"Oh hi, Professor Gold."

Lucy kept silent.

"Class ran late, I'm so sorry. And then I had this other project due tomorrow. And I figured it was late and you'd be gone and it could just wait till tomorrow."

She was babbling. Lucy let her.

"Do you want me to stop by tomorrow?" Sylvia asked.

"Do you have time now?"

Sylvia looked at her watch without really looking at it. "I'm really so crazy with this project. Can it wait until tomorrow?" "Who is the project for?" "What?" "What professor assigned you the project, Sylvia? If I take up too much of your time, I can write them a note."

Silence.

"We can go to your room," Lucy said. "Talk there."

Sylvia finally met her eye. "Professor Gold?"

Lucy waited.

"I don't think I want to talk to you."

"It's about your journal."

"My…?" She shook her head. "But I sent it in anonymously. How would you know which is mine?" "Sylvia-" "You said! You promised! They were anonymous. You said that."

"I know what I said."

"How did you…?" She straightened up. "I don't want to talk to you." Lucy made her voice firm. "You have to." But Sylvia wasn't backing down. "No, I don't. You can't make me.

And… my God, how could you do that? Tell us it's anonymous and confidential and then…"

"This is really important."

"No, it's not. I don't have to talk to you. And if you say anything about it, I will tell the dean what you did. You'll get fired." Other students were staring now. Lucy was losing control of the situation.

"Please, Sylvia, I need to know-"

"Nothing!"

“Sylvia-“

"I don't have to tell you a thing! Leave me alone!" Sylvia Potter turned, opened the door, and ran away.

After Flair Hickory finished with Chamique, I met with Loren Muse in my office. "Wow," Loren said. "That sucked." "Get on that name thing," I said. "What name thing?" "Find out if anyone called Broodway 'Jim' or "Ј" as Chamique insists, he went by James." Muse frowned. "What?" "You think that's going to help?" "It can't hurt." "You still believe her?" "Come on, Muse. This is a smoke screen." "It's a good one." "Your friend Cingle learn anything?" "Not yet."

The judge called the court day over, thank God. Flair had handed me my head. I know that it is supposed to be about justice and that its not a competition or anything like that, but let's get real.

Cal and Jim were back and stronger than ever. My cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. I didn't recognize the number. I put the phone to my ear and said, "Hello?" "It is Raya." Raya Singh. The comely Indian waitress. I felt my throat go dry. "How are you?"

Fine. "Did you think of something?" Muse looked at me. I tried to look at her as if to say, this is private.

For an investigator, Muse could be slow on the pickup. Or maybe that was intentional. "I probably should have said something earlier," Raya Singh said. I waited.

"But you showing up like that. It surprised me. I'm still not sure what the right thing to do is." "Ms. Singh?" "Please call me Raya." "Raya," I said, "I have no idea what you're talking about." "It was why I asked why you were really there. Do you remember?" "Yes."

"Do you know why I asked that – about what you really wanted?" I thought about it and went with honest: "Because of the unprofessional way I was ogling you?" "No," she said. "Okay, I'm game. Why did you ask? And come to think of it, why did you ask if I killed him?" Muse arched an eyebrow. I didn't much care. Raya Singh didn't reply. "Miss Singh?" Then: "Raya?"

"Because," she said, "he mentioned your name."

I thought that maybe I'd heard wrong, so I asked something stupid. "Who mentioned my name?" Her voice had a hint of impatience. "Who are we talking about?" "Manolo Santiago mentioned my name?" "Yes, of course." "And you didn't think you should tell me this before?" "I didn't know if I could trust you." "And what changed your mind?" "I looked you up on the Internet. You really are the county prosecutor."

"What did Santiago say about me?"

"He said you lied about something."

"About what?"

"I don't know."

I pushed ahead. "Who did he say it to?"

"A man. I don't know his name. He also had clippings about you in his apartment." "His apartment? I thought you said you didn't know where he lived."

"That's when I didn't trust you."

"And you do now?"

She did not reply to that one directly. "Pick me up at the restaurant in one hour," Raya Singh said, "and I'll show you where Manolo lived."

When Lucy came back to her office, Lonnie was there, holding up sheets of paper.

"What's that?" she asked.

"More of that journal."

She tried hard not to snap the pages from his hand.

"Did you find Sylvia?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And she went crazy on me and won't talk."

Lonnie sat in the chair and threw his feet up on her desk. "You want me to try?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Lonnie gave her the winning smile. "I can be pretty persuasive."

"You're willing to put out just to help me?" "If I must."

"I would worry so about your reputation." She sat back, gripping the pages. "Did you read this already?" "Yep." She just nodded and started in for herself:

P broke our embrace and darted toward the scream.

I called after him, but he didn’t stop. Two seconds later, it was like the night had swallowed him whole. I tried to follow. But it was dark. I should have known these woods better than P. This was his first year here.

The screaming voice had been a girl's. That much I could tell. I trekked through the woods. I didn't call out anymore. For some reason I was scared to. I wanted to find P, but I didn't want anyone to know where I was. I know that doesn't make much sense, but that was how I felt.

I was scared.

There was moonlight. Moonlight in the woods changes the color of everything. It is like one of those poster lights my dad used to have. They called them black lights, even though they were more like purple. They changed the color of everything around them. So did the moon.

So when I finally found P and I saw the strange color on his shirt, I didn't recognize what it was at first. I couldn't tell the shade of crimson. It looked more like liquid blue. He looked at me. His eyes were wide.

"We have to go," he said. "And we can ft tell anyone we were ever out here.

That was it. Lucy read it two more times. Then she put the story down. Lonnie was watching her. "So," he said, dragging out the word, "I assume that you are the narrator of this little tale?"

"What?"

"I've been trying to figure this out, Lucy, and I've only come up with one possible explanation. You're the girl in the story. Someone is writing about you."

"That's ridiculous," she said.

"Come on, Luce. We have tales of incest in that pile, for crying out loud. We aren't even searching those kids out. Yet you're all uptight about this scream-in-the-woods story?"

"Let it go, Lonnie."

He shook his head. "Sorry, sweetie, not my nature. Even if you weren't superfine and I didn't want to get in your pants." She didn't bother with a retort. "I'd like to help if I can."

You cant.

"I know more than you think."

Lucy looked up at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"You, uh, you won't get mad at me?"

She waited.

"I did a little research on you."

Her stomach dropped, but she kept it off her face.

"Lucy Gold isn't your real name. You changed it."

"How do you know that?"

"Come on, Luce. You know how easy it is with a computer?"

She said nothing.

"Something about this journal kept bugging me," he went on. "This stuff about a camp. I was young, but I remember hearing about the Summer Slasher. So I did a little more research." He tried to give her the cocky smile. "You should go back to blond."