Jake Perkins figured the number of mourners at Alison Kendall's grave at less than thirty. The others had all elected to go directly to the brunch. Not that he blamed them. The rain was picking up. His feet were sinking into the soft, muddy grass. There's nothing worse than being dead on a rainy day, he thought, and hoped he'd remember to jot down that bit of wisdom later.

The mayor had skipped this event, but President Downes, who had already extolled the generosity and talent of Alison Kendall, was now offering a generic prayer that was sure to satisfy everyone except an out-and-out atheist, if one happened to be present.

She may have been talented, Jake thought, but it was her generosity that has us out here risking pneumonia. I know one person who didn't risk it. He looked around to be sure he had not missed Laura Wilcox, but she definitely wasn't there. All the other honorees were present. Jean Sheridan was standing near President Downes, and there was no question she was genuinely sad. A couple of times she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. Everyone else in the group looked as if they wished Downes would wrap it up quickly so they could get inside and have a Bloody Mary.

"We remember also Alison's classmates and friends who have been called home," Downes said soberly: "Catherine Kane, Debra

Parker, Cindy Lang, and Gloria Martin. This graduating class of twenty years ago produced many great achievers, but also never before has one class known such great loss."

Amen, Jake thought, and decided he would definitely use the picture of the seven girls at the lunch table with his story on the reunion. He already had the caption-Downes had just handed it to him: "Never before has one class known such great loss."

At the beginning of the ceremony a couple of students had handed a rose to each of the people who came to the memorial service. Now, after Downes concluded his remarks, one by one everyone placed the rose at the foot of the tombstone and started to walk across the cemetery to the adjacent school grounds. The farther they got away from the grave, the faster they moved. Jake could read their minds: "Well, thank God that's over. I thought I'd freeze."

The last one to leave was Jean Sheridan. She stood there, looking not just sad but deep in thought. Jake noticed that Dr. Fleischman had stopped and was waiting for her. Sheridan reached down and touched Alison's name on the tombstone, then turned, and Jake could see that she seemed glad to see Dr. Fleischman. They began to walk toward the school together.

Before he could stop her, the sophomore who was handing out the roses had given him one. Jake wasn't much for ceremonies, but he decided to leave his rose with the others. As he was about to put it down, he noticed something on the ground. He bent down and picked it up.

It was a pewter lapel pin in the shape of an owl, about an inch long. Jake could see at a glance that it wasn't worth more than a couple of bucks. It looked like something a kid or some nature lover who was on a crusade to save owls might wear. Jake was about to toss it away, then changed his mind. He brushed it off and put it in his pocket. It would soon be Halloween. He'd give it to his kid cousin and tell him that he had dug it out of a grave just for him.

Jean was disappointed that Laura had not bothered to attend the memorial service for Alison, but she also realized that she was not surprised. Laura had never put herself out for anyone, and it was silly to think that she might begin at this stage of her life. Knowing Laura, she wasn't going to stand out in the cold and rain-she'd go directly to the brunch.

But by the time the brunch was half over and Laura had not appeared, Jean felt the beginning of deep unease. She confided that feeling to Gordon Amory. "Gordon, I know you were talking to Laura a lot yesterday. Did she say anything to you about not showing up today?"

"We talked at lunch yesterday and at the game," he corrected. "She was campaigning to get me to make her the lead in our new sitcom. I told her that I never interfere with the people I hire to cast my programs. When she continued to persist, I rather unkindly emphasized that I never made exceptions, particularly for minimally talented school chums. At that point she used a rather unladylike expression and turned her charms on our insufferable chairman, Jack Emerson. As you may know, he has been bragging about his considerable financial assets. Also, last night he gleefully announced that his wife had just left him, so he was fair game for Laura, I guess."

Laura seemed to be in wonderful spirits at dinner, Jean thought. And she was fine when I tried to talk to her in her room before dinner. Did anything go wrong later last night? Or did she just decide to sleep in this morning?

I can at least check on that, she thought. She was sitting next to Gordon and Carter Stewart at the luncheon table. With a murmured "Back in a minute," she walked between the rows of tables, taking care not to make eye contact with anyone. The brunch was being held in the auditorium. She slipped into the corridor that led to the homeroom of the freshman class and dialed the hotel.

Laura did not answer the phone in her room. Jean hesitated and then asked to be switched to the front desk. She identified herself and asked if by any chance Laura Wilcox had checked out. "I'm a little concerned," she explained. "Ms. Wilcox was supposed to meet a group of us and hasn't shown up."

"Well, she hasn't checked out," the clerk said genially. "Why don't I send someone up to see if she's overslept, Dr. Sheridan. But you take the blame if she gets mad."

He's the guy whose hair matches the top of the desk, Jean thought, recognizing both the voice and the tone. "I'll take responsibility," she assured him.

As she waited, Jean glanced around the corridor. God, I feel as though I never left this place, she thought. Ms. Clemens was the homeroom teacher when we were freshman, and my desk was the second seat in the fourth row. She heard the door from the auditorium open and turned to see Jake Perkins, the reporter from the school newspaper.

"Dr. Sheridan." The clerk's voice had lost its jocular tone.

"Yes." Jean realized she was gripping the phone. Something's wrong, she thought. Something's wrong.

"The maid went into Ms. Wilcox's room. The bed hasn't been slept in. Her clothes are still in the closet, but the maid did notice that some of her toiletries that were on the vanity are gone. Do you think there's a problem?"

"Oh, if she took some things with her, I would say not. Thank you."

That's all Laura would need, Jean thought, for me to be asking questions about her if she went off with somebody. She pushed the button on the cell phone to end the call and snapped the cover closed. But who would she have been with? she wondered. If Gordon was to be believed, he had brushed her off. He said that she'd been flirting with Jack Emerson, but she certainly hadn't neglected Mark or Robby or Carter, either. Yesterday at lunch she was joking with Mark about how successful his show was and saying that maybe she should go into therapy with him. I heard her telling Carter she'd love to do a Broadway show, and later she was in the bar with Robby for a nightcap.

"Dr. Sheridan, may I have a word with you?"

Startled, Jean spun around. She'd forgotten about Jake Perkins. "I'm sorry to bother you," he said unapologetically, "but I wonder if you can tell me if Ms. Wilcox is planning to show up here today."

"I don't know her plans," Jean said, smiling dismissively. "Now I really must get back to the table."

Laura probably got friendly with one of the guys at the dinner last night and went to his place with him, she thought. If she hasn't checked out, she's bound to show up at the hotel later.