"Uh-hu-uh."

"Have you been sleeping?"

"Uh-hu-uh."

"You can also tell me "yes' with your finger."

Right finger.

"Very good. So you're in the house and you want to go out. Why don't you just tell me in your own words what's going on."

She fidgeted and touched her nose. Sniffed and blinked and opened her eyes. But she wasn't seeing me.

They closed again.

"Sleep… walk. Sleep… walk. Door… wood. Out… out, out… out…

She grimaced. Her breath quickened and her chest heaved.

"Relax, Lucy. Deeper and deeper relaxed, remembering what you need to remember, seeing what you need to see… Good, very good. Just keep breathing deeply. No matter what you see or hear or touch or smell or remember, you'll stay deeper and deeper relaxed, watching yourself from the TV room, so safe and calm and in control… good. Okay, go on."

"Out… lights. People yelling." Puzzled look. "Not my fault…"

"Deeper and deeper relaxed."

She sighed and her head drooped. Said something I couldn't hear.

I moved my chair right next to hers. A carotid pulse was beating slow and steady. Her cheeks were pink. I touched the top of her hand. Warm. Her fingers curled around mine and squeezed.

"Walk," she said. "Trees- pretty."

She said nothing for a long time, but her eyes kept moving and her head bobbed.

Walking in place.

Her head moved from side to side.

Taking in the scenery?

Suddenly, I felt her hand go cold.

"What is it, Lucy?"

"Father."

"You see Father on the screen?"

Long pause as she gripped my hand. Then her right index finger rose but the rest of her fingers stayed clamped.

"Deeper and deeper relaxed, Lucy."

Slow breathing, but louder and harsher.

"You can leave this place, Lucy. You can turn off the TV any time you want to."

She made a growling sound, and the left finger stayed up in the air for several seconds.

"You want to stay here."

Right finger.

"Okay, that's fine. Go ahead, do what you want to do and tell me what you want to tell me."

A long silence. "Father… men… carrying lady. Pretty. Like Mama… dark… hair. Pretty… carrying."

More silence. The pulse in her neck quickened.

I said, "Other men, too."

Right finger.

"How many?"

Concentration. Her head moved from side to side. "Two."

"Two besides Father?"

Right finger. Her hand remained cold. Sweat flowed from her hairline, trickling down her cheek. She seemed impervious as I wiped it.

"You're just watching it," I whispered. "You're safe."

"Two," she said.

"What do they look like?"

Silence.

"Can you see them?"

Right finger. "Carrying the lady."

"Is she saying anything?"

Left finger.

"What's she wearing?"

"Blouse… white blouse… skirt."

"What color skirt?"

"White."

"A white blouse and a white skirt. Any shoes?"

Left finger. "Toes."

"You see her toes."

Right finger.

"Is she moving them?"

Left finger. "Not moving."

"Can you see her face?"

Silence. "Pretty. Sleeping."

"She's sleeping."

Confused look. "Not moving."

"She's not moving at all?"

Right finger.

"So you think she's sleeping."

Right finger. "Carrying her."

"The men are carrying her. Is Father carrying her?"

Left finger. "Hair… hairy lip."

"A man with a hairy lip is carrying her?" I thought of Terry Trafficant's bearded, skeletal face.

Right finger.

"You can see the men now."

She puckered her face. "Hairy Lip… other man turned around."

"The third man is turned around. You see his back?"

Right finger.

"Can you see what the other men are wearing?"

Silence. "Father… white… down to ground." Confused.

"Down to the ground. Long. Like a robe?"

Right finger.

"And the other men?"

"Dark… clothes."

"Both of them?"

Right finger. "Dark outside. Too."

"It's dark outside and it's hard to see. But you can see Father's white robe and the lady's white blouse. The other two men are wearing dark clothes."

Another look of confusion. She pouted. "Ha-ard."

"It's okay, Lucy. Whatever you see is okay. Just tell me whatever you want to."

She squinted, as if trying to focus. Tensed and sat up.

"Shovel… digging… Hairy Lip… Father holding the lady. Hairy Lip and the other man are digging. Digging fast, digging. Digging and digging. Digging. Father holding… heavy. Says "Heavy'… "Hurry the hell up!' Angry… puts her down…"

She shook her head and sweat flew.

I dabbed her again. "Father put the lady down on the ground?"

Right finger.

"Digging… and digging and digging… "Roll it.' " Her voice deepened. "Roll it, roll it!' "

"You're watching it, Lucy. On the screen. You're sa-"

Her fingernails dug into mine. The child's voice returned. "Lady… gone. Lady gone! Lady gone! Lady gone!"

25

She slipped into inert silence as I flipped the calendar pages back to the present.

Before I brought her completely out, I gave her posthypnotic suggestions to feel refreshed and successful and to be able to remember anything she'd seen that night while remaining relaxed.

She came out smiling and yawning. "I'm not sure what happened, but I feel pretty good."

I had her stretch and walk around. Then I told her.

"Three men," she said.

"You described one as having a hairy lip."

She rubbed the rim of her water glass. "A mustache? I can't really remember that- can't remember anything- but that feels right. Hints of memories, distant but right. Am I making sense?"

"Perfect sense."

"Can I go back under and try some more?"

"I think we've done enough."

"What about tomorrow?"

"All right," I said. "But promise me not to try anything by yourself before then."

"I promise. Now can I see that picture of Karen?"

I went and got the clipping from the Shoreline Shopper.

The moment she looked at the photo her hands began to shake.

She took the paper from me, stared at it for a long time. As she began to read, her hands stilled. But the color had left her face and her freckles stood out like Braille dots.

Handing the clipping back to me, she nodded. Then she cried.

At four, I drove to the Sand Dollar. The film crew was there again and a blond beach goddess in a black thong bikini was posing on the sand with a sweating can of beer.

As I entered the restaurant, I spotted Doris Reingold at the bar. She got off her stool. "Hi, there." After seating me near the window, she said, "Back in a jiff."

I was the only customer in the place. The beach was unpopulated. A busboy brought me coffee and I watched the blonde smile on command, flipping her hair, turning herself slowly like a chicken on a spit.

"Good view?" said Doris, pad in hand.

"Hooray for Hollywood."

She laughed. "Good to see you back. Early dinner? We just got in some fresh local halibut."

"No, just a snack. What kind of pie do you have?"

"Lemme see." She ticked her pad with her pen. "Today we've got apple and chocolate cream and, I think, pecan."

"Apple with vanilla ice cream."

She brought me a double wedge under two dollops of ice cream.

"Feel free to sit down," I said.

She touched her gray hair. "Sure. Marvin's not in for a while, why not?"

After pouring coffee for herself, she slid into the booth, the way she had the first time. Looking out at the blonde, she said, "Girl like that, gonna get herself one of two things: rich or in trouble."

"Or both." I cut into the pie.