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in,” Jody said.
    Andy, still gasping on the floor, shook his head. Sweat dripped off his hair as if he’d just stepped out of a shower. His jeans hung low, showing where his tan ended. The skin of his back was ruddy and wet, crisscrossed with welts and scratches. “Maybe not,” he gasped.
    “We’re witnesses. They’ve gotta kill us.”
    “Nobody’s going to kill anyone,” Mrs. Youngman said. Sniffing, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “The both of you come with me. We’ll call the police this instant.”
    Andy pushed himself off the floor. He backhanded sweat out of his eyes. His chest and belly looked worse than his back.
    “What happened to you?” Jody asked.
    “Went through some bushes. Fell. Couple times.” He grinned. “Really gave ’em a run.”
    “Let’s not dally,” Mrs. Youngman said. She led the way. She wore a pale blue nightgown. Jody, hurrying after her, saw that the back of it had a wet place down below her rump.
    “I’m really sorry I scared you that way.”
    “Hush about it.”
    “I’m not a jerk. I don’t do stuff like that. I just ... I kind of went nuts for a second. You know? Those guys, they’re like ... Do you have a gun?”
    “I most certainly do not.”
    “Does your son? Does he keep one around for ...”
    “Guns are for killing, young lady. My Ernest is a healer.” She stepped through an archway into a dark room and reached toward the wall. A moment later, a chandelier bloomed light.
    Following Mrs. Youngman alongside a big oak dining table, Jody looked for a telephone.
    She didn’t see one.
    Who ever heard of a phone in the dining room, anyhow?
    “Where is it?” she asked.
    The old woman turned around. “Don’t you listen? You should listen when you’re spoken to.” On the second “listen,” she pecked Jody in the chest with her forefinger.
    “Hey,” Jody said.
    “Don’t you ‘hey’ me.” Two more pecks. Her fingernail was long. Jody could feel its curved end jabbing through the thin fabric of her nightshirt. She knew it must be making little crescent dents in the skin between her breasts.
    This is crazy, she thought.
    “I’m sorry,” she said.
    “You young people think you’re so smart, you never listen to anyone.” She pecked Jody again. “What did I tell you?”
    “About what?”
    Another peck.
    “Mable,” Andy said. “Quit doing that to her.”
    Mrs. Youngman ignored him and jabbed Jody four more times as she explained, “I told you. I think I made myself quite clear on the matter. My Ernest doesn’t keep guns in his house.”
    “I know!”
    “If you know, why did you persist in asking me where ... ?”
    “The telephone. The telephone! I wanted to know where the telephone is!”
    “I know where the telephone is. That’s where we were going before you began pestering me.”
    “I’m sorry,” Jody said. “I won’t pester you again. But we’d better hurry.”
    Mrs. Youngman turned around and resumed walking. “There’s no call to hurry,” she said. “The house is all locked up safe and sound. We’ll be perfectly fine until the police arrive.”
    “The police,” Jody said, “don’t actually show up the instant you call.”
    Mrs. Youngman scowled over her shoulder.
    If she stops again, I’m gonna knock her down and find the phone myself.
    She kept walking.
    “Are you being smart with me, young lady?”
    “No.”
    “Her dad’s a cop,” Andy explained.
    “That explains a great deal,” Mrs. Youngman said, and stepped through a doorway at the end of the dining room.
    The light came on, and Jody followed her into the kitchen. She walked close behind her. She had an urge to smack the back of her head, just a quick swat with her open hand.
    “There’s nothing wrong with my dad,” she said.
    “I’m sure.”
    Jody saw Mrs. Youngman’s reflection off to the right in the glass of the sliding door beyond the breakfast table. First a side view, then a front view. The image of the old woman was very distinct,