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Marilyn’s body. The plumbers and their mad descent. The message about Weiss.
    Mitchell sat at his kitchen table. His wife, Leann, was in the shower. She had just gotten home from her morning run. She knew of Marilyn, of course, and of the plumbers. But Mitchell had not spoken about Weiss. Nor had he mentioned anything about Dave’s theory concerning the long dead founder.
    With a sigh, Mitchell finished his coffee and looked down at the portable phone. Beside it, he had his address book, his cousin Brian’s information was before him.
    A large part of Mitchell refused to believe Weiss had come back. That he could come back. Then there was a small voice, little more than a whisper, who asked the question, But what if?
    Could it hurt? Mitchell asked himself. Is it really so difficult to call Brian and ask him to come down?
    Mitchell hated the idea of the supernatural. It was offensive, and it upset him.
    Yet is there another explanation? he wondered.
    Yes, he thought. All those lines to the sewer suddenly exposed. Toxic gasses. People could have adverse reactions.
    As quickly as the idea came, though, Mitchell dismissed it. He knew enough to know the gasses wouldn’t have made anyone either suicidal or homicidal.
    It could be coincidence , he argued.
    And then he shook his head. Are you really so proud you won’t call your cousin? Are you going to be embarrassed because you asked for some help with a strange situation?
    Mitchell looked at the phone, picked it up and dialed Brian’s number.
    I hope he’s awake, Mitchell thought, glancing at the clock. He thought about hanging up the phone, but even as he did so, Brian answered the call.
    “Mitchell?” Brian asked.
    “Hello, Cousin,” Mitchell said, using their old, familiar greeting.
    “Hey, everything okay?” Brian’s voice was heavy with both sleep and concern.
    “Not really,” Mitchell said, clearing his throat uncomfortably.
    “Leann okay?” Brian asked, fully awake.
    “Yes,” Mitchell said. “It’s nothing to do with the family, Brian. It’s the Academy.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    Mitchell told him. He told him everything, from the burst toilets to the deaths of the plumbers. Mitchell included every detail.
    “Are you going to school today?” Brian asked after a moment.
    “Yes,” Mitchell said. “I have to. The staff needs to be spoken with. We’re bringing in grief counselors. All the stuff that goes into a tragedy. Why?”
    “I just wanted to make sure you were there when I get in,” Brian said.
    “You’re coming down?” Mitchell asked, surprised and relieved at the same time.
    “Of course,” Brian said seriously. “I’m not going to let you hang out there in the wind, Mitchell. Give me about an hour to get ready and then I’ll be on the road. I’ll call your office phone when I hit the rest stop outside of Danielson. Figure I’ll get into the Academy around nine-thirty, maybe ten. All depends on the traffic in Worcester.”
    “Are you sure?” Mitchell asked, suddenly embarrassed.
    “Yup,” Brian replied. “Just make sure you’ve got a big pot of coffee on.”
    “I will,” Mitchell said.
    He and Brian said their goodbyes and Mitchell ended the call. He looked at the phone for a moment, and then he dialed Dave Licata’s number.
    “Hello?” Dave’s voice was thick with sleep.
    “Dave, it’s Mitchell.”
    “Mitchell? Is everything alright?” Dave asked, yawning.
    “Fine, Dave. Everything’s fine. Listen, I think you’re absolutely right about the supernatural angle. I went and got in touch with my cousin,” Mitchell said, clearing his throat uncomfortably.
    “You did?” Dave said, all sounds of sleep gone from his voice. “Is there anything you need me to do?”
    “No, no, nothing at all,” Mitchell said, forcing himself to sound more confident than he felt. “I would feel better if you would stay away from the school for a few days. I’ll be sending out an email to everyone telling them the police need the