The Sixes

out the doorway. Duncan waved back and drove off down the street.

Once inside, she went window by window, checking that the locks were all on. It was clear nothing had been tampered with. But as she walked through the kitchen to check the back door, the thought of the bloody pool at the bottom of the dishwasher made her gag. Craig had promised to talk to the police about the incident on Thursday night, and she thought someone from the precinct would have been in touch with her by now.

As soon as she finished her inspection, Phoebe called Hutch. She wanted to arrange to stop by his cabin and find out what lightbulb had gone off for him. But he didn’t pick up.

“Hey, Hutch, it’s Phoebe,” she said to his answering machine. “I’m home now and I can stop by any time.” She imagined him out in the truck with his dogs, maybe picking up firewood or some grub for dinner tonight, probably listening to someone like Patsy Cline.

Next she phoned Glenda. She’d been surprised not to hear from her either. Just when she thought the call would go to voice mail, Glenda picked up.

“Sorry to be out of touch,” Glenda said. “I barely had time to shower today with everything that’s going on.”

“What’s the latest?”

“The campus is like a zoo. The kids are freaked, and so are their parents and the board of trustees. And we’re not just a regional story anymore—apparently a crew from Dateline is barreling in our direction as we speak. The fact that Halloween’s on Sunday isn’t helping. There’s a rumor running rampant that the next victim will be found this weekend.”

“Do you think Tom is fueling any of this?”

“To some degree, yes. I keep reiterating to him how crucial it is not to fan the flames, and he gives me that haughty look as if he’s shocked I’d suggest he would. But more than once I’ve spotted him huddled with someone on campus, and I don’t like it. Plus, he sent an e-mail update to parents that he didn’t clear with me first, and I thought the tone was all wrong. Yes, you’ve got to shoot straight, but you shouldn’t create mass hysteria.”

“How about you? How are you coping?”

“I’ve never felt so agitated in my career. I don’t think I’m giving that away in public, but inside I’m like that expression the kids here use—‘a hot mess.’ And poor Brandon. I haven’t been able to give him an ounce of time lately.”

“What about Mark? How is this affecting things?”

“I once thought I had a good marriage, but instead of having my back, Mark seems even more distant these days. I’ve asked him to help with Brandon, to spend more time with him, and all he says is that he’s too busy with work. But enough about me. How are you?”

From the casual tone of the question, Phoebe realized that her friend wasn’t in the loop about the latest incident.

“Well, there’s been a little development on my end, which Ball was supposed to tell you about.” She relayed the dishwasher story to Glenda.

“Oh, my God,” Glenda said. “Why the hell didn’t he inform me? And you had to stay there alone last night?”

“It’s not a problem,” Phoebe answered vaguely. “I’ve beefed up my locks.” As she spoke, she felt the guilt surge back. She still hadn’t told Glenda about Duncan, and the longer she waited, the more awkward it would be. She started to say something, but Glenda cut in.

“Fee, look, I appreciate all you’ve done,” Glenda said. “But this is now totally out of hand. I want you to stop your investigation. I can’t put you in danger.”

“Oh, come on,” Phoebe said. “They’ve played a few dreadful pranks, but there’s no sign I’m in any real danger.”

“But you said yourself that we don’t really know what these girls might be capable of.”

“Are you thinking that as part of the fifth or sixth circle of membership, the Sixes will now demand the head of a tarnished celebrity biographer?” Phoebe tried to joke.

“I’m not kidding. I want you to stop. Why don’t you stay here tonight, and we’ll talk about it.”

“I’ll be okay, really.”

“At least come over for lunch tomorrow. I need to discuss this with you in person.”

Though Phoebe had no intention of letting Glenda force her off the hunt, she knew it would be good to hash out everything that had transpired in person. And she could finally tell her about Duncan. She agreed to stop by just after noon.

As the day quickly turned to twilight, she could feel dread begin to nudge her again. All of the ease and contentment she’d felt at Duncan’s last night was gone. Her perturbed mood, she realized, stemmed not only from having to face a night alone in her house, but also from the abrupt end to her afternoon with Duncan. Now that she had a few hours’ distance on the experience, she was sure that the shape-shifting his mood had undergone was due to something other than a phone call about work.

Keeping her gaze off the dishwasher, Phoebe made a cup of tea. She’d just sat down when her cell phone rang. Hutch, she thought. But she didn’t recognize the number on the screen.

“Professor Hall?” the voice asked. It sounded like a student. Don’t tell me someone’s pleading for a grade change during the weekend, she thought.

“Yes?”

“It’s Wesley Hines. You gave me your number, and said I could call you.”

“Oh, of course,” she said. Something was up. “How can I help?”

Wesley blew a gust of breath loudly into the receiver. “Wow, it’s been a weird two days since I saw you last,” he confessed.

“How so?” she asked. He’d been to the police, she suspected.

“Well, I did what you told me to do. I went to see the cops and told them my story.”

“That’s good. How did they react when you told them?”

“They took it seriously, real seriously. Let me tell you, it’s been a relief to have people finally pay attention— and you were the first one, so I appreciate that.”

“I’m sure it was frustrating when you talked to the campus cops last year, but I hope you can see it from their perspective. They had no reason to suspect it was anything more than an accident.”

“Yeah, well, I take it you heard about the drowned guy they found?”

“Yes, Trevor Harris. Did you know him?”

“Nope—though I knew the name. I guess Lily Mack must have mentioned him at some point, and then people were buzzing about him last spring, when they thought he just took off.”

“Are you thinking that the same thing happened to him that happened to you—but he didn’t make it out alive?”

“I’m no expert, but hey, I’ve watched enough crime shows to know that you’re supposed to put two and two together, and this sure looks like two and two together. It gives me the creeps when I think how close I came to dying myself.”

“Well, I’m just so happy you’re okay. And I appreciate your calling me to let me know you saw the cops.”

“Actually, that’s not the only reason I’m calling. You told me to get in touch if I thought of anything else—and I did. It may not mean much, but I don’t know, I guess I thought I should share it.”

Instinctively Phoebe sat up straighter, her curiosity fully engaged. She was sure the police wouldn’t want her getting involved in the investigation, but she wasn’t about to let that discourage her.

“Go ahead,” she said. “I’m anxious to hear.”

“Oh shoot, two people just walked into the store. Is there a chance we could meet after we close today? Then there won’t be any interruptions.”

“Today’s complicated, unfortunately,” Phoebe said. She was eager to hear what he had to say, but she needed to leave the evening open for Hutch. “How about tomorrow morning—at around ten?”

“Yeah, we’re closed on Sundays, so that should be fine. There’s a diner on Route 412 called Sammy’s. Ever hear of it?”

“No, but I’ll look it up. I’ll see you there at ten then.”