"She is Cadet Meredith Buckley. She's a second-year student, a yearling. But the General assured me that Meredith would not leave the West Point campus either Thursday or Friday because of the tests she has scheduled."

"Let's pray the General is right," Sam snapped. "Mr. Michaelson, in the unlikely event I meet any resistance when I call the superintendent at the academy, please be available for an immediate phone call."

"I'll be in my office."

"And if you're not, make sure your cell phone is on."

Sam was in the office behind the hotel's front desk, the place where he had started the investigation into the disappearance of Laura Wilcox. Eddie Zarro had joined him there. "You want to keep your cell phone line open, don't you?" Eddie asked.

Sam nodded, then watched as Eddie dialed the West Point number. While waiting for the call to go through, he frantically searched his memory for anything that might suggest another path of action. The technical guys were triangulating on Jean's cell phone, something they expected to complete within minutes. When they did, they'd be able to pinpoint the exact location of the phone. That should help-assuming it isn't in a garbage heap somewhere, Sam thought.

"Sam, they're ringing the superintendent's office," Eddie said. Sam's tone when he picked up the phone was only slightly less forceful than the one he'd used with Craig Michaelson. When he spoke to the superintendent's secretary, he did not mince words. "I am Detective Deegan from the Office of the District Attorney of Orange County. Cadet Meredith Buckley may be in serious danger from a homicidal maniac. I need to speak to the superintendent immediately."

He did not have to wait more than ten seconds before the superintendent was on the phone. He listened to Sam's brief explanation, then said, "She's probably in an exam right now. I'll have her brought to my office immediately."

"Just let me be sure that you have her," Sam asked. "I'll hold on."

He held the phone for five minutes. When the superintendent came back on, his voice was charged with emotion. "Less than five minutes ago, Cadet Buckley was seen leaving Thayer Gate and going over to the parking lot of the Military Academy Museum. She has not returned, and she is neither in the parking lot nor in the museum."

Sam didn't want to believe what he was hearing. Not her as well, he thought, not a nineteen-year-old kid! "I understood that she promised her father she wouldn't leave West Point," he said. "Are you sure she went outside?"

"The cadet didn't break her word," the superintendent said. "Although it's open to the public, the museum is considered part of the West Point campus."

90

Jill Ferris was in the studio when Jake got back to Stonecroft. "Robby Brent's body was in the meat wagon by the time I got there," he said, "but they'd pulled the car out of the water. He was found in the trunk. I bet President Downes is having a heart attack or at least a bleeding ulcer. Can't you see the publicity we'll be getting now?"

"The president is very upset," Jill Ferris admitted. "Jake, are you through with the camera?"

"I think so. You know, Jill -I mean Ms. Ferris-it wouldn't have surprised me if Laura Wilcox was found in the trunk of that car with Brent. I mean, what's happened to her? I'd bet the ranch that she's dead, too. And if she is, the only one at that lunch table still alive is Dr. Sheridan. If I were her, I'd hire a bodyguard. I mean, when you think how many so-called celebrities won't stir unless they're surrounded by a couple of muscle men, why wouldn't someone like Dr. Sheridan, with a real reason to worry, not get some protection?"

It was a rhetorical question, and Jake was already on his way into the darkroom, so he got no answer.

He wasn't sure what he would do with his shots of the crime scene. It was unlikely that they'd ever see the light of day in the Stonecroft Academy Gazette. Still, he was certain that he'd eventually find a place for them, even though he hadn't yet received an offer to be a roving reporter for the New York Post.

When the pictures were developed, he viewed them with intense pleasure. From different angles he had caught the starkness of the car with its sides dented from hitting a rock pile in the river and its open trunk, dripping water. He also had gotten a good shot of the meat wagon, its lights flashing as it backed away.

The pictures he had taken in the morning of the Mountain Road house were still clipped and hanging on the line. His gaze fell on the last one, the out-of-focus picture of the front of the house. As he looked closely at it, his eyes widened.

He grabbed the magnifying glass, studied the picture, then un-clipped it and rushed out of the darkroom. Jill Ferris was still there, grading papers. He dropped the picture in front of her and handed her the magnifying glass.

"Jake," she protested.

"This is important, really important. Look at this picture and tell me if something looks out of place or different. Please, Ms. Ferris, really look."

"Jake, you'd drive anyone crazy," she said with a sigh, taking the magnifying glass from him to study the print. "I guess you mean that the shade on that window on the second floor in the corner is kind of lopsided. Is that it?"

"That's exactly it," Jale exulted. "It wasn't lopsided yesterday. I don't care how empty that kitchen looks-somebody's living in that house!"

91

Sam had returned to the Glen-Ridge House rather than go back to the office in Goshen because he was beginning to feel certain that one of the honorees, or perhaps Jack Emerson or Joel Nieman, was responsible for the threats to Lily. All of them had worked in the building where Dr. Connors' office was located. At some point over the weekend, one of them had referred to Jean as having been his patient. But which one he hadn't yet determined.

Fleischman had insisted he heard one of those other men mention that Jean was Connors' patient. Of course, he could be lying, Sam thought. Stewart denied ever hearing the remark. And he could be lying, too. But at least at the Glen-Ridge he could keep an eye on Fleischman and Gordon Amory, who were still checked in there. The fact that Jean was missing would be picked up by reporters and be broadcast, and he'd bet anything that the news would bring Jack Emerson rushing there as well.

He'd already asked Rich Stevens to put surveillance on all of them. That would kick in soon.

At ten after twelve he got the call he was hoping to receive from the technical guys. "Sam, we have a fix on Jean Sheridan's phone."

"Where is it?"

"In a moving car."

"Can you tell where the car is?"

"Near Storm King, heading toward the Cornwall area."

"He's coming from West Point /' Sam said. "He has the cadet. Don't lose him. Don't lose him."

"We don't intend to."