"And her niece?"
"I barely know her."
"But what's she Me?"
Ben gave up; Mary, for all her childish voice and moods, could be as relentless as water dripping on stone when she wanted something. "She looks a lot like Miss Melton, yes. Black hair, gray eyes. Smaller, though, and more fragile."
"Alexandra was a bit fey. Is her niece? And what is her name anyway?"
"Her name is Cassie Neill." Ben frowned. "I wasn't aware you knew Miss Melton except by name."
"We talked a few times over the years. For heaven's sake, Ben, you can't live in a town this size and not know most of the people, not if you've been here nearly forty years."
He nodded but said, "What do you mean by 'fey'?"
"Well, just that. She knew things. Once, she told me to hurry home because Gretchen – Butch and Sunny's mother, you remember her – was having her puppies and there was trouble. There was too. I lost her and had to hand-rear the boys."
One of the boys thumped his tail against the tile floor, and the other yawned hugely as Ben glanced at them. Looking back at his mother, he said, "I'd heard a few stories about her seeming to know things and didn't really believe them. But Cassie says her aunt was supposed to be able to predict the future."
"Then maybe she could. Can Cassie?"
Ben shook his head. "No."
"Because you don't believe it's possible, or because she told you she couldn't?" Mary asked, intent.
"Because she told me she couldn't." Ben didn't see any reason to tell his mother that Cassie's psychic skills lay in quite another direction.
Mary was disappointed. "Oh. I was hoping maybe she could."
"So she could tell your fortune?" Ben asked dryly.
Mary lifted her chin. "As a matter of fact, Alexandra did that. After the thing with the puppies, I asked her if she could tell me anything about my future. She sort of laughed, and then she said that because of my son, I'd meet a tall, dark, and handsome man I'd fall madly in love with and soon marry."
It sounded so much like the sort of stock prediction common in sideshow fortune tellers' tents that Ben could say only, "Oh, for God's sake, Mary."
"It might come true, you don't know."
Ben sighed. "Sure it might."
She stared at him. "You know, son, you are far too cynical even for a lawyer."
Since she called him "son" only when she was seriously annoyed with him, and since Mary annoyed with him could lead to uncomfortable interludes in his life, Ben said contritely, "I know. Sorry, Mary. I'm just not sure I believe in precognition, that's all." And it was the truth, even if not all of it.
Somewhat mollified, she said, "You should open up your mind, Ben. Your imagination."
"I'll work on that."
She eyed him. "You're just humoring me."
"For your sake, I hope Miss Melton's prediction comes true. If I notice a tall, dark stranger lurking around, I'll definitely invite him here for supper."
"Now I know you're just humoring me." But she seemed more amused than annoyed.
Accustomed to her swift changes of mood, Ben merely said, "Not at all. Fix this chicken dish for him, and I can guarantee he'll be impressed. You're a great cook and you know it."
"Umm." She sipped her wine, her eyes bright as she watched him across the table. "Can Cassie cook?"
"I wouldn't know."
"You like her, don't you?"
"Yes, I like her." He kept his voice patient and matter-of-fact. "No more and no less."Liar. "Stop matchmaking, Mary. The last time – " He bit off the rest, but it was too late.
Mary's face changed, and her eyes filled with quick tears. "I was so hoping you and Jill would stay together.
She was such a sweet girl, Ben. Even after you broke up she came to visit me and talk about you…."
He hadn't known that. It seemed that Cassie had been right yetagain when she had told him that Jill was an ex-lover not yet ready to let go. "Mary – "
"Who could have done that to such a sweet girl, Ben? And Ivy and that poor girl Becky? What's happening to this town? Who will that monster kill next?"
"Everything will be all right, Mary."
"But – "
"Listen to me. Everything will be all right." Recognizing the signs of rising hysteria in his mother, he set himself to the task of reassuring her. He kept his voice level and calm, his words encouraging, and refused to allow her to work herself into a state of panic that would demand sedatives and his presence in the house overnight; it was a condition he knew her quite capable of achieving.
And not for the first time he felt a flash of reluctant sympathy for his dead father.
NINE
FEBRUARY 24, 1999
"You're in my way, you know." Cassie gently nudged the German shepherd-collie mix to one side so she could open the bottom drawer of the storage chest.
Max whined softly and sat down, watching her with bright, attentive eyes. After a couple of nights and days together, they were growing accustomed to each other, but the young dog was clearly worried by the fact that Cassie was spending so much time digging through drawers and closets. Not that he could be blamed for that, since his original owners had abandoned him when they moved away.
Cassie spared a moment to stroke his head and murmur reassuringly. She had tried explaining that she would not leave him as his former people had, but discovered not only that canine minds were unreadable – at least by her – but also that it was difficult to explain verbally to a dog that she was only sorting through heraunt's things, boxing up what was to be thrown away, given away, or stored.
She wondered if Abby was having an easier time with the full-blooded Irish setter she had fallen in love with.
"Well, maybe I've done enough today anyway," she decided. "There are those boxes full of papers downstairs – I can go through them tonight and it probably won't upset you too much. In the meantime, why don't we go fora walk?"
The magic words lifted Max's head eagerly, and he preceded her out of this spare bedroom and downstairs. Cassie didn't put the dog on a leash; she had already discovered that he'd had basic obedience training and, besides, he tended to stick quite close to her when they were out.
