Ted lapsed into one of his dramatic pauses that drove Nick wild. One day he'd snap, draw his gun, and shoot the deputy. Then he'd be arrested and thrown in his own jail. Until that day he would force himself to smile placidly and ask the expected questions. "What about the skull, Hysell?"
"It's human. Male." Ted leaned over the desk, flipped through the pages of the report, and emphatically tapped his fingers on a photo of the skull. "According to the M.E. about fifty years old."
"Is it the skull of a fifty-year-old male or a fifty-year-old skull?"
"Huh? Oh, he didn't say. Anyway, there's not a bit of dirt on it. He said it was a fine specimen-almost antiseptic. His word."
"Interesting."
"Just 'interesting'? Sheriff, it was once somebody's head" Ted said portentously.
"Most human skulls were."
"Yeah, but you don't find them laying around everywhere. Who do you suppose dug this up?"
"I don't believe anyone dug it up." Nick held the photo of the skull under his desk light and looked at it closely. " 'Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy.' "
After a moment Ted said carefully, "Sheriff, you think you know who this person was? Some guy named Yorick?"
Nick exploded into laughter. Ted recoiled, stung. "Sorry, Ted, I'm so tired I'm giddy. I was quoting the little bit of Shakespeare I know."
"Oh, Shakespeare," Ted said disdainfully. "I never liked him myself. He took forever to say anything. I mean, why didn't he just say it instead of talking in circles? I think he must have been getting paid by the word."
"So you don't read Shakespeare's sonnets to Dee?"
Ted relaxed and smiled. "She'd kick me all around the room if I tried anything so sissy. Besides, I only know one poem. 'The Charge of the Light Brigade.' Had to memorize it in eighth grade and I never could get rid of it."
Ted made the poem sound like a bad cold he couldn't shake. " 'Charge of the Light Brigade' isn't too romantic. Better to stick with flowers and candy."
"Yeah. Maybe I should try some flowers," Ted said unhappily. "She might like flowers."
Nick looked at him sharply. So Ted already sensed there was trouble in Paradise. Did he know the trouble involved Jeff Lindstrom?
"Where's your dad tonight?" Jimmy asked.
"Out looking for that girl. Alison something. Mrs. Collins was talking on the phone and she said Alison was crazy as a loon. I read about loons in the encyclopedia. The article didn't say anything about loons being crazy."
"I told you not to read so much and who cares about loons, anyway?" Jimmy held up the Polaroid. "Got my dad's camera again. Tonight's perfect for going to the Saunders house and getting a picture of the killer."
Paige ran the toe of her tennis shoe over a clump of crabgrass. "It's kind of early."
"Yeah, but it's been a gloomy day. It's almost dark an hour earlier than usual. Besides, your dad's gone and Mrs. Collins will be jabbering on the phone for hours about this crazy Alison person. It's the perfect time." He paused. "Unless you're too scared."
Paige's blue eyes flared. "I told you I'm not scared!"
"My mom says actions speak louder than words. If you're scared, you can just stay here and I'll tell you all about taking a picture of a murderer. It won't be as exciting as being there…"
"I have a feeling I'll get caught."
"You always have a feeling you're gonna get caught and you never do." Jimmy draped the camera strap around his neck and hopped on his bike. "Are you coming or not?"
Paige looked up at the dreary, pewter sky. All day Mrs. Collins had predicted rain, but it had never come. The hours had simply spun out in gloomy endlessness. She was bored.
She wanted to please Jimmy. Getting a picture of a mad killer was the chance of a lifetime.
"Okay, I'll come," Paige sighed.
She climbed on her bike and pedaled behind Jimmy. As she passed the lighted kitchen window, she saw Mrs. Collins sitting at the table talking animatedly into the phone receiver. She'll never miss me, Paige thought.
Andrew had been called back to the hospital for an emergency surgery at six. He hadn't wanted to leave Natalie alone and suggested she come with him. "Dad, you could be in surgery for hours," she'd said. "I don't want to spend the whole evening sitting in your office. I'll be fine here." He'd fussed because the locks had not yet been changed but at last gave up when he saw she was determined not to accompany him.
Now she rinsed the plate from which she'd eaten her elaborate dinner of a grilled cheese sandwich and potato chips. Blaine sat nearby, alternately gazing at her and the package of jerky strips lying on the counter. "You've already had dinner, so two jerky strips for dessert. That's it," Natalie pronounced,, knowing that before bedtime Blaine would be enjoying at least two more strips and a couple of giant biscuits. She needed to gain five to ten pounds before she reached normal weight.
After giving the dog her treat, Natalie wandered into the living room and turned on the television. Kenny used to annoy her by flipping from channel to channel. Now she did the same. Fifty channels and she couldn't find one program that interested her. She was too restless to concentrate.
The phone rang. It was Nick calling to tell her Jeff Lindstrom was Constance Farley's nephew, but he hadn't been seen since Nick chased him down after Tamara's funeral over sixteen hours ago. Alison had been missing almost as long. Maybe a coincidence. Hopefully a coincidence. "I'll be working all night," he said tiredly. "Mrs. Collins is thrilled."
"And Paige will be just as delighted to be spending the evening with her," Natalie pointed out. "I have an idea. Your daughter doesn't go to bed early, does she?"
"Only under duress. I don't worry about it too much when she's on summer break from school. I guess that's lax of me."
"I never had a set bedtime."
"And just look how you turned out," Nick said dolefully.
"You are a laugh riot, Sheriff. Anyway, I promised Paige a guitar lesson. Since I'm alone and she's probably bored, how about my giving a lesson tonight?"
"She'd love it. And I'd love knowing you were with her. With everything that's going on…"
"There's safety in numbers," Natalie finished for him.
After they hung up she called the Meredith house and got a busy signal. Ten minutes later she tried again. Still busy. Probably Mrs. Collins. She decided to simply get her guitar and go.
Blaine watched her rummage in a storage closet for the first guitar she'd ever owned-a Yamaha compact classic. Kira had given it to her for her sixth birthday. She'd been thrilled, so thrilled she not only practiced constantly but actually tried to sleep with the guitar. Her talent and devotion to the instrument pleased Kira. "Yeah, it pleased her so much she took off five months later," Natalie muttered, then forced her thoughts away from her mother. She scribbled a note for her father and grabbed her coat. Blaine drooped behind her to the door, gazing at her with tragic eyes. "Okay, Sarah Heartburn," Natalie laughed. "I have no idea how you and Ripley the cat will get along, but I guess we'll find out. Besides, I don't like the idea of leaving you alone in this house again."
Blaine immediately perked up at the sight of her leash and trotted happily to the car. Natalie felt as if she'd always owned the dog, and Blaine acted as if Natalie had always been her mistress. But she had placed the lost dog ad less than a week ago. Someone could call tomorrow and reclaim Blaine, Natalie reminded herself. Could she bear to give her up? If this were a beloved dog that had gotten lost, she would have no choice. But if she sensed the dog had been dumped…
"If you were dumped, the person who dumped you won't call," Natalie said as they drove toward the Meredith house. Blaine cocked her head as if she understood every word. "And if you merely got lost from a loving home, I don't think you would have bonded to me so quickly." She sighed. "You're a mystery, Blaine, one of many lately, and I've found out they're more fun to read about than to live."