"Did you get the police?" she called before Lily reached her.

"I got some deputy at first. He seemed to think I was joking. Some joke," Lily said roughly. "Then Sheriff Meredith got on the phone. He didn't ask a lot of stupid questions. He said he'd be here immediately." She stopped in front of Natalie, white to her lips as if every ounce of blood had drained from her usually vibrant face. "And I called Dad."

Oliver Peyton was a descendent of Port Ariel royalty. He'd inherited money, but it hadn't stopped him from pursuing his law practice with a vengeance. He had a reputation for being frighteningly intelligent and a dreaded opponent in the courtroom. Natalie remembered him as slim, dapper, and haughty.

"Is your father on his way?" Natalie asked.

"He was out. The housekeeper, Mrs. Ebert, went to pieces, but I told her she had to pull it together and locate Dad and Warren. She thinks she knows where Warren is staying in Cleveland." She raised her hands helplessly. "I feel like I should be doing something else for Tam."

"There isn't anything else to do. You've called the right people and you're staying with her."

"I haven't even looked at her."

"You don't need to."

"Is it that bad?" Lily's eyes met hers and Natalie nodded reluctantly. "The vultures?"

"Yes. But she was dead when they came. She didn't feel them."

"We can't be sure of that. We can't be sure of anything." Lily's bleak gaze trailed the length of the thick limb covering her sister. "Tam hated storms. Why would she stay out here until the lightning got close enough to strike the tree?"

Natalie didn't want to bring up her theory that a falling limb didn't kill Tamara, and raise questions she couldn't answer. "You know how fast storms come up around here."

"Not so fast Tam couldn't get back to her house. It's nearly in sight."

"I don't know, Lily. Maybe she went to Ariel Saunders's house, stayed too long, and got caught in the worst of the storm."

"The worst of the storm didn't hit until around ten. She would have been home waiting for Warren 's call."

"We were in Panache. We don't know exactly when the storm was at its worst here."

"But-" Lily broke off and her face crumpled. A long, racking sob shook her. Natalie rushed to her, catching her before she fell, and gently lowered her to the ground. Another sob tore at Lily's throat. "Oh, Nat, I can't believe it. My little sister. She was three minutes younger, you know. Three minutes…"

"I remember," Natalie said gently, rocking Lily's shuddering body.

"We were more than sisters. We knew what the other was thinking, feeling. We knew when the other was in trouble. At least Tam knew when I was in trouble."

"You knew about her, too. You knew something was wrong last night. That's why you kept dreaming about the dog."

"But I didn't see Tam in the dream!"

"You can't tear yourself apart because you're not completely psychic. And Tamara probably died instantly. You couldn't have saved her."

"You don't know that!"

Natalie felt huge relief when she heard sirens. Thank goodness help was coming because she didn't know how much longer she could keep Lily from getting hysterical. A police car was first to arrive. Lily must have given them precise directions because they pulled onto Hyacinth Lane, not Tamara's driveway. An ambulance followed close behind.

"I don't think I can talk to anyone," Lily quavered.

"I'll handle it." Natalie watched a tall, slim man with black hair emerge from the police car. She stood up as he approached.

"Miss Peyton?" he asked in a deep voice.

"No, Natalie St. John. This is Lily Peyton." She motioned to Lily sitting limply on the grass. "She's not feeling well. I found Tamara."

His deep blue eyes flashed to Lily, then back to Natalie. "How long ago did you discover Mrs. Hunt?"

"Around twenty minutes."

"Did you touch anything?"

"No. She turned and looked at the tree limb. The dog sat beside it as if on guard. "She's partially under there."

"Is that your dog?"

"No, it's a stray. I think it found Tamara last night…" She trailed off, not wanting to explain about the blood on the dog's neck. "We're trying to locate Mrs. Hunt's husband."

"All right." He looked at Lily and said in a gentler voice, "I'll have to ask you a few questions later, Miss Peyton."

Lily nodded. He turned to Natalie. "Will the dog bite?"

"I don't think so, but I'll call it, anyway." She whistled. The dog responded hesitantly as the sheriff, a deputy, and emergency technicians headed for the body. Natalie sank down on the grass beside Lily. Another police car arrived. More deputies spilled from it. She stroked the dog's head as they watched the police peer through the leaves and the honeysuckle. Someone began taking photos from all angles. Natalie pictured exactly what they were seeing. Thank goodness Lily couldn't.

"I wish Dad were here," Lily said dully. "He always knows what to do. I'm no help at all."

"Even your father couldn't help, Lily. It's all up to the police now."

"But this isn't really a police matter. It was an accident. I don't understand why they're taking all those pictures."

Because they aren't sure what happened, either, Natalie thought uneasily. "The police come even if it's an accident. Besides, they have to retrieve Tamara's body."

"What's goin' on?"

A strikingly good-looking boy of about twelve stood in front of them, balancing his bike beside him. Natalie hadn't noticed his arrival.

"There's been an accident," she said. "You really shouldn't be here."

"Is someone dead?" the boy asked, his dark eyes snapping with excitement.

"Yes. Now please-"

"Jimmy!" A woman strode down the lane. Jeans covered her ample thighs and her denim shirt hung free. "I told you to stay away from here."

"Mom, someone's dead!" the boy called.

"Dead! Oh my!" She halted. She had a tired prettiness with dark eyes like the boy's, only hers were surrounded by faint shadows of fatigue. She looked at Lily. "Tam-no, Lily?"

"Yes, Beth." Lily turned to Natalie. "This is Beth Jenkins, Tam's neighbor."

"What's wrong?" Beth asked, coming toward them. "Jimmy said someone's dead."

"It's Tam," Lily said shakily. "She's under that limb."

"Mrs. Hunt?" The boy's face blanched, the excitement fading from his eyes. "Tamara?"

"I'm afraid it is," Lily said.

Beth's hand flew to her mouth. She looked fearfully at the police gathered around the site. "What happened?"

Before anyone could answer, someone called out, "Do the Hunts have a chain saw in their garage?"

Lily shrugged. "I don't know."

"We've got one," Jimmy Jenkins said. "I know right where it is."

Sheriff Meredith glanced up. "Hello, Jimmy," he called. "Sure your dad has a chain saw?"

" 'Course I'm sure. Are you sure that's Tamara? I mean, she's too young to be dead. And too nice. Maybe it's somebody we don't know," he ended hopefully.

"Jimmy, we'll worry about positive identification later," the sheriff said with a trace of sympathy in his voice. "Let's get that chain saw now."

He spoke to two deputies, who immediately walked toward Jimmy. 'Follow me," Jimmy directed unnecessarily and he took off on his bike.

Beth twisted her hands together. "Lily, what can I do? Bring you some tea or lemonade? It's getting hot and you look like death. Oh!" Distress flashed across her face. "I didn't mean that. You look lovely. Both you and Tamara are such pretty girls. She came over yesterday and she was positively glowing. Oh! I can't say anything right!" A tear ran down Beth's right cheek. "I'm sorry. I just can't believe this. She was so kind. I'm so busy with the other kids. Jimmy was always dropping in on her. She gave him lemonade and cookies and talked to him and never complained about him being a pest. I think he had a crush on her. Oh, this is awful!"