, square on her butt.

"Ouch, cat."

The shock of it, and the heavy bundle of cat fur in her lap, kept her sitting on the floor, dulling her immediate panic to get out of the library.

Coffee purred softly, and un-catlike nuzzled beneath her armpit. He acted as if he'd been scared to death.

"What's the matter, you big scaredy-cat?"

Her voice echoing in the silence renewed her sense that something was terribly wrong here in the once friendly library, that something evil was close enough to touch. Coffee dug his claws into her shoulder and let out an unearthly howl.

Addie shivered violently, and spilling Coffee out of her lap, tried to get to her feet. But her knees were shaky, and she kept her eyes glued to the floor. She had diligently avoided looking through the yawning door into the dark dankness of the cellar stairwell. But now she was dreadfully drawn there. As if lured by things unimaginable, her gaze, on a level now with the stairwell landing, riveted on the object she'd pretended wasn't there since she'd first yanked the door open.

A foot, twisted at a grotesque angle, lay on the landing.

The foot wore a large, dusty brogan. Donny Jim’s shoes looked like that. Rising slowly, straightening to stand erect, Addie knew fear like she'd never known before. It choked her until her stomach churned, and she felt sick.

The foot belonged to Donny Jim. She knew that. And she couldn't run away and leave him there. Her feeling of aloneness enhanced ten-fold. Even Coffee had deserted her, leaping off like lightning into the safety of the brightly lit area around her desk.

With buckling knees almost dropping her to the floor, and with teeth clamped until her jaws ached, Addie bullied herself forward to the yawning cellar door.

She stepped onto the landing, grasped the stair handrail for support, and knelt to investigate.

Donny Jim's bulky body, twisted, still, and facedown, sprawled down the steps into the blackness. His broad shoulders rested solidly on a step, but his head had disappeared into the descending darkness. She couldn't tell whether he was breathing or not.

You'll have to go down there, Addie. You'll have to walk down those stairs and see what the situation is.

She fumbled for the light switch next to the door, but the old-fashioned twist knob was loose, as if someone had removed and not replaced it properly. Cautiously, placing one foot after the other, she lowered herself deeper into the darkness. Finally, breathless, stomach twisting and catching, she reached Donny Jim's head and knelt to investigate.

With a death grip on the stair railing, she ran her other hand over her big friend's burly shoulders, and then up the back of his neck. The warm, sticky residue that came off on her hand wasn't difficult to identify. Forcing herself to continue the inspection, she felt the back of his head and encountered more blood and a wound of major proportions.

Donny Jim's head had been bashed in with a weapon wielded by a powerful hand. The opening was soft and malleable. Pieces of splintered bone were mixed with a squashy substance she couldn't identify. Pus, or brains? She gagged, and jerked her hand away.

"Addie?"

She screamed, and stumbled down the step behind her. Only her tight grip on the rail kept her from falling the rest of the way down onto the cellar floor.

Someone stood in the cellar doorway blocking the light from the library.

"Addie? What are you doing down there? "What did you find?"

"Oh, thank God. It's you, Buck."

Giddy with waves of relief, she sat heavily on the step next to Donny Jim's inert head. She closed her eyes, and let her head sink back to rest against the wall behind her.

"What's the matter?” he asked.

The voice that whished out of her sounded like a tin whistle.

"Oh, God, Buck. Get Lee Bert, and call 911. Donny Jim has a hideous wound on his head. I can't tell if he's breathing."

The old wooden steps creaked as he slowly made his way down to her, and she wondered why he hadn't rushed to the phone to call the ambulance.

"Buck. Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Run, quick, call for help."

"I'm not worried about you, Addie."

His feet were on the step right above her. She crooked her neck so she could look up into his face. But Buck was so tall; his head vanished into the gloom of the stairwell.

"The lights aren't working. We need a flashlight. I can't see a thing now with you blocking the light."

"We'll be fine. I repaired the switch just now, but we aren't going to need illumination. I've got eyes like a cat. Besides, I know my way around the cellar by heart, and I've rigged the lights so they will behave as I want them.''

"This is ridiculous." She stretched her hand up to him for assistance. "Help me up. We'll go get Lee Bert."

But he didn't take her hand. What was wrong with him?

Her hand fell on his shoe as she braced to stand up. Buck's shoe seemed supple and soft, like felt. It wasn't a shoe. It was a slipper. Buck wore slippers. How odd.

