Maybe it's no one, Bodie thought. 'Worrying about it won't do any good. Why don't you go in back and try to get some sleep?'

She didn't answer. She didn't move. She stayed curled up, head pushed forward by the seat back. Bodie wondered how she could breathe in that position.

'Doesn't your sister go out on dates?' he asked.

'No.'

'No?'

'Well, sometimes, I suppose. Hardly ever.'

'What is she, fat and ugly?'

Melanie turned her head. In the dim light, her face was a blur. Bodie couldn't read her expression, but he guessed that she wasn't amused.

'Just trying to cheer you up,' he explained.

'She's beautiful,' Melanie said.

'As beautiful as you?'

'Yeah, I'm a regular Bo Derek.'

'You look great to me.'

'You haven't seen Pen.' There was no admiration in Melanie's voice. Her monotone sounded just slightly resentful.

'She sure has a terrible name,' Bodie said.

'Who notices?'

'Me.'

'You haven't seen her yet.'

'What does she look like?'

'The Playmate of the Year.'

'Which year?'

'Any year.'

'I can't wait to meet hera'

'I'll bet.'

Bodie reached over. He patted the back of Melanie's upraised leg. When she didn't protest, he slid his hand down the soft corduroy and caressed her rump. 'I'm not big on Playmates,' he said.

'Youa'

'I know, I haven't seen Pen yet. Her favorite books must be The Prophet and Jonathan Livingston Seagull.'

Melanie humphed.

'So why doesn't she go out with guys?'

'She's got a problem with them.'

'Ah.'

'Not "ah". It's not like that. It's just that they're always. .h.i.tting on her. They've been hitting on her since she was - G.o.d only knows - twelve or thirteen. She got tired of it, that's all.'

'That's some problem.'

'It can be. I suppose. I wouldn't know.'

Bodie leaned closer to Melanie. His fingertips found the center seam of her corduroys. He stroked along it, feeling her heat through the fabric. He pressed harder, rubbed. Melanie caught her breath.

'Not now,' she said.

He took his hand away.

Melanie lowered her feet to the floor and sat up straight. 'I'm sorry,' she muttered.

'No, I understand.'

'It's my family. Dad or Pena'

'I know. I'd be upset, too. But it is Friday night. Just because n.o.body answered their phones, you shouldn't jump to conclusions. All you've really got to go on is that vision or whatever it was.'

'You think it was just my imagination.'

'I didn't say that.'

'It's what you're thinking.'

'No, but I do think that's possible. You're carrying around all this resentment and guilt about your father - about your sister, too, apparently. I'm no shrink, but-'

'That's right, you're not.'

'I'm just trying to help.'

'I'm not a mental case.'

'Melaniea'

'If you didn't believe me, you should've said so in the first place. I could've come by myself.' Her voice climbed higher, trembling. 'I don't need this. It's hard enougha' She inhaled with a sob. 'Forget it.'

'Hey, come on,' Bodie said softly.

She got up, squeezed between the two seats, and disappeared into the rear of the van.

Good work, Bodie thought. He sighed.

Christ, you can't win.

You'd think she would jump at the possibility that her vision was a false alarm. Does she want it to be true?

We're talking about her father or sister biting it, for Christsake.

Yeah, maybe she does want it true. In the back of her mind. Wishful thinking. All right for you, Dad. You had it coming - let Mom drown, then married a tramp young enough to be your daughter. Take that, Pen. That'll teach you - think you can get away with looking like a G.o.dd.a.m.n Playmate of the Year?

I've gotta see this Pen.

I'll bet you do, Melanie said, her voice bitter in his mind.

She wants them to pay.

Vengeance is sweet, and a whole lot sweeter if you're there to see it happen, arrange for a little telepathic connection so you can feel their agony as their bodies get smashed.

Bodies smashed. Now that's convenient, isn't it? What did she say? It was noisy and running at her, and too fast for her to get out of the way. Like a car or a train. Some kind of vehicle.

That'll smash you up pretty good. Disfigurement. The gorgeous sister who always got the guys - maybe some guys you wanted for yourself - gets nailed by a car. The Playmate of the Year body turned to a broken pile of gore. Take that, you b.i.t.c.h. Now who's the pretty one?

Bodie didn't like the way his thoughts were going. He turned the radio on. Dolly Parton, 'Singles Bars and Single Women'. He left the volume low to keep the Hound from disturbing Melanie.

Maybe she'll fall asleep back there. Sleep, that knits the raveled sleeve of care. She could use it. A couple of hours of forgetting about her d.a.m.ned vision.

Maybe we shouldn't have called.

Especially her sister.

That made it a whole lot worse, finding out that Pen wasn't home, either.

Where was she? Maybe out at a movie or something. But maybe Pen had been notified of her father's accident and she'd left her place to be with him. At the hospital. At the morgue.

Or the reverse: Pen the victim, her father the one called away from home.

One way or the other. That's why n.o.body answered.

I'm as bad as she is, Bodie thought. Face it, I'm half expecting the vision to turn out real.

If it wasn't telepathy or something, it was a mental blowout and Melanie's running on a flat.

For her sake, it better be real.

You don't want that, either.

What you've got here, old pal, is one of your basic no-win situations.

Heads you've lost your dad or sister, tails you've lost your mind.

Not me, Melanie. I'm just along for the ride.

Don't you wish.

She's part of me, like it or not. Her problems are my problems. It got that way, somehow.

When he first saw Melanie, she was walking toward him with her books clutched to her chest, her head down, a frown on her face. It was a sunny Friday, late enough in the afternoon so that most cla.s.ses were over and everyone around the campus seemed cheerful and relaxed. Everyone except this girl mourning over the cracks in the walkway.

Bodie felt sorry for her. He also felt intrigued. She looked lovely, fragile - ethereal - and quite obviously down in the dumps.

Badly in need of rescue.

She was still several yards ahead of him, still gazing at the walk, and he knew she would pa.s.s him without looking up.

So he fished a quarter out of his pocket. He gave it an underhand toss. It clinked on the concrete, bounced, landed on its edge and rolled in a crazy zig-zag toward the girl. Bodie knew, from the slight side-to-side motions of her head, that she was watching the quarter's approach. As it took a swerve to the right, she lengthened her stride. Her sandal slapped it flat. Her frown was gone when she raised her face and met Bodie's eyes. She looked rather satisfied with herself, pleased that she had succeeded in halting the runaway coin.

'Thanks,' he said. 'It got away from me.'

She didn't say a word. She was now looking edgy. Maybe feeling intimidated because she was a freshman - so obviously a freshman - and he was old enough to be a grad student or even an instructor. She took one step backward.

Bodie crouched to pick up the quarter.

She wore a knee-length skirt. She had slim, pale legs. They had no tan at all. Their whiteness made them seem blatantly naked.

Bodie had a difficult time forcing his gaze away from them.

He peeled the quarter off the sidewalk, and stood.

The girl's face was red. One of her fine, black eyebrows was curled upward in a pretty good imitation of a question mark. Bodie guessed that she had noticed the inspection of her legs.

I'm done for, he thought.

The girl sidestepped, ready to be on her way.

Bodie sidestepped, too.

'Excuse me,' she said. Her voice trembled. 'Please, I'm in a hurry.' She stepped the other way. Again, Bodie blocked her.

She gave up trying to dodge past him. Standing still, she looked into his eyes and caught her lower lip between her teeth.

'I'm sorry if I upset you,' he said.

'I'm not upset.'