Amber Crescent is near the southeastern corner of Diamond Park, Maryland. It runs west from Southfield Road, then turns south, then turns west again, and ends in a circle. In the center of the circle is a grassy area, and along one side of the grass stands a row of four Bradford pear trees. Forty-two houses, on quarter-acre lots, line the street, comfortable, moderate-sized houses built in the mid-1970s. The Devanoy family lived at 19036, on the south side just before the circle.

The Samaan family lived at 19017 Amber Crescent.

Hanna Samaan began worrying when her son Elias wasn’t home for Sunday dinner, but he’d missed dinner before, so she didn’t say anything to her husband. He was nursing a hangover, and in no mood to be bothered with such things.

Joe Samaan went to bed early, in hopes of feeling better by the time he had to leave for work in the morning. He hadn’t really noticed Elias’s absence.

Hanna sat up and waited.

It was almost midnight when the front door opened quietly, and she saw Elias’s familiar face peer in.

“Mom?” he said, “What are you still doing up?” His voice was oddly high-pitched – in fact, it sounded more like a woman’s voice. She’d thought he was well past that stage, and settled in with an adult tenor, but she guessed she’d been wrong – or maybe he’d been drinking or something.

“Waiting for you,” she snapped.

“You didn’t have to do that!” Something was definitely peculiar about his voice.

“Well, I did it,” she pointed out. “It’s about time you got home! I was worried!”

“Hey, I’m fine,” Elias said. “Oh, and I brought some friends with me – they’d just like to come in for a bite.”

Hanna wavered, thinking she really should order these friends, whoever they were, out – Elias had no business bringing anyone in at this hour! “One of them’s Bill Goodwin,” Elias said. “I don’t think you’ve met the other.”

Hanna knew Bill Goodwin, and considered him a good friend for her son to have. He was polite and helpful and showed no signs of drug use or thuggery, even if he did like that awful heavy metal music and spend an awful lot of time working on his car. She gave in.

“All right,” she said, “Bring them in.”

Elias stepped in. His clothes were a mess, dirty and even torn in places, she noticed, and she wondered what on Earth he’d been up to.

Not just dirty, filthy; and was that a bloodstain on his shirt?

Behind Elias, Bill Goodwin leaned around the door. “Hi, Mrs. Samaan!” he called.

Then the third one came in, the one in the slouch hat.

She stared at him, astonished.

“Hallowe’en isn’t for months yet!” she said.

Elias and Bill exchanged glances, smiling tight-lipped little smiles, smiles that could be called smirks. She noticed that Bill had a bandage on his neck, a rather large one, and his color wasn’t good. She blinked. Had the boys been up to something? That third one in the fright mask and the silly hat – she didn’t like it.

It was a very good mask, too. It looked almost real.

“Mrs. Samaan,” Bill said, stepping forward, “It’s great to see you, it really is.”

He smiled. “Let me give you a kiss.”

Chapter Seven:

Monday, August 7th

Bright and early Monday morning, Annie McGowan called up the Montgomery County police, and explained to the desk sergeant who took her call that someone had taken her sister-in-law’s place, and was living in Kate’s apartment, pretending to be Kate.

Yes, it looked like Kate, Annie agreed, but there was no doubt at all – it was not Kate. The imposter couldn’t knit, didn’t recognize a word of the little secret language the two of them used to have, didn’t remember anything about Kate’s dead brother, Annie’s husband – not even his name.

The sergeant referred her to a lieutenant, who, upon hearing the addresses involved, transferred her to a Lieutenant Buckley, who listened to the entire story without comment.

When she had finished, he sighed. “Mrs. McGowan,” he said, “I’ll tell you honestly, it sounds to me like your sister might have had a stroke or something, or maybe she’s got Alzheimer’s – isn’t that more likely than an imposter taking her place?”

“Likely or not, that thing’s not Kate,” Annie insisted.

“That thing? Come on, now, Mrs. McGowan!”

Annie realized her mistake; she would never convince anyone over the phone that the imposter wasn’t even human. “I’m sorry,” she said, “It’s just so upsetting to have someone there pretending to be her, when it isn’t really her at all!”

The lieutenant made a vague noise that might have indicated sympathetic agreement – or might have indicated only that he didn’t want to think about this nonsense. “I’m sure it is, Mrs. McGowan. Listen, I’ll send out one of my officers and a police psychiatrist, and you can go along with them to talk to your sister-in-law, and we’ll see if we can’t get this all straightened out.”

“A psychiatrist?” she asked doubtfully. Did this lieutenant think she was crazy? “Certainly,” Buckley said. “You don’t think that someone who would try to take your sister’s place is completely normal, do you?”

Slightly relieved, Annie had to concede that he had a point. She had been thinking the psychiatrist was intended to keep an eye on her, not on the false Kate.

Of course, in point of fact, she guessed that the psychiatrist would be watching both of them. The police didn’t know anything about her, and really, it was reasonable enough to doubt her story. “All right,” she said, “When should I expect them?”

There was a pause, and she could almost see the lieutenant glancing at a clock somewhere. “About ten-thirty, I’d say,” came the reply. “Does that suit you?”

“That would be fine, yes. Thank you very much.”

She hung up, and looked around the room.

Perhaps those men at the meeting had been right, perhaps the police weren’t going to help – but surely, if she just gave the police a chance to see what had happened…

Surely they would see.

Smith had slept from six until nine; he intended to be at work by ten, so he couldn’t really allow himself any more. Einar didn’t mind if he kept flexible hours, as long as they weren’t too far out of step, and as long as the programs he wrote did what they were supposed to and came in before deadline. Even so, Smith didn’t think anything later than ten would be a good idea.

An odd thing that was bothering Smith slightly was that for the first time since leaving his apartment he had gone an entire night without even the faintest suspicion of a glimpse of a nightmare person. Every other night, even if he hadn’t gotten a clear look at one, he had felt them out there, watching him – and he had usually gotten at least one clear look. The exact number and personnel had varied somewhat; he had seen Nora Hagarty and Walt Harris and Bill Goodwin once each, and of course that one that didn’t have a disguise yet, the one that always wore a slouch hat and had Smith’s own voice, had been there every time.

It had come looking for him every other night – but not last night.

Smith had sat up waiting for it, as he had the last few nights, but it had never come. He had spent the night watching TV, playing with his computer, thinking over the long, horrible day that had just ended, and the monster had never come.

Did Elias’s death have something to do with it, perhaps? It had been a different monster that had killed the boy, not the one that was after Smith, but perhaps there was some connection.

Smith couldn’t see what the connection would be, but perhaps there was one.

At nine-thirty in the morning, though, he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that. He was supposed to be getting to work and thinking about the program he was finishing up.