them in such a short time.
“Hi,” Kit said. “I brought you some dinner. Madame said you weren’t feeling well.”
Lynda was stretched out, fully clothed, upon the bed. She was wearing no makeup, and her hair lay oily and matted against
the pillow, as though she had not bothered to wash it for a long time.
She glanced at the tray and wrinkled her nose. “Thanks, but I really don’t want anything. I’m not at all hungry.”
“You need to eat,” Kit said. “You’re getting thin.” The words were true. Lynda’s eyes seemed huge in her pretty face, and
the delicate tracery of her cheekbones stood out beneath the normally perfect skin. Now that skin had a yellowish cast.
“I said, I’m not hungry,” Lynda said peevishly. “I’m just tired. I’ve been working hard.”
“I should say so, from the looks of things.” Kit nodded toward the picture on the easel. “That’s going to be nice.”
“Is it?” Lynda said. “I guess so.”
“What are you going to put over there?” Kit gestured toward an unfinished area in the foreground.
“How should I know? It’ll come to me when I get the brush in my hand.” Lynda turned her face away and threw an arm across
her eyes. “Take that food out of here, okay? I can’t stand the smell of it.”
Kit regarded her with concern. “I hope you’re feeling better tomorrow.”
“I will be,” Lynda said. “I’ll have to be. There’s so much to be done. He wants so much. There just isn’t any stopping.”
“ He? ” Kit caught at the word. “What do you mean? Who is it who wants so much?”
“Please,” Lynda said, “just let me be, won’t you? I’m so tired. We’ll talk another time, okay?”
“Okay.” Kit stood a moment longer, gazing down at the slender form on the bed. Was this Lynda Hannah, the bright-faced girl
with the lilting laugh, whose sole worry less than two months ago had been the fact that there was no Internet connection
and she couldn’t chat online? She’s changed, Kit thought. Not just a surface change, but all the way down inside. She’s not the same person .
“Lynda,” she said softly, “please, tell me. Something’s happened. Can’t you tell me about it?”
The girl on the bed did not answer. Her breathing was slow and deep, and Kit realized that she was already asleep.
Natalie was scraping plates when Kit brought the tray back down to the kitchen. She glanced at the untouched plate and shook
her head.
“Won’t eat, huh?”
“She says she’s tired,” Kit said.
“Funny,” Natalie said. “Nobody’s eating the way they used to, except for the men, maybe, and Madame herself. What’s with you
girls? All coming down with something?”
“I hope not,” Kit said, setting the tray on the counter. She paused, knowing that this was the opportunity for which she had
been hoping. “Natalie, can I ask you something?”
“You know I’m not supposed to spend time talking to you girls.” Natalie was silent a moment, then her curiosity got the better
of her. “What is it you want to know?”
“About Blackwood. It’s been here a long time, hasn’t it? You must have heard a lot of things about it.”
“It’s an old place, sure,” Natalie said. “But Blackwood is the new name for it. It used to be called the old Brewer place.
Nobody lived here then. It was all grown over so you could hardly see through the fence, just the roof sticking up.”
“How do you know?” Kit asked. “Did you look through the fence and see?”
“Well, we all did,” Natalie said, with a note of defensiveness in her voice. “All of us kids, I mean. There were so many stories
about it. Teenagers used to come up and park in the driveway.”
“Did you?”
“Once or twice,” Natalie said, flushing slightly. “Nothing happened. We didn’t see anything. I figured the ones who said they
did were just making up stories to scare the rest of us.”
“What did the others see, or pretend to see?”
“Hi,” Kit said. “I brought you some dinner. Madame said you weren’t feeling well.”
Lynda was stretched out, fully clothed, upon the bed. She was wearing no makeup, and her hair lay oily and matted against
the pillow, as though she had not bothered to wash it for a long time.
She glanced at the tray and wrinkled her nose. “Thanks, but I really don’t want anything. I’m not at all hungry.”
“You need to eat,” Kit said. “You’re getting thin.” The words were true. Lynda’s eyes seemed huge in her pretty face, and
the delicate tracery of her cheekbones stood out beneath the normally perfect skin. Now that skin had a yellowish cast.
“I said, I’m not hungry,” Lynda said peevishly. “I’m just tired. I’ve been working hard.”
“I should say so, from the looks of things.” Kit nodded toward the picture on the easel. “That’s going to be nice.”
“Is it?” Lynda said. “I guess so.”
“What are you going to put over there?” Kit gestured toward an unfinished area in the foreground.
“How should I know? It’ll come to me when I get the brush in my hand.” Lynda turned her face away and threw an arm across
her eyes. “Take that food out of here, okay? I can’t stand the smell of it.”
Kit regarded her with concern. “I hope you’re feeling better tomorrow.”
“I will be,” Lynda said. “I’ll have to be. There’s so much to be done. He wants so much. There just isn’t any stopping.”
“ He? ” Kit caught at the word. “What do you mean? Who is it who wants so much?”
“Please,” Lynda said, “just let me be, won’t you? I’m so tired. We’ll talk another time, okay?”
“Okay.” Kit stood a moment longer, gazing down at the slender form on the bed. Was this Lynda Hannah, the bright-faced girl
with the lilting laugh, whose sole worry less than two months ago had been the fact that there was no Internet connection
and she couldn’t chat online? She’s changed, Kit thought. Not just a surface change, but all the way down inside. She’s not the same person .
“Lynda,” she said softly, “please, tell me. Something’s happened. Can’t you tell me about it?”
The girl on the bed did not answer. Her breathing was slow and deep, and Kit realized that she was already asleep.
Natalie was scraping plates when Kit brought the tray back down to the kitchen. She glanced at the untouched plate and shook
her head.
“Won’t eat, huh?”
“She says she’s tired,” Kit said.
“Funny,” Natalie said. “Nobody’s eating the way they used to, except for the men, maybe, and Madame herself. What’s with you
girls? All coming down with something?”
“I hope not,” Kit said, setting the tray on the counter. She paused, knowing that this was the opportunity for which she had
been hoping. “Natalie, can I ask you something?”
“You know I’m not supposed to spend time talking to you girls.” Natalie was silent a moment, then her curiosity got the better
of her. “What is it you want to know?”
“About Blackwood. It’s been here a long time, hasn’t it? You must have heard a lot of things about it.”
“It’s an old place, sure,” Natalie said. “But Blackwood is the new name for it. It used to be called the old Brewer place.
Nobody lived here then. It was all grown over so you could hardly see through the fence, just the roof sticking up.”
“How do you know?” Kit asked. “Did you look through the fence and see?”
“Well, we all did,” Natalie said, with a note of defensiveness in her voice. “All of us kids, I mean. There were so many stories
about it. Teenagers used to come up and park in the driveway.”
“Did you?”
“Once or twice,” Natalie said, flushing slightly. “Nothing happened. We didn’t see anything. I figured the ones who said they
did were just making up stories to scare the rest of us.”
“What did the others see, or pretend to see?”
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