"Be careful," Ames told him. "From what you said, it sounds like Randy Stevens all over again. And if it is, JeffLaConner should be considered very dangerous."

Kennallywas silent for a moment, then grunted and hung up.

Did Ames really think he was telling him anything he didn't already know?

Even now, nearly a year after it had happened, he could still remember the night Randy Stevens cracked up. It had been a quiet night in Silverdale, at least until around eleven o'clock, whenKennally had gotten a call from theStevenses ' neighbors, reporting a disturbance. It had struckKennally as odd, since in the two years theStevenses had been in Silverdale they had never been anything less than model citizens. Randy, indeed, had been the boy other Silverdale parents always pointed to as a role model for their own children. Handsome, polite, an A student-Randy had been the star of the football team as well.

And never caused so much as a hint of a problem for either his parents or anyone else.

But that night something had snapped in Randy, and whenKennally arrived at theStevenses, a small crowd of frightened onlookers had already gathered around the house.

Inside the house it was apparent that a major fight was taking place.

WhenKennally forced his way in, he found Phyllis Stevens, her face bleeding, sobbing on the sofa in the living room. In the den, Tom Stevens and Randy were struggling on the floor.

Except that it wasn't really a struggle, for Tom was sprawled on his back, doing his best to fend off a rain of furious blows as his son straddled him, pounding at him mercilessly.

Kennallyhad known instantly that this was no simple fight, no argument between father and son that had gotten out of hand. For there was a look in Randy's eyes-a cold emptiness-that toldKennally that Randy wasn't even aware of what he was doing.

His mind was gone and he was simply lashing out at whomever was at hand.

It had taken three men to subdue the boy, and he was finally taken away from the house strapped to a stretcher. At TomStevens's request, Randy had been taken to the sports center and put under the care of Marty Ames.

The next morning Randy was transferred to the mental hospital at Canon City.

Though such a thing had never happened before in Silverdale, Marty Ames had explained that it wasn't all that uncommon. Randy, after all, had always been too perfect, meeting his parents' every expectation. But along with those expectations there had been pressure, and Randy never allowed himself to vent that pressure. And so, finally, he turned on his parents, his emotional structure collapsing in a shambles.

He had tried to kill them.

He had almost succeeded.

And now, tonight,Kennally could see the parallels between Randy Stevens and JeffLaConner quite clearly.

Overachievers, both of them.

Neither of them ever in any trouble, neither of them ever showing signs of problems.

When Randy had finally blown, he'd come close to killing his own father.

Would Jeff have actually killed Mark Tanner tonight?Kennally didn't know, but he suspected he might well have done exactly that, given the chance.

So he would, indeed, take Ames's advice, and consider JeffLaConner extremely dangerous.

It promised to be a long night.

MacMacCallum smiled encouragingly at Mark Tanner, who was lying on his back on the examining table. The boy's chest was heavily taped, but Mac had assured him that none of his ribs was actually broken. Four of them, however, were cracked, andMacCallum had warned him that they would hurt for a while, especially if he laughed, coughed, or sneezed. Now he was working on Mark's face, carefully stitching up the cut over his right eye. "Only a couple more stitches and we'll have it," he said. "How're you holding up?"

Mark winced as the needle penetrated his skin once again. "Okay," he said between his clenched teeth. "Next to Jeff, this is a piece of cake."

Mac said nothing more until he'd taken the last stitch, tied off the thread with a neat surgeon's knot, then covered the stitches with a bandage. Mark started to try to raise himself to a sitting position, butMacCallum stopped him.

"Just lie there. I want to take some more X rays."

"How come?" Mark asked. "Nothing's broken, is it?"

"Not that I can see from the outside,"MacCallum agreed. "But judging by what happened to your face and your ribs, it seems a good idea to take a look." In fact,MacCallum was almost certain the boy's jaw had sustained a hairline fracture, and there was still a strong possibility of internal injuries, particularly to the boy's kidneys and spleen. He washed his hands, then picked up Mark's chart and began writing instructions on it. When he was done, he handed the chart to the night-duty nurse, Karen Akers. "Can you handle all that?"

Karen glanced quickly down the chart, then nodded. Disappearing into the corridor, she returned a moment later, wheeling a gurney in front of her. Holding it steady next to the examining table, she helped Mark transfer himself. Mark winced at almost every motion, but when he'd finally made it, he forced himself to grin at the nurse. "See? Nothing to it. I could run a ten-K if I had to."

"Right," Karen replied dryly. "But the question is, can you hold still while I take your picture?"

MacCallumfollowed them into the corridor, but as they turned right toward the X-ray room, he took the other direction. A few seconds later he entered the waiting room where the Tanners and theHarrises were waiting. In the far corner he also recognized ChuckLaConner.

"Is he all right?" Sharon asked anxiously.

MacCallumglanced once more at ChuckLaConner, then turned his attention to Sharon. "All things considered, I'd say he doesn't look too bad." He detailed the stitching and bandaging he'd already done, summarizing Mark's injuries in the most reassuring way he could. "Of course," he went on, "I'll want him to stay the night, just so I can keep an eye on him. He's in X-ray right now, and we'll know a lot more after we see the results of those." Raising his voice, to be absolutely certain that ChuckLaConner would hear what he said next, he added, "Frankly, considering what happened to him, he's in pretty good shape."

Sharon's eyes clouded. "Considering what happened?" she repeated. "What does that mean?"

"Considering it was JeffLaConner he ran up against,"MacCallum said heavily. "The last boy who came in here wasn't so lucky."

"Now wait a minute," ChuckLaConner interrupted, rising to his feet and taking a step toward the doctor. "Everybody knows what happened to the Ramirez kid wasn't Jeff's fault."

The color drained from Sharon's face, and her eyes shifted quickly betweenLaConner and her husband. "Rick Ramirez?" she asked, her voice hollow. "The boy who's in a coma?"

MacCallumnodded briefly.

Sharon's legs suddenly felt weak, but she refused to allow herself to drop back onto the sofa. Even angrier now, she turned to Blake. "I thought you told me the Ramirez boy was an accident victim," she said, a note of uncertainty in her voice, as if she were trying to put something together in her mind.

"He was-" Blake began, butMacCallum interrupted.

"He may have been," he corrected.

ChuckLaConner's eyes were blazing now. Before he could say anything, however, Sharon Tanner whirled on him, furious. "Is that what you want us to say happened to Mark, too?" she demanded. "That Jeff accidentally beat him up? And what about your wife?" she added, her voice bitter. "Was that an accident too?"

Blake stared at his own wife in bewilderment. "His wife?" he echoed. "Honey, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about JeffLaConner," Sharon said, her voice harsh with anger. "Mark's not the only person he beat up, you know." She turned again, her eyes fixing on ChuckLaConner once more. "Or are you going to claim that was an accident, too?" she demanded.