She could sense him nearby, almost as though he was hovering right over her body like a wave of hot sunlight.

She swung her head about, peering into the clearing, into the forest, the tall grass.

More footsteps, leaves rustling, twigs snapping.

(So: He doesn't fly, he doesn't materialize, he doesn't float. He walks. That's okay.)

Sarah looked for the glow of sun as he approached but she could see nothing except trees and branches, leaves, grass, shadows. The footsteps grew closer. Hesitant, uncertain. Then she saw him – a figure in the woods, coming slowly toward her, picking his way through the brush. He seemed less like a wizard than, well, a big man tromping noisily through the forest. (That's okay too.)

"I'm over here. Here!" She stood up, waving her arm.

He paused, located her and slowly changed direction, pushing aside branches.

She picked up the stuffed bear and ran toward him. She shouted, "I'm here!"

A sheet of bright green leaves lifted aside and the deputy stepped out, brushing dust and leaves off his uniform.

"Tom!" she cried, her heart sinking.

"Hey, missie, how'd you get here without getting all messed up?" He picked a leaf out of his hair then swatted his forehead. "Skeeter." He examined his palm.

Crestfallen, Sarah stared up at him.

"You're not supposed to be out here, you know. You could get me in a whole mess of trouble. You're supposed to stay close to the house. Anyway, 'nough said. Your mom wants to see you now. You've got an appointment at the doctor's, she says."

"I can't come right now." She scanned the forest. He's leaving! I can tell the deputy scared him off.

"Well, I don't know," Tom said patiently. "Your mother told me to fetch you."

"Not now, please? Just a half hour?" She was close to tears.

"That's a cute little fellow you've got there. What's his name?"

"Chutney."

"How about if you and Chutney come home now and afterward you come back here with me and I'll keep an eye on you? How'd that be?"

When she didn't answer, the deputy said, "Your mom'll be pretty unhappy with me if I don't bring you right now, like she asked. You don't want her to have words with me, do you?"

It was true. If she didn't come now, if she missed the appointment with Dr. Parker, her mother would be furious with the deputy. Sarah couldn't stand the thought of anyone being mad because of her. People hated you when you made them mad, they laughed at you.

She looked around her once more. The Sunshine Man was gone now. He'd fled and was far away.

"Why you looking so sad, little lady?"

"I'm not sad." Sarah walked through the grass. "Come this way. It's easier." She led him out of the tall grass into the strip of land beside the cow pasture and turned toward the house, certain that she and the Sunshine Man would never meet.

Special to the Register – A freshman at New Lebanon High School has been charged in the "Moon Killer" slayings of two Auden University coeds, law enforcement authorities announced today.

The fifteen-year-old youth, whose identity has been withheld because of his age, was apprehended by town and county deputies at his parents' home yesterday afternoon.

"He clearly fits the profile that we were working from," said New Lebanon Sheriff Steve Ribbon. "He had a collection of deviate photographs and drawings of girls from the high school. It looked like he had a whole series of assaults planned."

Sheriff Ribbon added that authorities are looking at the possibility that the youth was involved in the slaying last year of another Auden co-ed, Susan Biagotti.

"At the time," he said, "it appeared that the girl was killed during a robbery. But the way we're looking at it now, it might have been the first in this series of killings."

Some residents greeted the news of the arrest with cautious relief. "Of course, we're glad he's been caught," said a New Lebanon housewife who refused to give her name, "but it seems like there's still a lot of questions. Was he doing this alone? Is it safe for my children to go back to school?"

Others were less restrained in their reaction. "We can breathe again," said one Main Street shopkeeper, who also insisted on anonymity. "My business came to a standstill the last couple of weeks. I hope he gets the chair."

Under state law, a fifteen-year-old can be tried as an adult for murder, but no one under eighteen can be sentenced to death. If the jury convicts the youth of first-degree murder, his sentence could range from thirty-five years to life and he would have to serve at least twenty-five years before he would be eligible for parole.

Diane had found a psychiatrist cartoon in a magazine and cut it out for Dr. Parker. It showed a little fish sitting in a chair holding a notebook. Next to him was a huge shark lying down on a couch and the little fish was saying to the shark, "Oh, no, it's perfectly normal to want to eat your psychiatrist." Diane kept studying the cartoon and not getting it. But the expression on the face of the shark was so funny she broke out in laughter.

Which wasn't as loud as the laughter that escaped from Dr. Parker's mouth when she looked at the clipping. Maybe the woman did have a sense of humor after all. Dr. Parker pinned the cartoon up on her bulletin board. Diane felt ecstatic, as if she'd been given a gold star at school.

Sarah was in the waiting room. Dr. Parker had asked to see Diane first today. By herself. This troubled Diane, who wondered what kind of bad news the woman had to report. But seeing the doctor laugh, she sensed this was no crisis. As Dr. Parker rummaged through her desk Diane told her about Ben Breck.

"Breck? I think I've heard of him. Let's look him up." She spun around in her chair and found a huge book. She opened it and flipped through. "Ah, here we go. He's forty one… Impressive. Summa cum from Yale, ditto an M.A. and Ph.D. in psychology. Ph.D. in education from Chicago. He's taught at a number of Ivy League schools. Currently tenured at Chicago. Published extensively in the journals. Visiting at Auden, is he? Lucky you."

"So I should take him up on it?"

"Cheap tutoring from an expert. I'd say there isn't much of a choice there."

"I've already told him I would."

"I think you'll see some dramatic improvements in Sarah." The doctor looked at her watch. "This session will be very short, Mrs. Corde. A few minutes with you, a few with Sarah. I'm not going to charge you for the time."

"My horoscope for this month must've said, 'You will meet two generous therapists.'"

Dr. Parker's sense of humor had been spent on the cartoon; she ignored the pleasantry and dug again with some irritation into the bottom of her desk drawer. Finally she extracted a small black box.

The doctor said, "You're going to see Sarah carrying this around with her. Tell your husband and son to leave it alone. Don't touch it, don't listen to it, don't ask her about it. Unless she says something first."

Diane asked the most innocuous question she could think of. "Is it a tape recorder?"

"That's right."

"What's it for?"

"I'm going to reconstruct Sarah's self-esteem."

"How?"

She answered tersely, "Sarah's going to write a book."

Diane smiled, a reflex. Then she decided that the joke was in poor taste and she frowned. Dr. Parker pushed the recorder, a blank cassette and an instruction book toward Diane, who scooped them up and held them helplessly. When the doctor said nothing more Diane said, "You're not joking, are you?"

"Joking?" Dr. Parker looked as if Diane were the one making the tasteless comment. "Mrs. Corde, I'd think you'd know by now I rarely joke."