Buck is so impeccable. Always. Neat. Never a hair out of place. Shoes always cleaned and polished. Always a suit to church, jeans at a picnic. Why is he wearing his slippers?

The notion that he would wear slippers out in public was as mind-boggling as this devastating bloody scene with Donny Jim. Maybe she was losing it. Maybe this was another nightmare.

"I know it isn't important right now, Buck, but why are you wearing slippers?" She started to laugh, but the laugh came out a nervous giggle.

"Slippers made it easier to move around without your knowing I was in the library, dear Addie. So you wouldn't catch me watching you. You almost caught me though, the night I followed you home jogging. I never made that mistake again."

His answer came from way above her, and it seemed some disembodied voice out of the blackness. Dizzy now with the lurid unreality of the past fifteen minutes, Addie shook her head to clear it. What did he mean? Buck sounded like a different person, a stranger.

"What are you talking about?" She stretched her hand up toward him. "Here. Help me up, and go turn on the lights."

"Sure, I'll help you up, but we don't need lights. I want you to enjoy the same mystical experience your friends did. Besides, there are two small ground-level windows that reveal light to the street, and we don't want anyone to know where we are." He took her hand. "And we're going down the stairs, Addie, dear, not up."

Impatient now with his strange behavior, Addie jerked her hand from his, grabbed the railing, and pulled herself clumsily erect. On the way up her knee slid like slippery soap across Donny Jim's bloody forehead. She gagged, and her hand flew to her mouth. Too late, she realized her hand was smeared with blood, and she felt the wet imprint of her fingers across her mouth and cheek. She retched again.

"Really, Addie. I had no idea you had such a delicate tummy."

Donny Jim groaned and she bent toward him, but Buck grabbed her shoulder and yanked her erect.

"Leave him. He's close to death. Don't prolong his misery. Here, hold my list for me." He handed her a pad of paper, and gave her a little push. "Go down into the cellar, Addie."

"What's your list for, Buck?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light with inquiry.

"Notations, Addie, of people, places, and things. Happenings. Things I don't like and need to correct. Reminders of who needs watching and who upsets me. Like your Will, for instance."

She couldn't see the color of the pad she held in her hand, but she knew it was blue.

It dropped from her fingers, and made a light fluttering noise when it hit the concrete floor below.

Buck gave her another shove. "Move, Addie. I can carry you down or you can move on your own."

Fear cut through her, sharp and cold. This wasn't the Buck she knew. He wasn't teasing her. This wasn't a game. Like a stroke of lightning, the knowledge came, lucid and quick and sure.

Buck meant to kill her.

She had no time to wonder why, or to reason what had changed him, or to mourn their past. She only had time to think of the next minute. Only time to save herself.

"Why are we going to the cellar, Buck?" she asked, trying to sound as normal as possible. "We really should -get some help."

"Move below, I want to show you something," he ordered, his voice cold and unemotional.

Yes, Buck seemed strangely unemotional as if he'd left himself behind somewhere, maybe up in the light by her desk, or maybe in his easy chair at home, or maybe in his office at the school.

Stupid. Get it together, Addie. It's not important now.

"Okay, Buck. Sounds like fun." She would humor him. I've only been down here twice. Once when I first came to work at the library, and once last winter when I couldn't find Coffee. You know I hate the cellar, but we're playing a game, I guess."

He gave her another shove and she stumbled down two more steps. The clamminess she dreaded began to close around her. The clammy odor, which warned of molding cement, rat feces, and spider webs, stung her sinuses, and clung to her skin like moist sealing tape.

Her foot touched the basement floor and she shuddered.

"No games, Addie. Don't fool yourself any longer. We're not down here for games. I told Lee Bert that I was here to pick you up, and that he could go on home. The bumpkin yawned, and took off. So don't count on him rescuing you. He's home asleep by now. After you've made your transition, I will run out of the library for help, horrified and distraught at finding you dead in the basement." He gave a small laugh, more like a bitter bark. "Same way I pretended to find Joe that night of the storm. No one ever suspects me, so when I approached Joe that night he was happy to see me, just as you were tonight."

"You killed Joe?" Addie whispered, weak with horror.

"Yes, and unfortunately I had to give Rags a good beating in the process. When I blasted Joe over the head with my car jack, Rags attacked me."

"But why, oh, my God, why?"

