"Well..." Suzan raised china-blue eyes to look around at the group. "Fogle always got here at the crack of dawn, didn't he? And his office is right up there, isn't it?" She nodded, and Cassie followed her gaze to a window on the second floor of the red-brick building. Then Cassie looked down the hill, to the bottom where Kori had been found.
There was a pause, and then Diana said, "Oh, my God."
"What?" Chris demanded, looking around. Deborah scowled and Laurel blinked. Faye was chuckling.
"She's saying he might have seen Kori's murderer," Adam said. "And then whoever killed her, killed him to keep him from talking. But do we know he was here that morning?"
Cassie was now staring from the second-story window to the chimney that rose from the school. It had been cold the morning they found Kori dead, and the principal had a fireplace in his office. Had there been smoke rising from the chimney that morning?
"You know," she said softly to Diana, "I think he was here."
"Then that could be it," Laurel said excitedly. "And it would mean it couldn't have been one of us who killed him-because whoever killed him killed Kori, too. And none of us would have done that."
Diana was looking vastly relieved, and there were nods around the Circle. A little voice inside Cassie was trying to say something, but she pushed it down.
Nick, however, had his lip curled. "And who besides one of us would have been able to drop an avalanche on somebody?"
"Anybody with a stick or a crowbar," Deborah snapped. "Those rocks on the cliff at Devil's Cove are just piled up any old way. An outsider could've done it easy. So it's back to the question of which of them did it-if we have to ask anymore." There was a hunting light in her face, and Chris and Doug were looking eager.
"You leave Sally alone until we figure this out," Diana said flatly.
"And Jeffrey," Faye added throatily, with a meaningful look. Deborah glared at her, then at last dropped her eyes.
"Now that we've got that solved, I have a real problem to talk about," Suzan said, brushing crumbs off the front of her sweater, an interesting process which Sean and the Hendersons watched avidly. "Homecoming is in less than two weeks, and I haven't figured out who to ask yet. And I haven't even got any shoes..."
The meeting degenerated, and shortly after that the bell rang.
"Who are you going to ask to Homecoming?" Laurel asked Cassie that afternoon. They were driving home from school with Diana and Melanie.
"Oh..." Cassie was taken aback. "I haven't thought about it. I-I've never asked a guy to a dance in my life."
"Well, now's the time to start," Melanie said. "Usually the outsiders don't ask us-they're a little scared. But you can have any guy you want; just pick him and tell him to show up." . "Just like that?"
"Yep," Laurel said cheerfully. "Like that. Of course, Melanie and I don't usually ask guys who're together with somebody. But Faye and Suzan..." She rolled her eyes. "They like picking guys who're taken."
"I've noticed," Cassie said. There was no question about whom Diana went to dances with. "What about Deborah?"
"Oh, Deb usually just goes stag," said Laurel. "She and the Hendersons hang out, playing cards and stuff in the boiler room. And Sean just goes from girl to girl to girl; none of them like him, but they're all too scared not to dance with him. You'll see it there; it's funny."
"I probably won't see it," Cassie said. The idea of walking up to some guy and ordering him to escort her was simply unthinkable. Impossible, even if she was a witch. She might as well tell everybody now and let them get used to it. "I probably won't go. I don't like dances much."
"But you have to go," Laurel said, dismayed, and Diana said, "It's the most fun-really, Cassie. Look, let's go to my house right now and talk about guys you can ask."
"No, I've got to go straight home," Cassie said quickly. She had to go home because she had to look for the skull. Faye's words had been ringing in the back of her mind all day, and now they drowned out Diana's voice. All the time you need-until Saturday. "Please just drop me off at my house."
In silence that was bewildered and a little hurt, Diana complied.
All that week, Cassie looked for the skull.
She looked on the beach where her initiation had been held, where stumps of candles and pools of melted wax could still be seen half buried in the sand. She looked on the beach below Diana's house, among the eelgrass and driftwood. She looked up and down the bluffs, walking on the dunes each afternoon and evening. It made sense that Diana would have marked the place somehow, but with what kind of mark? Any bit of flotsam or jetsam on the sand could be it.
As each day went by she got more and more worried. She'd been so sure she could find it; it was just a matter of looking. But now it seemed she'd looked at every inch of beach for miles, and all she'd found was sea wrack and a few old beer bottles.
On Saturday morning she stepped out of the front door to see a bright-red car circling in the cul-de-sac a little past her grandmother's house. There was no building at the very point of the headland where the road dead-ended, but the car was circling there. As Cassie stood in the doorway, it turned and cruised slowly by her house. It was Faye's Corvette ZRI, and Faye was in it, one languid arm drooping out of the window.
As she went by Cassie, Faye raised her hand and held up one finger, its long nail gleaming even redder than the car's paint job. Then she turned and mouthed a single word at Cassie.
Sunset.