Jenny stood up, shaking her head. Not David, she told herself. Not him. But why not? Just because he'd kissed her? Just because she was half crazy about him twenty minutes after they first met?

What about the second time they met, when he'd come back to the diner, and the third, when he'd followed her into town? She thought he was mad at her those times, or had changed his mind about her. But now she realized there might be another reason

for the way he'd acted. Pushing her to remember what she'd heard, asking her if she'd seen Diana, acting so jumpy, so secretive -- he could have a secret, all right. A deadly one.

**You don't really know him," she said aloud. **You don't really know any of them."

The breeze picked up, blowing the wind chime and making its bell-Uke notes ring out more clearly. Jenny listened gratefully to the sound, wishing it were even louder, so loud it would drive everything else from her mind. She didn't want to be thinking these thoughts, suspecting people, feeling terrified. If she told anyone, they'd probably think she was crazy.

Half an hour before, she probably would have agreed. But not now. Not since she'd remembered that other voice, and knew that someone had been with Diana on the bluff. No one could convince her she was crazy now. But there was no one to tell, either.

Again, Jenny felt an overwhehning urge to run -- anywhere -- but there was nowhere to go. If only she had a friend, a safe place to go to, just for a while, until she could decide what to do. Her eyes burning, her throat dry, she stumbled into the house and gulped down two glasses of water, then bent over the sink as her stomach heaved. She didn't get sick, but she felt so lightheaded that she lurched into the living room like a cartoon-drunk and fell onto the couch.

Finally her head stopped spinning, and she sat

up and looked around. Through the windows, she could see the rimrocks blazing red from the setting sun. She turned away from them, and as she did, she saw that the answering machine's light was on. While she was out on the porch, so caught up in her horrible, logical thinking that she wouldn't have heard the ringing phone, someone had called and left a message.

She pushed herself off the couch, walked to the desk, and punched the button.

"Jenny? Did you like the music? When I saw the chime and heard the sound it made, I thought of you. I hope you like it. That's why I'm calling."

There was a pause. Jenny stared at the phone, feeling her tension start to ease. His voice was so friendly, so warm, she wished it could keep her company all night long. All night? Could she really stay in this house alone for another night, knowing what she knew?

"No." His voice was a Uttle stronger now. "That's not why I'm calling. Not the only reason, anyway. I think... I know these phone calls and the presents must seem hke a joke to you. I hope they don't, but I wouldn't blame you if they did. They're not a joke, Jenny, but they are getting laughable."