“Maybe she really does see things,” Robby suggested hesitantly.
“Could be,” Brad offered.
“I mean, the beach is a weird place during the storms.”
“Oh?” Brad could feel something coming and wanted it to come from Robby undisturbed, uninfluenced by his own feelings.
“I like the storms,” Robby went on, “but it’s funny. I can’t really remember what happens when I’m on the beach. It used to be fun, before all the bad things started happening. It was like I was all alone in the world, and it felt good. Even though it was raining real hard, I didn’t feel it. I didn’t feel anything, except inside myself.” His brows knotted in sudden puzzlement.
“What is it?” Brad prompted him.
“It’s funny,” Robby said. “I can remember how I felt but I can’t remember what I did. I mean, I can’t remember going anyplace or doing anything, but I guess I must have.” His voice dropped, and he seemed about to cry. “I wish I hadn’t gone out last night. If I hadn’t nothing would have happened.”
“Robby,” Brad assured him, “it isn’t your fault.”
But Robby looked unconvinced.
Glen Palmer came back to the Randalls’ in the middle of the afternoon, but when Brad asked him how the talk with Whalen had gone he was uncommunicative.
“I’m going to go up to the cabin,” he said. “Is it all right if I leave the kids here?”
“Of course,” Elaine agreed, watching him worriedly. “But wouldn’t you like one of us to go with you?”
“I’d rather go by myself. I have some thinking to do and I think I can do it best there.”
Brad nodded understandingly and accompanied Glen to the door. When he was sure they were out of range of the children he put his hand on Brad’s shoulder and spoke softly.
“If it’s any comfort, I don’t think that whoever killed Rebecca and Jeff knew what they were doing.”
Glen paled slightly and stared blankly at Brad.
“I had a talk with Robby a little while ago,” Brad explained. “He doesn’t remember what he did on the beach last night. He only remembers feeling good.”
“What does that mean?” Glen asked dully.
“Well, whatever happens to Robby must be happening to someone else. But with the opposite effect: Robby feels good, someone else goes crazy. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s doing. Jeff and Rebecca just happened to be there.” In his own mind Brad had dismissed Missy’s story as childish imagination, not worth mentioning.
“Oh, God,” Glen groaned. “It all seems so — so futile!”
“I know,” Brad replied sympathetically. “But we’ll find out what’s happening, and we’ll stop it.”
“I wonder,” Glen said. “I wonder if it really even matters anymore.” He started out onto the beach but Brad called him back.
“Try to get back before dark, will you? Let’s not have anything else happening.”
“Okay,” Glen agreed. Then he turned and started up the beach, his shoulders slumped, his steps slow, uncertain. A few moments later, he disappeared around the corner of the house, and Brad stopped watching. While Glen walked and thought, Brad would work.
Chip Connor arrived at the Randalls’ at five thirty that afternoon and hesitated nervously before knocking at the front door. When Elaine opened it a few seconds later she found Chip twisting his hat in his hands and looking very upset.
“Chip!” she said warmly. “Come in.”
“Thanks,” Chip replied automatically. “Is your husband here?”
“Yes, of course,” Elaine said, her smile fading. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure. But I need to talk to Brad.”
“He’s in the dining room. Come on.”
Brad was at the dining-room table surrounded by stacks of books as he searched for an explanation for the madness around him. He looked up distractedly when he heard Elaine come into the room, then put his book aside when he realized who was with her.
“What brings you out here? If you’re looking for Glen I think he’s up at his place.”
“I need to talk to you.” Chip sank into one of the chairs around the table and Elaine quickly left the room, sensing that whatever Chip had to say, he wanted to say it only to Brad. When she was gone Brad gave Chip a searching look.
“What is it? Has something else happened?”
“I don’t know,” Chip said unhappily. “In fact, I’m not even sure I should be here. But I had to talk to someone and you were the only person I could think of.”
“What is it?” Brad urged him again. “Is it about Glen?”
“Only indirectly,” Chip replied. “I guess mostly it’s Harn — Harney Whalen.”
“What about him?”
“I’m not sure,” Chip said, squirming in the chair. Then, almost as if to change the subject, he said, “Did Glen tell you about what happened today?”
“No. He came in a couple of hours ago, but went right out again. He said he had some thinking to do.”
“I’ll bet he did,” Chip said. “I wish I knew what he was thinking.”
“Well, you might go ask him,” Brad suggested dryly. “You two seem to get along pretty well.”
“Maybe I will after a while,” Chip agreed. A silence fell over the two men.
“You said you wanted to talk about Whalen,” Brad said at last.
Chip nodded glumly. “I think something’s gone wrong with him.”
“How do you mean, wrong? You mean physically?”
“I wish it were that simple,” Chip hedged.
Brad’s fingers drummed on the table and he decided to wait Chip out, let him get to the point any way he wanted to. He wasn’t surprised when Chip suddenly stood up and started pacing the room.
“Something’s been nagging at me for quite a while now,” he said finally. “Harn’s attitude, I guess you might say.”
“You mean the way he feels about outsiders?”
“That’s it,” Chip agreed. “But up until today I’ve always been able to convince myself that it wasn’t anything particularly serious — that it was sort of a quirk in his personality.”
“But something happened today that changed your mind?”
“Glen Palmer. He came in to tell Harn what happened last night.”
“And—?”
“And Harn didn’t give him a chance. Instead he told Glen what happened.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“It was crazy,” Chip said. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since and the only word I come up with is crazy. Harn didn’t ask Glen any questions at all. Instead he accused Glen of killing Rebecca himself.”
“Just like that?” Brad asked.
“Close enough so that it doesn’t make any difference what the exact words were. He must’ve spent most of the night last night dreaming up a story about how Glen found Rebecca and Jeff Horton making love and killed Jeff, then Rebecca. Apparently you’re out of it,” he added, smiling humorlessly. Brad ignored the comment.
“What did Glen have to say?”
“What could he say? He said it was ridiculous but Harn wasn’t even interested in hearing what happened last night. He just kept after Glen, repeating his idea over and over, as if he were trying to convince Glen. I think he wanted Glen to confess.”
“I hope he didn’t.”
“Of course not,” Chip said. “And even if he had it wouldn’t have made any difference. The way Harney was acting, any court I’ve ever heard of would disqualify the whole thing.”
“But why? Why would he want to put the whole thing on Glen?”
“I don’t think it has anything to do with Glen personally,” Chip said. “For a while I thought it did, but I talked to my grandfather a few days ago, and he told me some things that made me wonder.”
“What sort of things?”
