Robby scratched his head thoughtfully. “I don’t really remember it,” he said. “It happened too fast. Anyway, I got out of the way, didn’t I? I didn’t just jump like a scared rabbit like some people did. Let’s cut through the woods and go home by the beach,” he suggested.

“I don’t want to,” Missy objected. “I don’t like the beach.”

“You never want to do anything,” Robby said scornfully. “If you don’t want to go by the beach, you can stay on the road by yourself.”

Missy’s eyes widened with indignation. “You can’t leave me here. Mommy says we’re supposed to stay together.”

“But she didn’t say we’re always supposed to do what you want. Come on.” He started across the road, but Missy stayed where she was. When he got to the other side, Robby turned around and glared at his sister.

“Are you coming, or not?”

Missy felt torn. She didn’t want to go through the woods, didn’t want to walk on the beach. For some reason the beach scared her, even though she knew it didn’t scare Robby. Most of all, though, she didn’t want to walk home by herself.

She wondered what her mother’s reaction would be if she showed up by herself. Mommy might punish Robby for leaving her alone, but she also might punish Missy for not staying with her brother. She made up her mind, on the theory that being a little bit scared was better than being punished.

“Oh, all right,” she said, and hurried across the highway to catch up with Robby, who was already hunting for a path into the forest.

Harney Whalen pulled as far up the narrow driveway as he could and still leave room for the Randalls and the truck to get in ahead of him. He switched off the engine but didn’t leave the car immediately.

He was still bothered by what had happened. He had tried to act as if it had been the children who had been careless. But he knew they hadn’t been.

He knew that he had seen them in plenty of time.

He had frozen at the wheel.

He had nearly killed them both.

And he didn’t know why.

For a moment it had been very much like the few seconds before he went into one of his spells. Time seemed almost to stand still, and something happened to his muscles — he lost control of them, as if his body were a thing apart from himself, operating under its own volition.

But always before it had been all right: usually he was alone when something like that happened. Alone, where no one could get hurt.

This afternoon two children had almost been killed. He decided it was time to have the talk with Doc Phelps that he had been postponing for so long.

The decision made, he got out of the police car and walked over to the Randalls, who were waiting for him together with Jeff Horton.

“Something wrong?” Brad Randall asked him.

“I’m okay. Just thought I heard something in the engine.”

Without further words, he led the way along the path that took them out of the forest and through the tangle of driftwood. He opened the kitchen door, surprised that it wasn’t locked, then handed the key to Brad.

“There’s only the one key,” he said. “It fits both doors, and I have the only copy. If you want another one you’ll have to get Blake to cut it for you.”

“I doubt we’ll ever lock the place,” Brad said.

“Suit yourselves,” Whalen said noncommittally. “City people always seem to think they’re a lot safer in the country than in town. But there’s nuts all over the place.” His eyes went to Jeff Horton, and Jeff felt himself flush with anger, but he kept silent.

Whalen led them through the house, halfheartedly apologizing for the mess, but not offering to have it cleaned up. “Sometimes I think I ought to just tear the place down,” he muttered.

“Why don’t you?” Brad asked. Harney looked surprised, and Brad realized the chief hadn’t intended to speak out loud.

“I don’t know,” Whalen mused. “Just never get around to it, I guess. Or maybe I just don’t want to. I come out here every now and then. Gets me out of the house.” He started to leave, then stopped and turned back to face the Randalls once more.

“I’m going to tell you folks something,” he said heavily. “Clark’s Harbor is an inbred town. We’re all related to each other, and we don’t take kindly to strangers. And it isn’t just that we’re not friendly. It’s something else — whenever strangers come to town the whole place seems to get sort of out of whack, if you know what I mean. So don’t expect things to be any good for you here. They won’t be.”

“Well, if we don’t go looking for trouble, I can’t see that it’s going to come looking for us,” Brad said.

“Can’t you?” Whalen replied. “Better ask around, Randall. What about Horton here? He and his brother came and trouble found them in a few hours. With the Shellings it took fifteen years, but trouble found them too. And there’s your friends the Palmers. They damned near had a peck of trouble just about an hour ago. Well, nothing I can say will convince you.” He glanced at his watch. “Better be getting back to town. There isn’t any more I can do here. The place is all yours. Rent’s due on the first of every month.”

Then he was gone.

“That bastard,” Elaine said almost under her breath.

“Is that any way to talk about your landlord?” Brad asked. Then he chuckled. “I think he enjoys playing the voice of doom.”

Jeff Horton shook his head. “I agree with your wife,” he said. “He’s a bastard.”

Before the discussion could go any farther, a burly form appeared in the kitchen door.

“You people want this stuff unloaded, or do we take it back to Seattle?”

* * *

From their hiding place in the woods, Robby and Missy watched Brad leave the house. They had been watching everything, watching the movers haul carton after carton into the old house, watching them leave. Now Brad was leaving too.

“I thought he was going to live here,” Missy said plaintively. “That’s what you said.”

“Well, who says he’s not?” Robby asked. “He’s probably just going into town for something. Why don’t we go say hello to Mrs. Randall?”

“I don’t want to,” Missy complained. “I don’t like that house.”

“You always say that,” Robby pointed out. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t know. Bad things happen there. They happen all over this beach. I want to go home.”

“So go home.”

“Come with me.”

“I don’t want to. I like the beach.”

“It’s late,” Missy pointed out. “Mommy’s going to be mad at us.”

“Oh, she isn’t either,” Robby replied. But despite his brave words, he wasn’t sure that Missy wasn’t right; his mother had been acting very strange lately and Robby couldn’t figure out why. Ever since that woman had killed herself, his mother had seemed worried. He gave in to his sister.

“All right,” he said. “Come on.”

He started out of the woods but again Missy stopped him.

“Let’s go through the woods for a while.”

“Why?”

“This is the part of the beach where that man washed up,” Missy said.

“How do you know?”

“I just know, that’s all!”

“You don’t either,” Robby said angrily.

“I do too!” Missy insisted. She began walking away from her brother. “You can go that way if you want, but I’m going through the forest.”

Robby decided his sister was a royal pain, but he followed her anyway, obeying his mother’s edict that the two of them should stick together. A few minutes later Missy clutched his hand.

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