'A new girl. She lives over on Edgecomb .'
'When did you meet her?' Margot asked. 'And why haven't you said anything to us about her?'
Tony shrugged uncomfortably.
'Is she in your class?'
'Not exactly.'
Daniel felt cold. 'You can't see her anymore,' he said. 'You understand me?'
'Why not?'
'I don't want you to.'
'She's a nice girl.'
'I don't care.'
'Her dad said he wanted to talk to you.'
'Her dad?'
'Mr. Billingsly .'
The coldness intensified.
Billingsly.
He'd heard that name before, too.
Daniel dropped the doll in the trash can, wary of holding on to it any longer. He'd pick it up later and make sure it was destroyed. He sat down on the bed next to Tony, putting an arm around his son's shoulders.
'Look,' he said. 'Whether you believe it or not, we're doing this for your own good.'
'But--'
Daniel held up his hand. 'Let me finish. I'll go talk to this Mr. Billingsly tomorrow, but until your mother or I tell you otherwise, you are not to see this girl Do neen and you are not to make any more dolls.'
Tony stared up at him. There was no duplicity in the boy's eyes, no indication that he was lying or intentionally trying to deceive them. Daniel had the feeling that his son didn't really know why the doll was so important to him or why he was so compelled to work on the object.
He found that frightening.
His anger had abated somewhat, and for the first time he saw both himself and Tony as pawns, small players in a much larger game. He had no clue as to what that game was or who was playing it or what its purpose might be, but he was determined to find out before anything happened to his family.
He glanced up at Margot, saw both concern and confusion in her eyes.
'I'm sorry,' Tony said.
'You're off the hook this time,' Daniel told him.
'Just don't let it happen again.'
They lay in bed, reading their respective magazines.
Or pretending to. The television murmured softly in the background.
Margot put down her Time and shifted in the bed, turning toward Daniel. 'I'm scared,' she said.
He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder.
'I thought you were overreacting about Tony's . . .
'project.' I'm sorry I didn't back you up. I didn't realize it was this obsession with him.'
'At least it's not drugs.'
'I almost wish it were,' she said softly. 'At least we'd know how to deal with it.'
'You don't mean that,' Daniel said.
She sighed. 'I suppose not. But it's not normal, his fixation on making this doll. It's like he has to do it, like he's driven to do it. And he has to use exactly the same things to make it with.' She twisted her neck to meet his eyes. 'And what's with this girl and her father?'
'I don't know.'
'The father of the girl who taught him to make this doll wants to meet you? What's that all about?'
He shook his head, hoping his face didn't betray the unease he felt.
Margot's voice was flat. 'Maybe he's involved in a cult,' she said. 'Maybe he's turning into one of those suburban kids who are into devil worship.'
'I don't think so.'
'What is it then?' Margot asked.
It was his chance to come clean, to tell her about the shadow and what he remembered about the House, what he thought and what he suspected, everything. But he wanted to protect her, didn't want her involved.
'I don't know,' he said.
Doneen and Billingsly .
Daniel started the car, turned on the windshield wipers.
The names were connected in his mind with the House, but he could not recall their origins or put a face to either of them. He'd heard the names before, though.
Of that he was sure, and he pulled out of the driveway and drove around the block to Edgecomb Avenue.
The rain had abated during the night, but it had started up again a half hour ago, and he drove slowly through the puddle at the intersection, careful not to splash a pair of raincoated kids waiting on the sidewalk to cross.
Tony had stuck to his story about the girl and her father, had insisted that Mr. Billingsly wanted to talk to him, but it was obvious that his son did not want him to go over and meet either of them. He was purposely vague about which house the Billingslys lived in, and he kept insisting that it was over, he'd learned his lesson, he'd never make another doll again.
Something was going on here.
Daniel vowed that he'd find the Billingslys if he had to knock on every door and ask every single person in every single house on Edgecomb .
He parked at the end of the street and got out of the car, opening his umbrella. The rain was back down to a drizzle. Daniel was grateful for that, and he hopped over the running gutter onto the sidewalk. He felt a little strange walking up to the door of the first house, a little foolish, but by the time he reached the fifth house, he had his spiel down pat and his embarrassment had given way to uneasiness.
Before he'd finished with the first side of the street, he knew the truth.
There was no one named Billingsly living on Edgecomb .
No one had seen or heard of a girl named Doneen .
He went up the opposite side of the street just in case, but the result was the same. Neither adult nor child knew anything about Tony's mysterious acquaintances.
Daniel got back into the car and sat for a moment behind the steering wheel, staring out the windshield at the rainy street.
What bothered him the most was that he knew his son was not lying. Doneen was not simply a made-up person or a figment of Tony's imagination. She and her father were real. Or, rather, Tony had really met them.
How did he know that? How could he be so sure?
Because he'd met them himself as a child.
There it was again, on the tip of his consciousness, just that side of recollection. He knew he'd met them but could not recall any specifics. He tried not to derail this train of thought, tried to keep his mind on that narrow track, but other thoughts intruded, expanding his concentration outward, and his brief tenuous grasp of the past slipped, any hope he had of pinning down those memories gone. There remained only the certainty, not backed up by detail, that he had once metDoneen and Mr.Billingsly , and that Tony had too.
He started the car, pulled out into the street. Rather than back up or execute a three-point turn in the rain, he drove down to the end ofEdgecomb and turned left, intending to drive around the block and return to their street.
He was halfway down Edgecomb when he saw it.
There, in the rain, in the middle of the street, a small shadow, the same shadow he'd seen before in the alley.
Doneen?
He braked to a halt, jumped out of the car, but it was gone. The street was empty, the sidewalks vacant, no