"The same reason I killed your friends, Addie. They took you away from me. You never had time for me anymore."

"That's not true, Buck."

"Yes, you were growing away from me. You didn't realize it, but I did. In college we were together all the time. I thought that was the way it would always be. But when we came back to Blue Springs you began to live a life of your own, which didn't include me."

"That's not true, Buck. We do lots of things together."

"No, Addie. Not the way we used to. You spent more time with Laurel than you did me. I thought maybe you would need me more after she died. But you're so independent, you just kept on attending your book group, sometimes even going out afterward for a drink and never even thinking of me. And you went to Marysville twice to go to the movies with Janelle."

Her mind raced with precautions, escape routes, and the wisest way to gain control of the situation, while her head ached, and her midsection felt like someone had tied it in a knot. She took a step back toward the bottom stair, but slipped on the moldering, moss-covered floor, and Buck grabbed her elbow with crushing fingers.

"Whoops. I better be careful," she said, attempting a lighthearted tone through the pain. Maybe talk some sense into him, bring him back into the real world where rational people didn't kill because they were jealous or lonely. "Come on, Buck, this is silly. We're getting married, remember? Let's go upstairs and talk about this."

She couldn't see the smirk on his face in the pitch-black dank air, but she could hear it in his voice. "Don't try to charm me, little Addie. I know you too well. I carried your backpack for you in tenth grade. Remember? I was the new boy in school, and you befriended me."

"Yes, I remember."

"Joe didn't like it one bit," he said, grim satisfaction in his voice.

"Why would you want to hurt an old friend?" Panic flirted around the edges of her sanity now, and scampering, fluttering, in her chest and stomach. Her heartbeat had ratcheted up until she jerked for breath, almost belching with the effort.

Get it together, Addle.

"Don't worry, this won't hurt too much, and you're going to be much happier where you're going. Come with me."

He shoved her by the elbow, which he continued to clench with a brutal invasive hold, his fingers separating bone, muscle, and tendon. Addie bit her lip against the pain, which skated across screaming nerve endings up into her shoulder and neck.

They moved deeper into mysterious regions of the cellar where Addie had never ventured. She was lost here. This was not her venue, not her territory. Should she just humor him until she saw an opportunity to escape? How could she get away from him, trick him, seduce him, how could she do anything to save herself if she couldn't orient herself?

She began to resist him, pulling back, trying to slow their progress.

"Come, come. Don't think you're going to save yourself by balking on me. There's a box of coal here, Addie, dear. Step around it."

Coal? Then there should be a furnace somewhere.

"You seem to know your way around the cellar very well."

"Yep. You know me. I research everything painstakingly. I wanted to keep an eye on you after I killed Laurel, so I broke into the cellar one Sunday when you weren't here. Now I don't need any light. I've been here so often that I know this place like the back of my hand."

She shuddered. He jerked her so close his breath warmed her nose. Then he bruised her mouth with a hard cruel kiss. "Don't shiver like I'm repulsive, Addie. I'm not a monster. I'm simply a man who makes sure the world runs in rhythm. You have been out of rhythm. Things aren't neat anymore. We were meant to be together and you ruined it all, you made everything messy."

"Buck, you just need time to think things out. We'll be good together, you and me."

"No. I realized the night I peeked through the window and saw you roasting marshmallows with Joe that this might have to happen. I thought he was dead when I left him in the barn, and I - I thought that would be the end of your feelings for other men. By the way, Joe died a natural death in the hospital. If he hadn't, I would have finished him off. Fortunately Mother Nature finished what I started. Stop hanging back."

He pushed her harder, using both hands now to propel her forward - to what, she worried.

Upstairs the telephone rang four times, and the answering machine clicked on. She heard her voice say, "You have reached Blue Springs Library. I'm away from my desk for the moment. Leave a message."

The sound of her own voice floating eerily over her head sent a chill to her heart, and reinforced the killing knowledge that she was alone with an insane murderer.

"I switched on the answering machine before I came to the cellar door. Earlier I heard you tell Will that you would be home in about a half an hour. If he calls he'll think you're on your way home with Lee Bert."

The panic was returning. Calm down. Calm down. Delay him.

"Was that you in the barn at the hoedown, Buck?"

"Yes, sorry about that, but I had to leave you because I was choking, too. It never entered my mind that retard would save you. I figured you would die in there. Everybody would feel sorry for me, and all my problems would be solved."

