He was holding a gun.

Terrified, Jean turned to run, but a familiar voice ordered, "Get in the car, Jean, unless you want to die here. And do not speak my name. It is forbidden."

Her car was only a few feet away. Did she dare try to run for it? Would he shoot her? He was raising the gun.

Numb with fear, she stood uncertainly; then, playing for time, she slowly started to put her foot into the car. I'll jump back, she thought. I'll duck. He'll have to get out to shoot me. I may be able to get back in my car. But in a lightning-quick gesture, he grabbed her arm, and pulled her the rest of the way into the car, then reached past her and slammed the door.

In an instant he was backing up, turning onto Route 218, heading toward Cornwall. He ripped off the mask and grinned at her. "I am The Owl," he said. "I am The Owl. You must never call me by any other name. Do you understand?"

He's insane, Jean thought as she nodded. There were no other cars on the road. If one came along, could she lean over and blow the horn? Better to take her chances here on the road than let him get her alone someplace where she couldn't get help. "I am… an… ow-owl… and… and… I… lllive… in… a…" he chanted. "Remember, Jeannie? Remember?"

"I remember." Her lips began to form his name and then froze before any sound came. He's going to kill me, she thought. I'll grab the wheel and try to cause an accident.

He turned and smiled at her, an openmouthed smirk. The pupils of his eyes were black.

My cell phone, she thought. It's in my pocket. She shrank back against the seat and fumbled for it. She managed to slide it out and edge it to her side where he couldn't see it, but before she could attempt to open the cover and dial 911, The Owl's right hand shot over.

"We're getting into traffic," he said. His strong fingers, crooked like talons, flew to her neck.

She jerked back away from him and, with her last conscious thought, pushed the cell phone between the seatback and the cushion.

When she woke up, she was tied to a chair; there was a gag on her mouth. The room was dark, but she could make out the figure of a woman lying on the bed across the room, a woman in a dress that sparkled and caught the tiny glimmers of light that broke through the sides of the thick shades.

What happened? Jean thought. My head hurts. Why can't I move? Is this a dream? No, I was going to meet Laura. I got in the car and-

"You're awake, Jeannie, aren't you?"

It was an effort to turn her head. He was standing in the doorway. "I surprised you, didn't I, Jean? Do you remember the school play in the second grade? Everybody laughed at me. You laughed at me. Remember?"

No, I didn't, Jean thought. I felt sorry for you.

"Jean, answer me."

The gag was so tight that she wasn't sure if he could hear her response: "I remember." To be sure he understood, she nodded her head vigorously.

"You're smarter than Laura," he said. "Now I must go. I'll leave you two together. But I'll be back soon. And I'll have someone with me you've been dying to see. Guess who?"

Then he was gone. From the bed Jean heard a whimpering sound. Then, her voice muffled by the gag but still audible, Laura began moaning: "Jeannie,…promised…wouldn't hurt Lily… but he's going…going to kill her, too."

80

At a quarter of nine, on his way to the Glen-Ridge House, Sam decided that it was not too early to call Jean. When she didn't answer her room telephone, he was disappointed but not worried. If she had dinner in her room last night, she has probably gone to the coffee shop for breakfast. He debated about calling her on her cell phone but decided against it. By the time I place the call, I'll be there, he thought.

The first sense that something might be wrong came when he could not find her in the coffee shop, and again when she did not answer her room phone. The desk clerk could not be sure if she had gone out for a walk. He was the man with the funny colored hair. "That's not to say she didn't go out," he explained. "Early morning is a busy time for us, with people checking out."

Sam saw Gordon Amory coming out of the elevator. He was dressed in a shirt and tie and an obviously expensive dark gray business suit. When he saw Sam, he went over to him. "By any chance have you spoken to Jean this morning?" he asked. "We were supposed to have breakfast together, but she didn't show up. I thought she might have overslept, but she doesn't answer in her room."

"I don't know where she is," Sam said, trying to hide his growing anxiety.

"Well, she was tired when we all got back here last night, so maybe it slipped her mind," Amory said. "I'll catch her later. She said she'll be around until tomorrow anyhow." With a brief smile and a wave of his hand he was on his way to the front door of the hotel.

Sam took out his wallet and looked for Jean's cell phone number but couldn't find it. Exasperated, he decided that he must have left it in the pocket of the jacket he'd been wearing the day before. There was one person he knew, however, who might have it-Alice Sommers.

As he dialed Alice 's number, he realized again how much he anticipated hearing the sound of her voice. I had dinner with her the night before last, he thought. I wish we had plans for tonight.

Alice did have Jean's number and gave it to him. "Sam, Jean called me yesterday to say how excited she is about meeting Lily's adoptive parents. She also said there was a chance that over the weekend she'll actually meet Lily. Isn't that wonderful?"

A reunion with the daughter you haven't seen in nearly twenty years. Alice is thrilled for Jean, but it has to be one more kick-in-the-teeth reminder to her that Karen's been gone practically the same amount of time, Sam thought. He was disappointed to realize that whenever he was emotionally touched, he covered himself by sounding somewhat abrupt. "It's great for her. Alice, I've got to run. If you happen to hear from Jean, and I haven't spoken to her, ask her to give me a call, okay? It's important."

"You're worried about her, Sam, I can tell. Why?"

"I'm a little concerned. There's a lot going on. Listen, she's probably just out for a walk."

"Let me know the minute you hear from her."

"I will, Alice."

Sam snapped the phone closed and walked over to the hotel desk. "I'd like to know whether Dr. Sheridan ordered room service this morning."

The answer came quickly: "No, she did not."

Mark Fleischman was walking through the front door into the lobby. He spotted Sam at the desk and went over to him. "Mr. Deegan, I want to talk to you. I'm worried about Jean Sheridan."

Sam looked at him coldly. "Why do you say that, Dr. Fleischman?"

"Because in my opinion, whoever is communicating with her about her daughter is dangerous. With Laura missing, Jean is the only woman of the so-called lunch table girls who is both alive and unharmed."

"I've thought about that, Dr. Fleischman."

"Jean is angry with me and doesn't trust me. She misread my reason for speaking to the clerk about a fax. She won't listen to anything I say to her now."

"How did you know that she was Dr. Connors' patient?" Sam asked bluntly.

"Jean asked me that, and I told her initially that I'd heard it from her. I've been thinking, however, and I know now where it came up. When the other honorees-I mean Carter and Gordon and Robby and I-were joking with Jack Emerson about working on the office clean-up crew for his father, one of them mentioned it. I just don't remember which one."

Was Fleischman telling the truth? Sam wondered. If so, I've been barking up the wrong tree. "Go over that conversation, Dr. Fleischman," he urged. "It's very, very important."

"I will. Yesterday Jeannie went for a long walk. I suspect she has done the same thing again this morning. I checked her room-she's not there – and I don't see her in the dining room. I'm going to drive around town and see if I can find her."