Jolene saw Mace Carpenter writing like crazy. Amy Brooks was also writing. Thad and Luke were mugging faces at each other. Codi Fox was staring at the ceiling, but Jolene could see her mind working.

“I need the next segment of your stories tomorrow, so keep up the momentum.”

“Do we really have to write something every night this week?” Thad asked.

“Yes—and this weekend you will write the ending, to be turned in on Monday for a total of six parts of the story.”

Thad and Luke groaned.

“That’s why you have to brainstorm more ideas,” Jolene said. “Open your mind to new possibilities. What kind of trouble can your character get into? Today is only Thursday. You have another night. Now make a list. I want at least ten things that could happen before you leave today.”

She waited until each student had at least ten things written down before she dismissed the students for recess. She hadn’t planned to read any of the stories until later at home. But she had to see if the murder story was in the stack.

Hurriedly she thumbed through them, trying to keep an eye on the door just in case one of the parents should stop by. Ben Carpenter’s visit yesterday had spooked her. That and realizing that the author of the story was probably now keeping an eye on her just as he had Laura Beaumont, twenty-four years ago.

She was trying to imagine Ben authoring the story when, with a start, she realized the murder-story installment wasn’t in the stack.

Frantically, she leafed through the stack again, this time more slowly. With relief she found it sandwiched between sixth-grader Codi Fox’s and eighth-grader Mace Carpenter’s.

Her heart sped up again. Had Mace turned this in with his? Then she remembered that Luke Raines had been gathering the assignments and putting some on the top of the stack and others on the bottom.

She thought about picking up the assignments herself tomorrow, but that might alert whichever student was bringing the extra copy. No, she didn’t want to call attention by changing things. The chosen student enjoyed being the one who got to collect the papers each day. Tomorrow though, she would pay more attention when the student was collecting the stories.

She pulled out the murder story, glancing toward the door before she read the installment quickly, guiltily.

Dusk had settled over the land, but the heat was relentless as her lover sneaked away from the old farmhouse, believing she loved him and only him.

She stood at the window and watched him go, but he hadn’t gone far down the road before a restlessness overtook her again.

She pulled the lightweight yellow robe around her. Her favorite color, yellow. She liked it because she said it made her feel good.