She looked up at the house. It was quiet without the incessant hiss of Carla's cutting torch. The mysterious statue under its cover resembled nothing she had ever seen and seemed to grow taller and slimmer by the day.

She had to get back to Amity. She loved it here, but she was an extra mouth to feed. Michael would never let her pay her way, and Brody's tiny pension would hardly help if he did. Even doing windows and babysitting, she was just another drag.

If she went back to Amity and got the Taylor house through escrow, maybe she could return next year for a long, happier stay.

She wished she'd seen Hoagie Newcombe again. Maybe Michael had scared him off.

All at once she heard a droning from out of the west. She looked toward Nassau. Under the rolling thunderheads a little silver plane took shape, flying low.

It flashed into the scalloped crescent of the cove and bore toward the beach she was on. The throb of the propeller lessened, then quit. The cove was silent, except for the whisper of the slipstream past the wings. The plane banked and spiraled downward, obviously heading for her.

"You nut," she murmured. As the plane straightened out along the beach she saw Hoagie in the cabin, flipping her a wave.

Then the engine coughed, caught, and rose to a crescendo. A wing flailed at the sky, and he was suddenly waltzing over the lagoon. He climbed high beyond the reef, flung the plane on its back, and dived, inverted, for the water.

"Oh, God—oh, no!" she breathed. She couldn't stand it if he crashed. At the very last moment the plane pulled out and tore across the lagoon. He worked the throttle as he passed, blasting her ears with the sound.

As he flew past the children in the next cove, she could see Thea and Deenie jumping up and down, waving like excited scarecrows at the sight. He skimmed Masthead Point and disappeared toward the airstrip, wagging his tail like a dog.

Suddenly she saw Deenie grab at Thea, as if to stop her. Thea dodged her and ran for the bush in the direction in which he had flown. She was heading for the scrub pine on Masthead Point. Concerned, Ellen hurried back. Deenie was digging sullenly at the castle moat.

"Why did she run off like that?" demanded Ellen. "Where'd she go?"

"She jes' run off," mumbled Deenie. "I don't know."

"Come on. We're going to find her." She started toward the Point, slogging through the fine, white sand as quickly as she could.

They found Thea returning from the Point, on a trail through the scraggly scrub. She was whipping with a stick at the bushes and seemed angry.

Ellen took her hand. It was hot and moist. Thea didn't look well; she was pale beneath the tan. With Deenie holding Thea's other hand, they started toward the house.