She got her quilted jacket off the stand by the front door. It was only three in the afternoon, but the forecast was for snow and both the icy air and low, thick gray clouds said that the weather bureau might have gotten it right this time.
It was the kind of weather Cassie loved. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat and struck out across the fields near the house, walking slowly as she divided her attention between Max's happy exploration of every rock and hole in the ground and the spare, naked beauty of her surroundings.
It was easy to forget about… other things.
The killer had remained quiet these last days. As far as they knew, he had not killed again – and Cassie had not gotten so much as a whisper from his mind.
That was a silence she could only be happy about.
If the investigation was making progress, she didn't know any of the details. The sheriff had not been in touch. Ben had called the previous afternoon, to checkon her he said, and he was relieved to hear she had adopted a dog. He hadn't been able to tell her anything about the investigation; another tricky case was keeping him in court more than he had expected, and he'd gotten little opportunity to talk to Matt. He had sounded tired and a little restless.
The newspaper hadn't had much to say either beyond a few stark facts. Becky Smith had been buried, but funerals for the other two victims were postponed indefinitely while the search for evidence continued.
Probably smart of the sheriff, but the lack of closure was not helping the mood of the townspeople. With two bodies lying in refrigerated storage at one of the local undertaker's and a visibly increased police presence throughout the county, no one was going to forget the potential threat. No curfew had been declared, but the newspaper reported unusually quiet streets after dark and women traveling in pairs, groups, or with male escorts virtually at all times.
If Cassie had been an optimist, she might have brought herself to hope that the killer had left and moved on to other hunting grounds. She was not an optimist. And she was more than half convinced the sheriff was right, that this killer was local, someone born and bred in the area. And still there. Somewhere.
Realizing what she was doing, acknowledging silently that it was not, after all, so easy to forget, Cassie pushed thoughts of the killer firmly from her mind. "Enough," she said out loud.
Max dashed up to her with a stick, and she spent the next fifteen minutes or so throwing it for him. She tired of the game before he did; he was still carrying the stick in his mouth when Cassie started back toward the house.
He dropped it the instant he saw the Jeep parked in the driveway, and his full-throated barks rang out across the field, oddly hollow in the cold, still air. Cassie saw Ben come down the steps from the porch and look in their direction, and caught Max by the collar to keep him by her side.
"Max, heel," she told him firmly. He stopped barking but was growling low in his throat by the time they got within a few feet of the visitor.
"Hi," she greeted Ben.
"Hi." He was eyeing the dog. "Well, he's big enough. Does he bite?"
"I don't know yet, though the shelter said he was gentle as a lamb the whole time they had him." Cassie glanced down at the still-growling dog. "Abandoned by people who apparently just didn't want to move him along with the furniture."
"It happens, sad to say. At least our shelter doesn't put them to sleep."
"That's what they told me." And that the younger Judge Ryan had been partly responsible for the shelter's policy of never euthanizing healthy animals – an interesting insight into his character. "Abby adopted one too, did you know?"
"Matt mentioned it." Ben smiled. "A very large Irish setter who loves to sleep with Abby. Matt wasn't entirely happy about that."
"I'll bet." Cassie wondered if Abby had confided in the sheriff about the prophecy but decided not to ask.
Max's growl got louder.
"You'd better introduce us," Ben said.
Cassie had little experience with dogs, but knew instinctively how it needed to be done. She told Max to sit, keeping one hand on the dog, and gestured for Ben to step closer. When he did, and after only the slightest hesitation, she reached out and took his hand. It was very warm, even on this cold winter day.
"Max, this is Ben," she said steadily. "He's a friend." She guided Ben's hand close enough for the dog to sniff. Max either liked the way this new person smelled or else accepted Cassie's reassuring touch; his tail thumped against the frozen ground and the growling stopped.
Ben petted the dog with a casual yet experienced ease and spoke to him kindly. By the time he straightened, Max was completely relaxed.
"So far so good," Cassie said. She released the collar, and they watched as he went to investigate the tires of the Jeep.
"We'll see how he greets me next time." Ben paused. "Does he sleep with you?"
Cassie decided not to take the question too personally. "He has a bed of his own beside mine. So far, he's stayed in it."
Ben nodded. "I'm glad you got him."
"So am I." It was the truth. She had discovered it was pleasant to have an attentive and undemanding companion who listened when she talked. And it had surprised her how much she had talked to the animal.
"I'm sorry to drop in on you without calling." Ben's voice held that same restless note she had heard when he had called the previous night. "But I was out this way, and – "
Cassie allowed the silence to last only a moment. "It's cold out here. Why don't we go inside? It'll just take a few minutes to warm up the coffee."
"That sounds good. Thanks."
Max left off investigating the Jeep to accompany them, and as usual followed Cassie into the kitchen.
"He sticks close," Ben observed from the doorway.
"So far." She glanced at Ben, reading more tension in his posture, and said, "I was planning to light a fire in the living room fireplace. How are you at getting them started?"
"Fair." He smiled.
"Then you get the job. It always takes me way too much newspaper and kindling."
"I'll see what I can do."
By the time Cassie came into the living room carrying a tray, Ben had the fire going briskly. He had shed his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and was standing by the fireplace, loosening his tie. Cassie put the tray on the coffee table and sat down at one end of the sofa.
"I think there's a knack to lighting fires," she said, pouring the coffee. "I don't have it. You obviously do. Thanks."