backed off, blushing.
'I'm fine.' said Ivy. 'I'm really fine.'
'Are you?' Beth looked like a worried mother owl, her eyes wide, her frosted hair falling out of its knot in soft feathers. She stared at Ivy's bruised cheek.
'It's the newest thing since tattoos,' Ivy said, smiling and touching her face lightly.
'Your (ace looks like… a pansy.'
Ivy laughed. 'Purple and yellow. I'm going to look great for the festival. You got anything that matches?'
Beth tried to smile, but ended up biting her lip.
'Come on back,' Ivy said, leading her to the kitchen. 'Let's get something to drink. We have to stick around here for a few minutes. I'm getting interviewed for the third time.'
'By a newspaper?'
'By the police.'
'The police! Ivy, did you tell them—' Beth hesitated.
'Tell them what?'
'About the computer messages,' Beth said quietly.
'No.' Ivy pulled out a bar stool for Beth to sit on. 'Why should I? It was nothing more than a strange coincidence. You were just fooling around and—' The look in Beth's eyes stopped her. 'I wasn't fooling around.'
Ivy shrugged a little, then measured out some coffee beans. Since Friday evening she had been acting as if nothing much had happened, as if she had already gotten over the scare. She felt bad about ruining everyone's weekend and tried to keep them from worrying and fussing over her. But the truth was, she was glad to have her family home with her. She was starting to get spooked.
Philip was convinced an angel had sent Gregory to save her — the same angel who had prevented him from tumbling out of the tree house, he said. Recently he had found a statue of an angelic baseball player and claimed it had been delivered to him by a glowing friend of his own guardian.
Ivy knew her brother was talking like this because he was frightened. Maybe, Ivy thought, having lost Tristan, Philip was scared of losing her, too. Maybe that was why he had warned her several times about the train climbing up die ridge to get her.
How could she blame him? With the car accident, then Friday's close call. Ivy herself imagined hidden dangers wherever she looked. And if there was one thing she didn't heed just then, it was Beth looking at her as if she had glimpsed something frightening from beyond.
'Beth, you're my friend, and you were worried about me being alone, the same way Suzanne and Gregory were worried. The difference is, you're a writer and — and you've got a very active imagination,' Ivy added, smiling. 'It's only natural that when you worry, it comes out in a story.'
Beth didn't look convinced.
'In any case, you're not responsible. Even if you were psychic, psychics only know about things, they don't make them happen.'
The doorbell rang, and Ivy quickly dried her hands. 'So there's no reason to tell the police.'
'Tell them what?' Gregory asked, coming into die kitchen.
He was up earlier than usual, dressed for a day in New York City with Suzanne.
'Tell Gregory about it, Beth, if it would make you feel any better,' Ivy advised, then went to answer the door.
A redheaded man sucking on a breath mint was pacing the front porch as if he had been waiting for hours. He identified himself as Lieutenant Donnelly and asked Ivy if he could speak with her in the office where the assault had occurred.
'I'll see, 'Ivy replied, 'My stepfather didn't go to the college today, and if he's working—' 'Is he in? Good,' the detective said briskly. 'He's on my list, too.'
A few minutes later they were joined in Andrew's office by Gregory. The detective had questions for all of them, but most of what they talked about were facts they had gone over before.
When they were finished, the lieutenant said, 'Our reason for questioning you again is that we had a similar incident late last night in Ridgefield. Same style of break-in, victim a high-school girl, got a bag pulled over her head. If our friend is embarking on a series of such attacks, we want to find as many similarities as possible. That way we can establish a pattern, predict him — and nail him.'
'Then you've concluded that the attack on Ivy was a random act,' Andrew said, 'rather than something done by someone who knows her?'
'We haven't concluded anything,' the detective replied, leaning forward, raising' his bushy red eyebrows, 'and I'm always interested in other people's theories.'
'I have no theories,' Andrew said crisply. 'I just want to know if she is safe now.'
'Is there some reason you chink she isn't? Is there anyone you know who would want to hurt a member of your family?'
'No,' Andrew replied. Then he turned to Gregory. 'Not that I can think of,' he said slowly. 'Do you know of anyone, Gregory?'
Gregory let the question hang in the air for a moment. 'Nope.'
Andrew turned back to the detective. 'We just want to know if we can assume that Ivy is safe.'
'Of course. I understand, sir,' Donnelly said. 'And of course you understand that I can't assure you of that.' He handed Ivy his card. 'If you remember anything else, give me a call.'
'About the girl in Ridgefield,' Ivy said, catching the detective's sleeve. 'Is she okay?'
The man's mouth formed a grim line. He shook his head twice. 'Dead,' he said quietly, then pushed open the door next to the newly fixed windowpane. 'I can let myself out.'
As soon as he'd left. Ivy hurried out of the room, not wanting the others to see her tears. Gregory caught her halfway up the back stairs. She scrambled away from him and went down on all fours. He pulled her to him.
'Ivy. Talk to me. What is it?'
She pulled away from him and pressed her lips together.
'What is it?'
'It could have happened to me!' she blurted. 'If you hadn't come at that moment, if you hadn't scared him away—' Tears tumbled down her cheeks.
'It didn't happen,' he said gently but firmly, and sat her down on the steps.
Don't leave now. Ivy begged silently. Don't go out with Suzanne today. I need you more than she does.
Immediately she felt guilty about those thoughts.
Gregory wiped away her tears.
'Sorry,' Ivy said.
'Sorry for what?'
'For acting so-so—' 'Human?'
She rested against him.
He brushed the hair back from her face and let his fingers stay tangled in it.
'My father was right, you know. For once, old Andrew got it right. I feel sorry for the other girl's family, but I'm pretty relieved. Now we know it wasn't someone out to get you.' He pulled his head back to look at her. 'And that lets Will off the hook,' he joked.
Ivy didn't laugh.
'Unless Will has a career we don't know about. He can be awfully silent and mysterious….'
Ivy still didn't smile. She breathed as evenly as possible, trying to stifle her hiccoughs. 'You'd better get going, Gregory,' she advised. 'Do you realize what time it is? Suzanne doesn't like her dates to be late.'
'I know,' he said, and held Ivy apart from him, studying her.
Does he look at Suzanne that way, she wondered, so intently, as if he's searching out her thoughts?
Does he look into her eyes the way he looks into mine? Does he care about her as much as he cares about me?
Another wave of guilt washed over Ivy; her face must have revealed it.
