Ridiculous. My sixteen-­year-­old son a hypnotist? He had written that he was meeting the man outside the house, hadn’t he? Maybe it was that man, and not Mrs. Reddy, that I had seen with him the night after Jack’s accident.

I went back downstairs, put on my glasses and picked up my sewing basket. Jack was still scribbling on his yellow pad. I sat on the settee near him and began mending a torn blouse.

After a while, he got up, picked up his crutches and said he was going to bed. I said I thought I would wait for Duff and Stephanie to come in. I was trying to seem calm about it, but I didn’t feel that way. I was frightened and I grew more so as time went by and neither of them returned.

I kept listening for the sound of motorcycles on the road, but it never came. I repaired the first blouse and then another and then a number of torn shirts, socks and sweaters that had been collecting in my basket since before we left the East. The work wasn’t my best, but it kept my hands from trembling.

After a while I dozed off, but I was sure it was for just a few minutes. I did have a terrible dream, although I couldn’t remember the details of it later. My glasses had slipped off and I looked for them behind the settee, but there wasn’t enough light to search properly. Then I went out to the kitchen to check the time on Aunt Hannah’s old wall clock. It was three o’clock.

Where was Duff? Where was Stephanie? I went to her room next to the kitchen, but she wasn’t there. Were she and Duff together somewhere?

I went upstairs and opened his door. He was in bed asleep, or pretending to be. I stood by his bed and watched him for a long time. Just as I was about to turn away, I saw his lips move, although his eyes remained closed.

He said very distinctly, not in Duff’s voice but rather the voice of the man in the car, “People in this house are going to die.”

“Who, Duff?” I whispered.

“Maybe John . . . maybe others.”

“When, Duff?”

He didn’t say any more. I put my hand on his forehead and he stirred a bit, but he still didn’t open his eyes.

“Duff, why did you say that?”

There was still no answer. I waited a minute or two longer and then went to my bedroom. I guess I was sobbing because Franny awakened.

“Mother, is something wrong?” she asked.

“No, I’m just overly tired, that’s all.” I undressed and got into bed with her. “Did you hear Duff come in tonight?”

“Yes, a long time ago,” she said.

“How long?”