I must have made a sharp movement, Natalie thought. I startled her and she instinctively lifted her ears and turned her head.

"Na-ta-lie. I know you hear me. Can't you see me?"

Natalie jumped. Blaine lunged, but Natalie clutched the leash. If the dog found the voice, the dog would die. She didn't know how she knew, but she did.

"Who's there?" Natalie could not get an exact fix on the voice although Blaine pulled toward the end of the room with the dais where the bands had once played "String of Pearls" and "Take the A Train."

"Aren't you going to answer, Na-ta-lie?"

Blaine pulled harder. Natalie shot the flashlight beam around the room. Cobwebs. Dust. Mildew.

The highly polished mirrored ball.

"Who are you?" Natalie asked, trying to steady her voice. She wouldn't run. She sat against a wall. Someone might be trying to lure her into the open.

"I'm Tamara."

Natalie's breath came hard and fast. "Stop it!"

"Their throat is an open tomb."

"You said that earlier on the phone. What are you talking about?"

"Romans, chapter three. It's about bad people. So many bad people in the Bible!"

Freezing water seemed to run down Natalie's back. That voice. So like Tamara's, so lost, so sad. And so frightening. She felt as if she were spiraling down into another world- a world of shadows and voices and bone-chilling cold.

The voice rose. "I want you to be with me, Natalie. And you will. Even if I have to kill you."

As Natalie's fear intensified, so did her instinct for self protection. In one smooth movement she lay the flashlight on her thigh, reached into her windbreaker pocket, and withdrew the gun.

"I'm armed," she said loudly, although her voice cracked. "Do you hear me? I have a gun and I will use it."

"You can't kill someone who's already dead."

A whisper of movement. Blaine growled, then barked ferociously. Natalie held tight to the leash as the flashlight dropped to the floor. She couldn't see, but she could hear something coming closer…

She aimed and fired.

Blaine hit the floor as the noise of the shot reverberated around the pavilion. For an instant Natalie feared her grip had wavered and she'd shot the dog. Then she looked at her hand. Level and steady. How many operations had she performed on animals? Steady hands were a necessity. Slowly Blaine stood up.

No answering cry of pain followed the gunshot. Somewhere a fog horn bellowed. Other than that there was only silence except for the loud breathing of Natalie and the dog.

"Are you still there?" Natalie asked with a quaver. "Are you hurt?"

Nothing. Blaine looked around, trembling. Natalie trembled, too, but she tried hard to control herself. "Are you hurt?"

Still no answer. Oh, God, what if there hadn't really been any danger? What if someone, maybe just a kid, had been playing a joke and she'd killed them? She should never have come in here.

She could not move. She was too frightened, too horrified at actually firing her gun at anything except a paper target. She sat motionless, the gun frozen in her hand as the seconds ticked by, trying to decide what to do. Then-

"Police!"

Her throat tightened, strangling a shriek. An urge to run madly from the pavilion took hold of her, but immediately she quelled it. She wasn't a criminal. She hadn't done anything wrong.

Except maybe kill someone.

"Drop your weapon! We're coming in!"

Natalie placed her gun on the table, pushed it an arm's length away, and sat rigidly in her chair as the front door opened. A man walked in, gun drawn. He shone his large flashlight around the room, then directly into her face. She squinted but didn't dare raise a hand to shield her eyes. "I put down my gun and I'm holding onto the dog," she called. "Please don't shoot."

A pause. Then: "Dr. St. John?"

She recognized his voice. "Sheriff Meredith."

"Who was shooting?"

"I was. Only once."

"You! What's going on?"

"Please take the light out of my eyes, but don't lower your gun. Someone is in here. Someone threatened to kill me."

The light shifted slightly. Blaine remained tensed and growled steadily. Natalie put a hand on her head to calm her. "Who is trying to kill you?" the sheriff asked.

"I don't know. There was a woman's voice. It seemed to be coming from the band area. I couldn't see anyone, though." She hesitated. "She said she was Tamara."

"Tamara? Tamara Hunt?"

That's it, Natalie said to herself. He thinks I'm drunk or crazy. "She said she was Tamara. Then I heard someone coming toward me and I fired."

"I see." The sheriff played the flashlight around the room, but whoever it had been was gone. Natalie knew that even before he searched the band area and backstage. "Back door is open," he said when he finally returned to her. "You didn't come in that way, did you?"

"No. I came in the front door. The padlock was open."

"So you just strolled in."

"I thought someone might be hurt."

"Come out to the car with me."

Natalie followed meekly. He'd yelled, "We're coming in," but he was alone. Clearly he didn't want whoever was inside to know he had no backup. In the patrol car she told him everything that had happened. When she finished, he was silent for a moment, staring straight ahead at The Blue Lady. Finally he said, "Do you know how dangerous it was for you to come here in the middle of the night?"

"I do now."

"But not before?"

"I had my dog. And my gun."

"I assume you have a permit for the gun."

"Absolutely," she said virtuously.

"But not a permit to carry."

"Well… uh… no. But I have completed a course in marksmanship and gun safety and I finished with flying colors."

"I'm thrilled for you," he said dryly. "You still broke the law."

"Are you going to arrest me?"

"I'm thinking about it."

Natalie's confidence fell further. Was carrying a weapon without a permit a felony or a misdemeanor? What was the sentence? Was she going to end up in jail because of her stupid night stroll?

"Look, Sheriff, I told you I wanted to walk but only in front of my house. Then the dog started barking and ran away. I followed her. She came to the dance pavilion."

"Why the pavilion?"

"I don't know. Maybe she was chasing whoever was inside. Maybe that person had been close to me-I couldn't see in the fog-then ran to the pavilion when the dog started barking."

"The doors were unlocked. Someone didn't decide to hide in there on the spur of the moment," the sheriff said slowly. "The whole thing could have been a set-up to lead you there."

"I guess you're right," Natalie said weakly, horrified by her close call.

"So the dog ran off, you went in hot pursuit, and then you charged into a deserted building. And then Tamara spoke to you."

"I did not charge into the building. I went in cautiously thinking maybe someone was inside and injured," she repeated. "And I told you the person said she was Tamara. I didn't say it was Tamara. I'm not a lunatic." He gave her a doubtful look that said he wasn't too sure. "Actually, the voice was slightly different than Tam's. It was more breathy. A little more dramatic." She hesitated. "I got a call this afternoon, supposedly from Tamara. I'm sure it was the same person."

"A call?"

"Yes. She talked about their mouth being an open tomb."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I don't know. It's something from the Bible. Romans, Chapter Three. She just told me that inside."

"I thought she said it on the phone."

"She said it again inside."

"Do you have any idea who made that call?"

"No. We don't have caller I.D. After she hung up I tried star-six-nine but was told that number was not receiving calls."