in unrelieved black, everything oversized, from the baggy T-shirts to the backward ball caps to the combat boots to the pants that threatened to slide to their shoes at any moment.
On the opposite side of the lawn, as far as they could get from the young cinematic auteurs, stood two middle-aged women in schoolmarm dresses, ugly prints made into unflattering frocks that covered everything from mid-calf to mid-neck. Despite the warm June day, both wore cardigans that had been through the wash a few too many times. When I turned to look at the women, two middle-aged men appeared from a nearby minivan, both wearing dark gray suits, as ill-fitting and worn as the women's dresses. They approached the women and flanked them, as if to provide backup.
'I asked: what's going on?' I said. 'Get that camera-what are you doing?'
'There she is,' one of the women whispered loudly to her companions. 'The poor girl.'
'Look,' I said. 'It's no big deal. I appreciate your support, but-'
I stopped, realizing they weren't looking at me. I turned to see Savannah in the doorway.
'It's okay, sweetie,' one man called. 'We won't hurt you. We're here to help.'
'Help?' she said, between cookie bites. 'Help with what?'
'Saving your immortal soul.'
'Huh?'
'You needn't be afraid,' the second woman said. 'It's not too late. God knows you're innocent, that you've been led into sin against your will.'
Savannah rolled her eyes. 'Oh, please. Get a life.'
I shoved Savannah back into the house, slammed the door and held it shut.
'Look,' I said. 'Not to deny you folks your right to free speech, but you can't-'
'We heard about the Black Mass,' the boy without the camera said. 'Can we see it?'
'There's nothing to see. It's gone. It was a very sick prank, that's all.'
'Did you really kill a couple of cats? Skinned them and cut them all up?'
'
'What about the baby?' his camera-wielding friend asked.
'B-baby?'
'Yeah, I heard they found some parts they couldn't identify and they think it's this baby missing from Boston-'
'No!' I said, my voice sharp against the silence of the street. 'They found cats. Nothing else. If you want more information, I'd suggest you contact the East Falls or state police, because I have nothing further to add. Better yet, how about I call them myself? Charge you with trespassing? That's what this is, you know.'
'We must do as conscience dictates,' the second man said in a deep, orator's voice. 'We represent the Church of Christ's Blessed Salvation and we have committed ourselves to fighting evil in every form.'
'Really?' I said. 'Then you must have the wrong address. There's no evil here. Try down the street. I'm sure you can find something worth denouncing.'
'We've found it,' one of the women said. 'The Black Mass. A perversion of the most sacred rite of Christianity. We know what this means. Others will know. They will come. They will join us.'
'Oh? Gee, and I'm fresh out of coffee and doughnuts. I hate to be a bad hostess. If they don't mind tea, I'll put on the kettle. I make a really wicked brew.'
The boy dropped the camcorder. For a second, I thought it was the tea comment. Then, as he stumbled forward, I glanced up to see Savannah peering through the front curtains. She grinned at me, then lifted her hand and the boy jerked backward, falling to the grass.
'That's not funny,' I said, glaring at the teen as he struggled to get up. 'I won't stand here and be mocked with pratfalls. If you have something to say to me, contact my lawyer.'
I stormed into the house and slammed the door.
Savannah lay collapsed on the sofa, giggling. 'That was great, Paige.'
I strode across the room and yanked the curtains shut. 'What the hell did you think you were doing?'
'Oh, they wouldn't know it was me. Geez. Lighten up.' She peeked under the curtain. 'He's checking his shoelaces. Like maybe he tripped or something. Duh. Humans are so stupid.'
'Stop saying that. And get away from that window. Let's just ignore them and make dinner, okay?'
'Can we eat out?'
'No!'
We ended up eating out.
Savannah didn't railroad me into it. As I was defrosting chicken for dinner, I kept thinking of the people on my lawn, and the more I thought about them, the angrier I got. The angrier I got, the more determined I was not to let them upset me… or, at least, not to let them know they'd upset me. If I wanted to go out to dinner, damned if they'd stop me. Actually, I didn't really want to go out to dinner, but after I made up my mind, I decided to proceed, if only to prove my point.
No one stopped us from driving away. The teenagers filmed our exit, as if hoping my car would transform into a broomstick and take flight. The Salvationists had retreated to their minivan before we made it to the corner, probably grateful for the excuse to sit down.
Savannah decided she wanted take-out from Golden Dragon. The local Chinese restaurant was run by Mabel Higgins, who'd never set foot outside Massachusetts in her life, and, judging by her cooking, had never cracked open an Asian cookbook. To Mabel, bean sprouts were exotic. Her idea of Chinese cooking was American chop suey-A.K.A. macaroni and ground beef.
Unfortunately, other than the bakery, the Golden Dragon was the only restaurant in East Falls. The bakery closed at five, so I had to buy my dinner from the Golden Dragon as well. I decided on plain white rice. Even Mabel couldn't screw that up.
I parked on the street. Most parking in East Falls is curbside, particularly in the village core, where all the buildings predate the automotive age. I've never mastered parallel parking-I'd rather walk an extra block than attempt it-so I pulled over in the empty stretch in front of the grocer, which had also closed at five.
'Geez, can't you park a little closer?' Savannah said. 'We're, like, a mile away.'
'More like a hundred feet. Come on. Get out.' She launched into a moaning fit, as if I was asking her to trudge twenty miles through waist-high snow. 'Wait here then,' I said. 'What do you want?' She gave me her order. Then I warned her that I was locking her in and did so, both with the car remote and spells.
As I headed back to the car, I noticed an SUV parked behind my Accord and quickened my pace. Yes, I was being paranoid. Yet, considering there were no other cars within a half-dozen spaces of mine, it did seem odd, even alarming. As I jogged toward my car, I saw the face of the SUV driver. Not Leah. Not Sandford. Grantham Cary, Jr.
'Great,' I muttered.
I slowed to a quick march and yanked my keys from my purse. Under my breath, I undid the locking spells, then hit the remote unlock, so I could hop in my car without stopping long enough for him to approach me. As I drew near, I heard the soft rumble of his engine idling. I kept my gaze fixed on my car, listening for the sound of his door opening. Instead I heard the clunk of his transmission shifting into gear.
'Good,' I said. 'Just keep going.'
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reverse to pull out. Then he drove forward. Straight forward, hitting my car with a crash. Savannah flew against the dashboard.
'You son of a bitch!' I shouted, dropping the take-out bag and running for the car.
Cary veered out and tore off.
I raced to the passenger door and yanked it open. Inside, Savannah cupped a bloody nose.
'I'm okay,' she said. 'I just hit my nose.'
I grabbed a handful of tissues from the box behind her seat and passed them to her, then examined the bridge of her nose. It didn't feel broken.
'I'm okay, Paige. Really.' She glanced down at her blood-streaked T-shirt. 'Shit! My new shirt! Did you get a license number? That guy's paying for my shirt.'
