They came before noon, spent an hour looking around the house and yard, then left. Probably it would be safe now to return to the house, she thought, but she did not stir from her hole in the hill. They returned shortly before dark, and spent more time going over the same ground they had covered before. Now she knew it was safe to go to the house. They never went out after dark, except in groups; they would not expect her to wander about in the dark alone. She stood up, easing the stiffness out of her legs and back. The ground was damp, and this spot was cool, sheltered from the sun.

She lay on the bed. She knew she would hear him when he entered the house, but she couldn't sleep, except in a fitful, dream-filled doze: Ben lying with her; Ben sitting before the fire sipping pink, fragrant tea; Ben looking at her painting and becoming pale… Mark scrambling up the stairs, his legs going this way and that, a frown of determination on his face. Mark squatting over a single leaf of a fern, still rolled tightly at the end, and studying it intently, as if willing it to uncoil as he watched. Mark, his hands pudgy and grimy, gleaming wet, pushing the clay this way, smoothing it, pushing it that way, frowning at it, oblivious of her…

She sat up suddenly, wide awake. He had come into the house. She could hear the stairs creak slightly under his feet. He stopped, listening. He must sense her there, she thought, and her heart quickened. She went to the door of the workroom and waited for him.

He had a candle. For a moment he didn't see her. He put the candle down on the table and only then looked around cautiously.

"Mark!" she said softly. "Mark!"

His face was lighted. Ben's face, she thought, and something of hers. Then his face twisted and when she took a step toward him, he took a step backward.

"Mark?" she said again, but now she could feel a hard, cold hand squeezing her heart, making it painful for her to breathe. What had they done to him? She took another step.

"Why did you come here?" he yelled suddenly. "This is my room! Why did you come back? I hate you!" he screamed.

Chapter 19

The cold hand squeezed harder. Molly felt for the doorframe behind her and held it tightly. "Why do you come here?" she whispered. "Why?"

"It's all your fault! You spoiled everything. They laugh at me and lock me up…"

"And you still come here. Why?"