"Not yet."
I kicked backward, striking him in the shin.
"Don't make me get rough," he said.
"Let go, Paul. Now!"
"Not till you tell me what you were doing."
I continued to struggle.
"Tell me!" Paul jerked me around, lifting my whole body, making it clear who was in control.
"I was taking a walk."
"In a swamp?" he replied. "I don't think so."
I stopped struggling, deciding to save my energy for the instant he relaxed.
"I was walking through the park," Paul said, "and saw you duck under here. What a surprise"-his voice mocked me-"our best little camper, sneaking around after curfew! It's not like you, Jenny, being out late like this-it's not like the dear little Jenny we all know and love."
I didn't respond.
"Come on, talk! Are you making a pickup? Did someone leave something down here for you?"
"Nothing much," I said. "And I couldn't find it any-way.
He looked around, loosening his grip. I seized the chance to pull away from him, racing forward, then glimpsing lights through the grass, lights on poles as they were in an earlier vision-dock lights. I crashed through the grass and into a clear area, running toward the college boathouse. From a distance behind me I heard his laughter. Paul wasn't bothering with the chase. Still, I didn't stop until I reached the racks of sculls. Crouching in the shadows, I gazed back toward the pavilion.
Paul emerged from the grass surrounding it and walked toward the street. I didn't know whether he was leaving me alone or setting a trap. He knew the route I'd take back. But if he had wanted to hurt me, he would have done things differently, I reasoned; he would have kept himself hidden so I couldn't accuse him later. And if he had wanted to kill me, he would have done it under the pavilion. I could have lain there for days before anyone found me.
It was an ideal place to murder and dump a body. And I was sure from my visions that my sister had been struck down beneath the pavilion. But that wasn't where the serial murderer liked to do his killing. If the police had discovered her body beneath the pavilion, they would have searched for a different killer, someone from the town or campus. And if they had known about the hammer I found in the theater, they would have focused on the people connected to the camp. I could no longer deny the probability that Liza's killer had known her.
If that person wanted the police to think the serial killer was responsible, then Liza's body had to be transported to the bridge without leaving a trail.
Given that her death was bloody, the job seemed more than one person could handle. If so, there could be two people in Wisteria who knew the truth about Liza's death.
I intended to find them.
So what do you think, Jen?" Tomas asked me the next morning as we waited for rehearsal to begin. "You don't like it," he guessed, fingering a bolt of filmy blue fabric.
"Tell me again. I wasn't quite listening."
He patiently explained a second time how he was going to create a sky for the set by stretching his semi-transparent fabric between the thirty-foot-high catwalk that ran across the front of the stage and the eighteen-foot ridge and waterfall that formed the set's back wall.
I struggled to follow what he was saying, uneasily aware of Mike and Paul standing nearby, as if they were waiting to speak to me. I wondered if Paul had told Mike about last night's incident. It annoyed me that I had let Paul see how afraid I was, though I would have been an idiot not to have feared him in that situation. "So what do you think?" Tomas asked again. I glanced down at the fabric. "It's beautiful. When the lights shine through, it will shimmer like a summer sky. "
Tomas beamed.
"Just one question. Who's attaching it to the cat-walk-besides me?"
"Arthur's getting an extension ladder," he said. "Someone will volunteer. I don't think I'd better-you saw me on the boat."
Mike stepped forward. "I'll help."
"Terrific," Tomas replied. "Ill see if I can find one more person."
He headed off quickly, perhaps wanting to sidestep an offer from Paul.
Gazing upward, Paul surveyed the the length of the high, metal walkway. His face warped into a smile, as if something amusing had occurred to him.
Then he turned to me. "Need some coffee this morning, Jenny?"
"No."
"You look tired," Mike observed.
Paul grinned. "That's the price of climbing out your window after eleven P.M. Yes," he added, noting Mike's surprise, "our own little Jenny."
"Why did you go out that late?" Mike's tone was disapproving.
"Someone sent me a note," I replied, "asking me to meet him by the river."
The light in Mike's eyes darkened. The muscles in his jaw tensed, hardening his face. I gave up the scrap of hope to which I had been clinging-he knew what I was referring to. He had sent the note to Liza.
"You ought to be more careful," he said.
"Yeah, you never know who you're going to meet out there," Paul added.
From across the stage Maggie called out, "Jenny. May I see you a moment?"
"She's on to you, girl," Paul whispered.
I ignored him and crossed the stage.
"How are you doing today?" Maggie asked, resting a hand on my shoulder.
"Good. Ready to go."
"Then what do you think of rehearsing with the stage lights up twenty-five percent and the house lights down about the same? Think you can handle it?"
"I'd like to try."
"I want everyone who is not in your scene to be sitting in the audience. Is that pushing you too hard? We can cut the scene immediately if you start to feel ill."
"Let's cut the scene only if I give you a signal," I proposed. "I might turn a little green, but I want to try to get through it."
Maggie smiled. "I knew from the start you'd be a great kid to work with. I'll tell Walker."
Walker wanted to run the same scene as yesterday since he thought it best to "get back on the horse you were riding when you fell off." The lights were adjusted and kids settled into their seats in the audience. Paul and Keri, as Oberon and Titania, stood in opposite wings, waiting for their entrances.
Katie and her fellow fairy entered from stage left, I from stage right, vaulting, spinning, landing lightly on my feet. " 'How now, spirits, whither wander you?'" My voice came out strong-not with as much expression as I'd have liked, but I was in control. The fairies gave their speech about how they served Queen Titania and I began my account of Oberon and his feud with the queen-the speech that I had blown yesterday.
As I spoke my lines and worked on the balance beam, I became increasingly sensitive to the stage lights in my eyes. It was like watching a sunrise and suddenly having to look away from the brightness. I paused, took a deep breath, then continued on, " 'And jealous Oberon… And jealous Oberon'… Line."
" 'Would have the child,' * Brian said softly.
" 'Would have the child, Knight of his train to trace the forest wild.' " I knew where I was again and carried on, a little shaky, but determined.
The fairies spoke the next ten lines, leading up to my favorite speech, in which Puck tells of all the mischievous tricks he likes to play. We had woven lots of gymnastics into those lines. My first stunt was a cartwheel on the balance beam.
" 'Thou speakest aright,' " I began, " 'I am that merry wanderer of the-'" My right hand had just touched the beam. The stage lights flickered. A beat later my left hand touched. The lights went out. Total darkness. My left leg came around to find the beam but missed it. I slid off, banging my arm against the wood.
"Arthur!" Walker shouted.
"Jenny, are you okay?" It was Brian's voice.
"Fine. Fine." I was angry, not hurt. I should have been able to complete the wheel in darkness. It was a loss of concentration, my own fault.