May had been a good tenant all these months—quiet, pleasant, paid her rent on time. Mrs. Bourne hastened to the chair. “May, are you sick? Shall I call someone in your family?” Then, she remembered that May had given her not a family name but a funny name, Amelia Declose, as the person to call in case of emergency. Why would a McCorkle not provide the name of someone in her family, when there was a whole peck of ’em living over in Madison County? Something was fishy. May remained frighteningly immobile and said not a word. Whatever trouble the woman was in, Mrs. Bourne didn’t want to know. She minded her own business, never got involved with tenants. Still, she asked, “May. You sick?”

When May did not respond, Mrs. Bourne left the room. She got the number May had given her from a book on her desk and walked straight to the phone.

Amelia checked her camera bag for sufficient film and batteries. Mike had nagged her to get with it, to move into the twenty-first century with digital, and she had purchased an expensive five-pixel digital camera. Though it was lighter and easier to carry, she preferred her old Pentax. Today she would be working in Pisgah Forest in dim light and she wanted all the control a manual camera afforded. Picking up her tripod, she started for the front door.

The phone rang. Amelia let the machine take it and stopped in her tracks when she heard a woman’s high-strung, alarmed voice.

“I’m looking for somebody name of Amelia Declose. May McCorkle here rents a room from me, and she’s looking sick like a dog. Won’t talk or nothing. You get this message, call me back, or come quick as you can.” The woman gave her phone number, plus sketchy directions from Patton Avenue, and hung up before Amelia had time to set down her equipment and reach the kitchen phone.

What had happened to May? Was she sick, or was this related to their conversation about Denny Ledbetter? Amelia went cold. May had said that she had a crush on Denny Ledbetter. Amelia had made light of it. Should she call Denny and see if he would go into Asheville with her? What was she thinking? No! Where was Grace? At the school, tutoring kids? With Bob, and if so, where? Grace would handle this or any situation better than she could. But Grace was not here. Amelia phoned Miriam, who had planned on going with her today.

“Miriam, dear, I have a friend in Asheville. Her landlady called. My friend is ill. I have to cancel our photo jaunt. No, dear, I think I best go alone, but thank you for offering to go with me. Yes, let’s plan on shooting tomorrow. I don’t think there’s any rain in the forecast.”