"My grandmother is always telling me I mumble," Jake said.

"Actually, you do mumble," Amy Sachs whispered. "But, anyhow, Jake, when Mr. Deegan asked Mr. Stewart if he thought all this was a publicity trick by Laura Wilcox and Robby Brent, Mr. Stewart seemed to think it was. And maybe I missed something, but didn't Dr. Sheridan get a call from Laura Wilcox last night?"

Jake was practically salivating with the unexpected torrent of information. All afternoon he felt as if he had been watching a silent movie. He sat in the hotel lobby observing the activity but not daring to hang around the desk or obviously try to overhear the conversations. "Yes, Dr. Sheridan did get a call from Laura Wilcox. I happened to be around when they were talking about it in the small dining room."

"Jake, I don't think I've got this all straight. You know how it is- you hear part of one thing, then part of another. You can get only so near to people without seeming to be too near, but I get the impression that Robby Brent may have made that call last night and pretended to be Laura Wilcox."

Jake's hand was in midair, firmly grasping the uneaten portion of the hamburger. Slowly he lowered it to the plate. It was obvious he was mentally computing what Amy had just told him. "Robby Brent made that call and now he's not around, and they think all this is just a publicity stunt for some new television series?"

Amy's oversized glasses bobbled on her nose as she nodded happily. "Sounds like a reality series, doesn't it?" she asked. "Do you think that maybe there are hidden cameras filming in the hotel now?"

"It's something to wonder about," Jake agreed. "You're a sharp lady, Amy. When I open my own newspaper, I'm going to make you a columnist. Anything else you've noticed?"

She pursed her lips. "Just one thing. Mark Fleischman-you know, the really cute honoree who's a psychiatrist-"

"Sure, I know him. What about him?"

"I swear he has a crush on Dr. Sheridan. He went out early this morning, and when he came back, the first thing he did was come rushing to the desk and phone Dr. Sheridan. I overheard him."

"Of course," Jake said, grinning.

"I told him she was in the coffee shop. He thanked me, but before he hightailed it into the coffee shop, he asked if Dr. Sheridan had received any more faxes today. He looked almost disappointed when I said no, and he asked me if I was sure she hadn't gotten one. Even if he does have a crush on her, I think it's a little nervy of him to ask about her mail, don't you?"

"In a way I do, yes."

"But he is nice, and I asked him just casually if he'd had a pleasant day. He said yes, he'd been looking up some old friends at West Point."

58

After Sam Deegan left, Jean Sheridan and Mark Fleischman sat for nearly an hour at the table in the coffee shop. He reached over and covered her hand with his as she told him about meeting Craig Michaelson, about becoming convinced that Michaelson had handled Lily's adoption, and about verbally attacking him when she felt he was refusing to understand that Lily might be in genuine danger.

"I did call to apologize," she explained. "When I did, I pointed out that it's just possible Lily might remember where she was when her hairbrush disappeared. That could be a direct link to who might have taken it, unless, of course, her adoptive parents are behind all this."

"That's a real possibility," Mark agreed. "Are you taking Michael-son's advice to petition the court to open the file?"

"Absolutely. I'm meeting Sam Deegan in his office tomorrow morning."

"I think that's smart. Jean, what about Laura? You don't believe this is just some publicity stunt, do you?"

"No, I don't." Jean hesitated. It was nearly four-thirty, and the late afternoon sun was sending slanting shadows through the almost deserted coffee shop. She looked across the table at Mark. He was wearing an open sport shirt and dark green sweater. He's one of those men who'll always have a boyish look, she thought-except for his eyes. "Who was that teacher we had who called you an 'old soul?" she asked.

"That was Mr. Hastings. And what brought that up?"

"He said you were wise beyond your years."

"I'm not sure it was meant as a compliment. You're leading up to something, Jeannie."

"I guess I am. My understanding of old souls is that they have great insight. When I got in the car after I left Craig Michaelson's office, I was upset. I told you that. But then, Mark, if Laura had been in the car with me, I couldn't have heard her speak more clearly. I heard her voice saying, 'Jean, help me. Please, Jean, help me.' "

She scrutinized his expression. "You don't believe me, or you think I'm crazy," she said defensively.

"That's not true, Jeannie. If anyone believes in the power of the mind to communicate, I do. But if Laura is really in trouble, where does Robby Brent fit into the picture?"

"I have no idea." Jean raised her hand in a gesture of helplessness, then lowered it as she looked around. "We'd better get out of here. They're already setting the tables for dinner."

Mark signaled for the check. "I wish I could ask you to have dinner with me, but tonight I have the unique privilege of breaking bread with my father."

Jean looked at him closely, not sure of how to respond. The expression on his face was inscrutable. Finally she said, "I know you've been estranged from him. Did he call you?"

"I walked past the house today. His car was there. Impulsively, quite impulsively, I went up and rang the bell. We had a long talk- not long enough to settle anything, but he did ask me to meet him for dinner. I said I would, on the condition that he would be prepared to answer certain questions I was going to ask him."

"And he agreed?"

"Yes, he did. Let's see if he keeps his word."

"I hope whatever you have to work out can be worked out."

"So do I, Jeannie, but I'm not counting on it."

They got in the elevator together. Mark punched the buttons for the fourth and sixth floors.

"I hope your view is better than mine," Jean said. "I overlook the back parking lot."

"Then it is better," he agreed. "I'm facing the front. If I'm in the room at the right time, I get to see the sunset."

"And if I happen to be awake, I get to see who comes rolling in around daybreak," Jean said as the elevator stopped at the fourth floor. "I'll see you, Mark."

The message signal on the phone in her room was blinking. The call was from Peggy Kimball and had come in only a few minutes earlier. "Jean, I'm on my break at the hospital, so I'll make this fast. After I left you, it occurred to me that Jack Emerson worked for the clean-up crew in our office building around the time you were seeing Dr. Connors. I told you Dr. Connors always kept his file keys in his pocket, but he must have had a spare hidden somewhere because I remember that one day he forgot to bring his key ring to the office but still was able to open the files. So maybe Emerson or someone like him did get a look at your records. Anyhow, I thought you should know. Good luck."

Jack Emerson, Jean thought as she replaced the receiver and sank down on the bed. Could he be the one who's doing this to me? He's always lived in this town. If the people who adopted Lily live here, too, he may know them.

She heard a sound and turned in time to see a manila envelope being slid under the door. She hurried across the room and yanked the door open.

An apologetic bellman was trying to straighten up. "Dr. Sheridan, a fax came for you right after a whole stack came for one of the other guests. Your fax got put in with his material. He just came across it and brought it down to the desk."

"It's all right," Jean said softly, fear almost closing her throat. She closed the door and picked up the envelope. Her hand shaking, she ripped it open. It's going to be about Lily, she thought.