To find the perpetrator and bring him to justice, Sam thought. Let's hope that happens before any more pewter owls get planted on dead women.

Including a nineteen-year-old West Point cadet-that chilling possibility darted through his mind as he walked down the corridor to his own office.

69

Lily… Meredith. Lily… Meredith," Jean whispered over and over as she walked up Mountain Road, her hands in her pockets, her sunglasses hiding the tears of happiness she could not stop shedding.

She wasn't sure why she had wandered up that street except that when she rushed out of the coffee shop, she knew she wasn't ready to go back to the hotel. She passed houses that had belonged to neighbors years ago. How many of them still live here? she wondered. I just hope I don't run into anyone I know.

She slowed her step as she came near the house she had lived in. When she had driven by on Sunday morning, she hadn't had the chance to really study what the present owners had done with it. She glanced around. There was no one on the street to observe her. For a moment she stopped and put her hand on the split rail fence that now enclosed the property.

They must have added at least two more bedrooms when they renovated, she decided as she studied the house. When we lived here, there were only three bedrooms, one for each of us-Mother, Dad, and me. When we were kids, Laura used to ask me about that: "Don't your mother and father sleep together? Don't they like each other?"

I had read in an advice column in one of those women's magazines that no woman should have to sleep in the same room with her husband if he snored a lot. I told Laura my father snored a lot. She said, "So does mine, but they still sleep together."

I said, "Well, mine do, too, sometimes." But they didn't.

Now she looked up at the second floor at the two center windows. Those are the windows of my room, Jean thought. God, how I hated the flowered wallpaper. It was so busy. When I was fifteen, I begged Dad to cover the walls with bookshelves. He really was handy with projects like that. Mother objected, but he did it anyhow. After that, I called my room the library.

I remember the first day I was sure that my period was late and the days that followed when I prayed it would come. I promised God I'd do anything He wanted if I could just not be pregnant.

Well, now I'm glad I was, Jean thought fiercely. Lily… Meredith. I may meet her as soon as this weekend. At some point I'll probably slip and call her Lily, then have to explain, although maybe by then she'll understand. I wonder how tall she is. Reed was over six feet, and he told me that his father and grandfather were taller than he was.

Lily is safe-that is absolutely the most important thing in the world. But Craig Michaelson is sure that she never met Laura. So how would Laura know about the faxes?

Jean had intended to turn and start back to the Glen-Ridge but instead impulsively walked past her old house, up to Laura's former home. She stopped and stood in front of it.

As she had observed from the car on Sunday morning, the house and grounds were being maintained regularly. The house looked freshly painted, the flagstone walk was bordered with autumn flowers, and the lawn was swept free of leaves. Even so, with the shades drawn in every window, the house had a closed, unwelcoming look. Why would anyone buy a house, renovate it, keep it up, and not enjoy living in it? Jean wondered. She had heard a rumor that Jack

Emerson owned it. He's supposed to be quite the ladies' man. I wonder if he's kept it as a love nest for his girlfriends. If he does own it, now that his wife has moved to Connecticut, it would be interesting to see if he still needs it.

Not that I care, God knows, Jean thought as she turned and started back to the hotel. With a conscious effort she tried to put her anticipation about meeting Lily aside and concentrate on Laura and the new scenario that had been evolving in her mind.

Robby Brent.

Had Robby Brent been behind the faxes about Lily? she asked herself, trying to reason through that scenario. Maybe he's the one who found out I was pregnant. Maybe now he realizes that he could be prosecuted for sending those threats and wants Laura to take the blame because he suspects I would feel sorry for her.

It's possible, Jean decided as she passed the delicatessen and reluctantly waved to Duke, who was tapping on the window and waving at her. Robby Brent is just nasty enough to have somehow found out about Lily, and then, when the reunion came up, have sent those faxes as a cruel joke. I understand that he does a couple of benefits a year. It's possible he met Lily's family that way. Look how rotten he was, the way he ridiculed Dr. Downes and Miss Bender at the dinner. Even the way he presented his check to Stonecroft was an insult.

It was a scenario that made sense to her. If Robby sent those faxes and the hairbrush, he had to be worried about criminal prosecution, she reasoned. If he planned the publicity stunt with Laura, then that has backfired. In that case, he probably will be in touch with his producers to figure out a story. The media are going to hound them for an explanation.

On the other hand, Jack Emerson worked evenings in Dr. Connors' office and might have gotten into his files. Besides that, I need to know why Mark asked the clerk about my receiving a fax and then was disappointed to learn I didn't get one. Well, at least I can find that out fast enough, Jean thought as she turned onto the walkway that led to the Glen-Ridge.

When she stepped into the lobby, the warmth inside enveloped her, and she realized that she had been shivering. I ought to go up and soak in the tub, she reflected. Instead, she went to the front desk where a now busy Amy Sachs was checking in the early arrivals of the Starbright Electrical Fixtures Company event. She picked up the in-house phone, but when the customer Amy was waiting on was searching in his bag for his wallet, Jean managed to catch the clerk's eye and ask, "Any mail?"

"Not a bit," Amy whispered. "You can count on me, Dr. Sheridan. No more mistakes with your faxes."

Jean nodded as she gave the operator Mark's name. He answered on the first ring. "Jean, I was worried about you," he said.

"You've been worrying me, too," she said in an even tone. "It's nearly one o'clock, and I haven't had anything but half a cup of coffee all day. I'm going to the coffee shop. I'd be glad if you'd join me, but don't bother to stop at the desk and check to see if I've had any new faxes. I haven't."

70

True to his word, when he left President Dowries' office, Jake Perkins went directly to the classroom that had become headquarters for the newspaper. There he dug through the files of Gazette pictures that had been taken during the four years that Laura Wilcox had been a student at Stonecroft. In preparation for the reunion, he had looked through the yearbooks and found pictures of her. But now he wanted to get others, maybe some that were a little more candid than the yearbook shots.

In the next hour he found some photos that were right on target. Laura had been in a number of school plays. One of them was a musical, and he found a great picture of her performing in a chorus line, a standout in a Rockette-like group, with her high kick and dazzling smile. No question, she was a knockout, Jake thought. If she were in school now, there isn't a guy I know who wouldn't be trying to get her attention.

He snickered to himself as he thought of the way in which a boy would have tried to win favor with a girl back then, probably by offering to carry her books. Today he'd offer to drive her home in his Corvette, he thought.