"Buck, you couldn't hate me this much."

"I love you more than anything. But you did yourself in, Addie, when you started flirting with Will Court. Then when you told me with your own mouth that you had a crush on him, I knew I had to kill you."

"Killing me won't help anything, Buck. Eventually they will figure it all out, and then you'll go to prison, and probably be sentenced to death. Let's think this thing over. Come on, we've always been good at figuring things out together."

He laughed, and the cold, mirthless sound ran a chill up her spine.

"No more, Addie. This isn't a jigsaw puzzle, or a logic question. That's all over."

The air around them seemed to change, as it does when objects fill a vacuum and change the dynamics. She sensed a large black shape in front of them, and raised her free arm to grope in front of her.

Buck wrenched her forward. "It's the furnace, Addie. Sixty years ago, this big daddy would have been roaring with fire this time of year. Too bad the city council put in oil and wall heat. It would have been a handy way to get rid of Janelle."

A furnace. Coal. A poker, maybe there's a poker somewhere, or a shovel? Did he say Janelle?

"You brought Janelle down here?"

"No more questions. I can't be in the library too long. They'll suspect me."

His hands dug cruelly into her shoulders, and he shoved her again, leaving the furnace behind.

"Here we are. Step in to my parlor, Addie. You'll find company here."

Her groping hands found a decaying wooden wall, and an opening. A small cubby of a room probably used for coal storage. Every instinct she possessed warned her not to enter the cold, black space, which smelled of sickening evils.

She jabbed her foot backward to kick at him, and connected with his shin. He grunted and let go of one shoulder. She yanked lose from his other hand, and swung madly about to dash around him. He caught her on her second leap, to jerk her so swift and hard that she landed in a distorted heap on the floor. When she put her hand out to push away from him, she slipped flat on her stomach until her cheek smacked the floor and slid across the ancient slimy mold. A moan rolled from her, and weak tears finally came.

"Don't try that again, or I'll make this worse than I'd planned," he whispered, his voice hissing with venom. "I hadn't planned to make you suffer like the others, but if you disobey me again you'll be sorry, little Addie."

He yanked her up from the floor, and shoved her through the opening of the small room, which she knew would be her burial place.

"Now you'll see how nice I've been. You won't be lonely on your way out of this world," said Buck softly. "I'm going to tie your wrists and ankles so you won't get any more escape notions. Then we'll have a good time, you and me, here in the dark. We've never kissed in a coal cellar before. Sit down here next to Janelle."

As he pushed down on her shoulders, she stumbled over sticks and soft things, that felt like bones and clothes, and . . . oh, God, it's Janelle, or what's left of Janelle.

Her scream exploded from her toes. It ripped and burned up through her body, and came out a shrieking, unearthly screech. It filled the small ghoulish room, and rang and rang throughout the cellar. It reverberated around and around and around her. All control and rational thought had fled. Buck shook her until her head bounced back and forth like a loose jack-in-the-box, but the scream wouldn't stop coming. Loud enough to wake the dead, maybe it would wake Janelle.

Yes, wake up, Janelle. Help me. Somebody help me.

"I should have silenced you right away, but I wanted you to talk to me," he whined. "You never talk to me anymore."

He slapped her so hard he busted her lip, and blood sprayed like a fountain and ran down her chin and onto her sweater. She grabbed his hand with her teeth and bit down until she hit bone.

Buck yelled, jerked his hand away and socked her with his fist. The pain was excruciating as her teeth cracked together, and bits of enamel spewed onto her tongue. She barreled through the pain, and shoved and kicked at him, pummeling him with jabs to his stomach, and she never stopped screaming.

Oh, God, please, someone hear me!

Her throat ached with the screaming.

Buck worked to catch hold of her whirling hands and jabbing feet, and finally caught one arm in a fast grip. He punched her in the stomach. The screaming stopped, and the cellar seemed eerily still as the wind whooshed out of her, and she collapsed like a rag doll over his arm. Never letting up on his death grip, Buck yanked a handkerchief from his pocket, stuffed it into her gasping mouth, and lowered her to the floor next to Janelle.

A fold of cotton skirt fluttered onto her thigh as she was settled close beside the corpse - Janelle's skirt, probably the full red circle that she loved to wear in the summertime. Addie gagged, and fought to draw air back into her lungs, and energy back into her legs. The cloth filling her mouth made it almost impossible to breathe. Oh, God, why doesn't he just kill me? Why doesn't he get it over with? Is he going to rape me first?

