"How many people does it take to work one of these things?" Grand asked as they jogged across the beach.

"A Hobie Cat? After it's in the water, one good sailor could handle it," she said.

They reached the wreckage and Grand shined his light across it. The sail was shredded and there were gashes in the trampoline and on the pontoons that resembled the sharp, clean marks they'd seen on the road engineer's backpack at the creek sinkhole.

"Are they teeth marks?" Hannah asked.

"I don't think so," Grand told her. "There are three and four in spots. They look more like claw marks. But check out the pontoons-the attacker was under the catamaran."

Hannah bent and examined the gashes. "Then I guess that rules out our strange little theory."

"This wouldn't necessarily rule it out," Grand said. "While big cats don't particularly like the water, they're excellent swimmers when they want to be."

"Selective habitual parallelism," Hannah said.

"It does occur," Grand said. "So let's try this on. The predator, whatever it is, is either walking along the shore or is in the sea. For all we know the tunnels have an outlet right off shore. Many cave systems do. The animal sees the boat and goes under. It attacks from beneath-using its claws because its mouth is closed. It chases the sailor ashore then kills him and turns back the way it came, its prey in its mouth. The victim bleeds on the sand as the killer retreats."

Just then they heard a distinctive, two-siren wail in the distance, one sound high and the other low.

"The herald angels of Malcolm Gearhart," Hannah said. "I say we tell him the killers are land sharks and see how he reacts."

"Pardon?"

"Land sharks," Hannah said. "Didn't you ever see them on Saturday Night Live!"

"The Travolta movie?"

Hannah looked at him and smiled. "It's okay," she said. "Never mind."

For a moment Grand felt the way he used to when Rebecca would make fun of what she called his "not-getting-it-ness"-like a big dumb rock. His wife used to follow it up with a peck on the forehead or a hug and an explanation, which more often than not he still didn't get.

Hannah started back toward where the Wall was and Grand followed. But he really missed Rebecca right then.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Dressed in new overalls, her sad freckled face framed in long, curly red hair, six-year-old Eugenie Budette sat eating microwaved macaroni and cheese and drinking iced tea at the small Formica table in their camper. Eugenie's stuffed, scruffy white rabbit, Blankie, was sitting on the bench beside her. There was a window to her right but the amber drapes had been drawn-by her. Eugenie didn't want to see where they were because she didn't want to be where they were. And though the drapes didn't make it all go away, at least they were familiar, more like home than this place whose name she didn't know because she hadn't really been paying attention when her father had said what it was.

All she knew was that they had parked here in these stupid hills just a few minutes ago after driving for nearly five hours. Her father had wanted to get an earlier start but the movers took longer to get the truck loaded. Because it was late, Eugenie's parents decided to stop at some stupid campgrounds instead of going to a stupid motel. Her father said he needed to stretch his legs and her mother needed to get fresh air, so they'd gone outside. Eugenie hadn't wanted to go with them so she made herself and Blankie food, pulled the drapes, and sat here quietly sharing bites of dinner and hard swallows of sadness.

"Frizzuh brassa mugga lugga?"

"Shoomy noomy, hahahahaha!"

That's what her parents sounded like, talking on the other side of the wall. They were happy. That made Eugenie feel even sadder, lonelier. They didn't understand how dumb this was.

There were more voices now. There had been five or six RVs up here when they arrived. These people were probably from another camper. Eugenie knew from other trips, more fun trips, that campers liked to get to know each other, even though they did it by always saying the same things, asking the same questions.

"Hi, we're the Happy Dappy family from Arizona. Where are you folks from?"

"Hey, we're Joe and Sue Dumbhead from Minnesota. Where are you folks from?"

"We're from San Di-e-go," Eugenie said defiantly, possessively stressing each syllable. That's where she was born and that's where she was still from.

A moment later the young girl sighed.

"No we're not, Blankie," she said unhappily. There were tears behind her eyes. "We're not from there anymore."

Eugenie took a forkful of macaroni. She chewed it slowly, without pleasure. Whenever they went camping she usually didn't mind the talk. She and Blankie talked too. But this wasn't a trip the young girl wanted to make. The Budettes were leaving their home in San Diego and driving up to Seattle, where her father had taken a new job. Eugenie didn't know why her father needed a new job. She thought he liked working for the navy.

Eugenie put her plastic fork down. "I'm not really hungry, Blankie. Are you?"

"No, I've totally lost my appetite," the rabbit answered from the side of Eugenie's mouth.

Eugenie put her left fist under her left cheek. She looked across the table at the bathroom, the shower, and the little sleeping area of the camper. She didn't want to sleep here. She wanted to sleep in her own bed, in her own house, where she'd always slept. She didn't want to move. She didn't want to make new friends, she wanted to keep the old ones-not on E-mail but in real life. She wanted to be able to watch TV with her best friend Ana and videotape the plays that they put on and-

Something thumped hard against the side of the camper, just under the window. It rocked the RV back and forth and then it was quiet outside. There was no more shoomy noomy or laughing.

Eugenie listened carefully after the RV stopped moving.

"Mom?"

The young girl's mouth twisted. She picked up Blankie and slid off the bench.

"Mom?"

She walked toward the door at the front of the RV. There was no one talking at all now and she was scared. She'd seen a TV show about the world's most ordinary serial killers where people had gone to the store and parked next to killers, who seemed like friendly people until they followed them home and killed them. Serial killers probably went to campgrounds too.

She reached the door and hesitated. She turned to Blankie, who was huddled in her left arm.

"What do you think?" she asked the rabbit.

Eugenie didn't bother answering. She thought that everything was all right, that maybe another RV had arrived and backed into theirs and her father was going to inspect the damage. But why hadn't her mother come in to see if she and Blankie were all right?

Eugenie reached for the knob. As she did the door suddenly swooshed open. Her mother was standing there, the top half of her body leaning across the door of the RV, her bottom half still outside. There was blood all over her forehead and cheeks, in her long red hair, and down her green sweater.

"Mom?"

"Get back!" her mother screamed at her.

Eugenie just stood there, scared and confused, as her mother put her right foot on the first of the two steps. The woman grabbed the sides of the doorway and tried to pull herself inside. But something stopped her. Cold. The woman's mouth pulled tight on both sides and her eyes shone white beneath the blood.

Eugenie started to cry.

"Stay inside!" her mother screamed. "Close the-"

Her mother vanished as she was speaking. She just disappeared to the side, like a balloon someone had popped. Here-then gone.