If it wasn't there, she wasn't certain what she would do.

She needn't have worried. The Landrys kept the key in the same place they had twelve years ago. A testament to how slowly some things changed in Cypress Springs. How safe a place to live it was.

Unless, of course, you were targeted by The Seven for behavior modification.

Permanent behavior modification.

Avery retrieved the key, opened the door and stepped into The Guesthouse's main hall. Turning, she relocked the door, slipped the key into her pocket and started up the stairs. The desk closed at 8:00 p.m.; each guest was given a key to come and go as they pleased.

Neither the Landry family nor a guest would give a second thought to the sound of someone moving about.

Avery quietly climbed the stairs. She reached the top landing and turned left. Gwen occupied the unit at the far end of the hall. Avery reached it and stopped, a dizzying sense of deja vu settling over her.

Gwen's door stood ajar.

Not again. Please God, not again.

With the tips of her fingers, Avery nudged the door the rest of the way open. She called Gwen's name, her voice a thick whisper.

Gwen didn't reply.

But she hadn't expected her to. She expected the worst.

Avery reached into her pocket and retrieved her penlight. She switched it on and stepped fully into the room, the slim beam of light illuminating the way. The place had been ransacked. Drawers and armoire emptied. Dresser mirror shattered. Lamps toppled.

She moved through the room, sweeping the light back and forth in a jittery arc. No bloody prints. No body. Swallowing hard, she crossed to the made bed. Bending, she lifted the bed skirt, pointed the light and peered underneath.

Nothing. Not even a dust bunny.

She dropped the skirt and straightened. Turned toward the armoire. Its doors hung open, contents emptied onto the floor in front. Avery pivoted toward the bathroom's closed door, then glanced back at the hallway. She shouldn't be handling this alone. She should call Buddy, the CSPD. Get them over here. Let them search for Gwen.

She couldn't do that. How would she explain being here? Latex gloves and penlight in her pocket? Last night at Trudy Pruitt's and tonight at Gwen Lancaster's-

Get the hell out. Call the cops from the car. Or better yet, from a pay phone on the other side of town.

Instead, Avery took a step toward the bathroom. Then another. As she neared it, she heard what sounded like water running.

She grasped the knob, twisted it and pushed. The door eased open. She inched closer, shone her light inside.

The room was small-ared shower curtain circling it. The floor clear.

The sound she'd heard was the toilet running. She crossed to it, jiggled the handle. It stopped filling.

So far so good.

She returned her gaze to the tub. To that flowered curtain. She had to look. Just in case.

She sidled toward it. As if a less direct approach might influence what she found. She stopped within arm's reach of the curtain. Her heart thundered in her chest. Her mouth went dry, her pits and palms were wet.

Do it, Chauvin.

She forced herself to lift her arm, grab a handful of the vinyl and yank it away.

"Don't move a muscle or I'll blow your fucking head off!"

Avery froze. Gwen, she realized. She was alive!

"Hands up!" Gwen snapped. "Then turn around. Slowly."

Avery did. Gwen stood in the doorway, face white as a sheet. She held a gun, had it trained on her.

"It's me, Gwen. Avery."

"I have eyes."

"This isn't how it looks. Your door was open…I found the place like this."

"Sure you did."

"It's true. I needed to reach you…your cell number wasn't working and I couldn't call here because I didn't want anyone to know we were in contact."

The gun wavered. Gwen narrowed her eyes. "You needed to reach me? I seem to remember you telling me you wanted nothing to do with me."

"That was before Trudy Pruitt."

Her already ashen face paled more. "What do you know about Trudy-"

"I was there last night. She called me, set up a meeting. When I got there her door was open, her trailer ransacked. I found her in the kitchen…on the floor. When I saw your door…your place, I…I thought they'd gotten you, too."

For a long moment Gwen simply stared at her. As if evaluating her words, deciding if she was being truthful. Then with the tiniest nod, she lowered the gun.

"Thank you." Avery let out a shaky breath. "That's twice in two days I've found myself staring down the barrel of a gun."

From the hallway came what sounded like someone climbing the stairs. They both swung in that direction. Gwen darted toward her door and shut it. She locked the dead bolt, then looked at Avery. She held a finger to her lips and pointed at the bathroom.

Avery indicated she understood. A moment later Gwen closed them in it, crossed to the tub and started the shower. White noise, Avery realized. To muffle their words, in case someone was listening.

That done, Gwen crossed to the toilet, lowered the lid and sank onto it. She dropped her head to her hands.

After several moments Gwen lifted her head and looked at Avery. "I thought I was dead."

Her voice shook. So, Avery saw, did her hands. She clasped them together.

"A woman called," Gwen continued. "She said she had information about The Seven and about Tom. We were supposed to meet tonight."

"She didn't show."

"No. She was a decoy."

"A decoy? You mean to lure you away from here?"

"To deliver my warning."

"I don't understand."

"I interviewed Trudy Pruitt yesterday. She told me The Seven exist. Past and present. She said they killed Elaine St. Claire. That they always deliver a warning before taking action. A terrible threat."

"Elaine St. Claire was warned?"

"Yes. She and Trudy were friends. They both served drinks down at Hard Eight. One day Elaine just up and disappeared."

"She took the warning seriously and left Cypress Springs?"

"Yes. A couple months later, Trudy got a letter from the woman. Apparently a representative of the group had paid St. Claire a late-night visit. He had made this weapon…a phallus with sharp spines and a knife blade imbedded in its tip.

"The man told her she had been judged and found guilty-of moral corruption. Because she slept around. A lot, apparently. He told her he would give her what she loved-that he would fuck her to death."

Avery pressed her lips together to hold back a sound of horror. She recalled what Hunter had told her about Elaine St. Claire's death. The two stories jibed.

Gwen stood. Avery sensed she was too jumpy to remain seated. "They warned me tonight. A cat…they gutted it, left it for me. At the meeting place. They meant to frighten me."

"And they succeeded."

"Hell, yes. I'm terrified."

"You've got to get out of Cypress Springs. Now. Tonight. I'll keep in touch, let you know what I find out."

"What makes you think you're immune?"

"I don't understand."

"You're not one of them anymore, Avery. If they discover you're onto them, they'll kill you."

"I'll make sure they don't find out."

Gwen laughed, the sound hard, humorless. "It's too late for that. They've seen us talking. You've asked questions around town. They see everything, Avery. Everything."

"I'm not leaving until I know the truth about my dad's death."

Gwen looked at her. Avery understood. Gwen wouldn't leave until she knew what had happened to her brother.

"We're in this together then," Avery said.

"Guess so."

Avery rubbed her arms, chilled. "In the interview, did Trudy Pruitt say anything about me or my father? Did she say anything about Sallie Waguespack?"

Gwen shook her head. "She talked exclusively about The Seven. I've got it all in my… Oh, no."