Don't give up. Fight him until the last.

He grunted as he sat astride her hips, and leaned forward to place kisses around her face, and whisper softly in her ear.

"You'll like this, Addie." His hands fastened around her throat, as he kept kissing her. "There's nothing as exquisite as a climax at the moment of death. Trust me, I know."

A grim voice cut through the darkness, "Let her go, Buck. I've got a twelve gauge aimed straight at you, and Lee Bert is right behind me."

Addie's heart flew with excitement. Will. It was Will. Buck's hands tightened on her throat, and he moaned.

"Hit the lights, Jingles," yelled Lee Bert.

Light flooded the cellar. Dim light, but to Addie it was light from heaven.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, Buck's beastly face hovered over her, his mouth twisted with hatred, his eyes mad with jealousy. He seemed to be in a world not of theirs, and ignorant of the presence of Will and Lee Bert. Limp now, and passing out, she felt his weight yanked off her.

Will gently pulled the handkerchief from her mouth and lifted her in his arms. She had only enough strength left to place her hand on his chest near his throat. His muscles worked as he swallowed, as if he were struggling not to cry, and she felt her own tears roll helplessly down her cheeks.

Lee Bert seemed to be tussling with Buck, and as she closed her eyes with relief she heard Jingles arriving.

"You forgot, Buck, my boy, this wee town is mighty quiet after ten o'clock, and I'm baking bread at the diner," crowed Jingles. "At first, I thought it was a cat wailing, but soon changed my mind."

"I don't want to look at Janelle," whispered Addie, her eyes still dosed. "I don't want to see any of this. I don't want to see Buck."

"You don't have to, sweetheart. I'm taking you out of here right now." Will held her close to his chest and walked away from the little chamber of horrors.

As they gingerly skirted Donny Jim's lifeless body on the stairs, she squeezed her eyes so tight they hurt.

"How did you know? What made you come?" she managed to get out as they entered the fresh air and bright lights of the library.

Holding her tight and secure, he carried her through the library and outside to sit on the bench by the square. Her nose tucked into the curve of his neck and shoulder, her breath warming her face, his mouth on her hair. Murmuring sweet nothings, Addie's world began to right itself. When she finally felt safe enough to open her eyes, she saw the big cardboard Thanksgiving turkey Mertie always put in the flower store window, and she saw the blue and yellow neon lights flicking over the diner. dixie's diner, the best food in town.

Will kept smoothing her hair, and kissing her forehead as he talked.

"Lee Bert told me once that he was stubborn, and he sore proved it tonight. After Buck told him to go on home because he would take you to the farm, Lee Bert did a dutiful drive around the county to check out the rest of his domain, as he always does, he told me. As he passed the farm, he decided to visit and say goodnight, make sure everything was okay with us." He laughed. "The FBI guy had laid an extra load of responsibility on him, and he was taking it super seriously.

"Anyway, Lee Bert told me his story, and we figured you and Buck should have been home by then. About that time, Jingles called and said he thought he heard screaming coming from the library and he was going to go check it out. Lee Bert and I jumped into the car and made it here in five minutes. Jingles was waiting for us at the top of the cellar steps. It was dark, and he had no weapon. Lee Bert was familiar with the layout because he used to read meters down there. So we felt our way down, passing poor Donny Jim on the way. We tried to come quietly, but it didn't seem to matter because you were fighting Buck so hard he wasn't listening for anything."

"I don't think he was expecting interference. He was awfully sure of himself." She snuggled closer. He tucked her inside of his big jacket, and she breathed in the warm, sweet maleness of Will. "Oh, Will, poor Buck. He's insane, isn't he?"

"Yes, darling."

"We'll talk about it later." She was tired. So tired.

He kissed her ear. "Addie, I love you."

"Will, are the winters really cold in New Haven?"

"Pretty cold." She heard his amusement. "But we'll have glorious summers in Blue Springs, won't we?"

"Yes, yes, yes."

About the Author

LINDA Anderson is the author of Over the Moon, The Secrets of Sadie Maynard, and When Night Falls. A mother of five grown children, she lives in South Florida with her husband. "Writing is a gift that brings me great joy, for which I'm very grateful. I hope my stories bring the same joy to my readers."

You may write to Linda Anderson:

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