…My senses had been on high alert. Had the killer's been, too? Had the person maybe smelled that I was in the house and abandoned whatever it was he'd come to do? Or had he gone around back to surprise me?

These were not comforting thoughts.

I rubbed my arms and started looking for the phone book, but there wasn't one anywhere in sight. It was as if I'd dreamed the whole thing up. Still, I lifted the receiver of the phone that the mystery person must have used and hit the redial button.

And bingo! The line was ringing on the other side. I felt triumphant. As though, in a scant second or two, I'd know who had really done it to Nika and why. And then I'd tell the police and I'd get them to release poor Lola. I'd be a hero. There'd be a ticker-tape parade. I'd go on all the talk shows, probably get a citation from the Prez.

The ringing stopped. Then there was that hollow, vaguely tinny sound that you get when someone's answering machine has taken the call.

Sure enough, a bright little voice began…:

"Robin Vaughan here…well, not actually here but sort of here, either out in the barn or puttering around in the garden. So if you need to talk to Jeet or me…"

I wondered, Why would a killer be calling me?