“No,” Rose said. “No psychic messages.” Grace opened her mouth in protest, wanting to tell all about how Rose and Jerram used to say they could read each other’s minds, but Rose gave her a hard, warning look.

“Let’s go, Grace,” she urged, and Grace reluctantly heaved herself out of the uncomfortable chair.

“Thanks, girls. Come back to see me if you remember anything about the night Nancy disappeared.”

“I suppose you believe poor Wallace Romola did it,” Grace said over her shoulder as a feeble parting shot.

Detective O’Hara didn’t answer. Outside in the hall, Grace blew out her cheeks and fanned herself. “What a bitch.”

“It was a silly idea to come here.”

“You should have let me tell her about you and Jerram.”

“It would only have made things worse. Besides, that’s sort of typical with twins. We’re tuned into each other, or at least we were. It’s not the same as getting a message from the dead.”

Grace shivered. “Oooh, don’t put it that way.”

“But that’s what it is, isn’t it, if Nancy is really buried in a pine woods somewhere?”

“I guess.”

“Let’s just forget it.”

“But shouldn’t we do something?”

“What can we do?”

Grace thought a moment and shrugged helplessly, her face pinched.

“Listen, Nancy’s alive —just wait and see,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as comfort Rose. “They have posters as far away as New York. I heard somebody called from there and said they saw her at the Port Authority bus station — that’s a place where all the runaways hang out. Maybe Nancy was a secret druggie.”

Rose squeezed her hand. “It’s all right, Grace. Let’s forget it.”

“You said that before. But neither one of us is forgetting it.”

Grace shoved her hands down inside the pockets of her yellow jacket and marched along. Rose promised herself she wasn’t spending another minute thinking about Nancy Emerson. She wasn’t hysterical with fear as O’Hara implied, didn’t imagine danger was lurking all over Bethboro. The town looked the same. And nobody else had disappeared.

Since the detective hadn’t been the chain-smoker Grace feared, she could go home without washing her long black hair. Rose trudged along to her own house, refusing the temptation to find the spot where she’d encountered Nancy last year. Jerram wanted to know all about the visit to the police.

She told him what had happened. “So that’s it. There’s nothing more I can do.”

“There is one thing …” Jerram said.

“No, thanks, I’ve got a history paper due.”