them to find anything, but it kept them busy, and kept them from listening too closely to Martin Forager’s charges, repeated drunkenly in the tavern each evening, that the police weren’t doing anything. Norton hoped he could keep the searchers working for at least ten days, at the end of which time he hoped to have something more solid to go on than a simple vanishing.
The women of Port Arbello found they were drinking much more coffee than usual, and burning much more gas than usual, as they all took to transporting their children to and from school. All except the people along Conger’s Point Road, where Anne Forager had allegedly been attacked, and where Kathy Burton had apparently disappeared. The families on Conger’s Point Road did not discuss what was happening, nor did they consult each other on the best way of handling the situation. It was as though, individually, they had each decided that nothing would happen if they did not admit that anything was wrong. So the children of Conger’s Point Road continued to walk to and from school each day. If anyone noticed that there was an unusual amount of automobile traffic on the Point Road as each of the mothers found an errand or two to do in town during the hours the children would be walking, no one commented on it. Silently they preserved the appearance of normalcy, and the sight of the constant search parties reassured them.
Thursday morning Elizabeth found herself almost running from the house to the Conger’s Point Road. She would have cut across the field, coming to the Road at the base of the woods, but she felt slightly embarrassed. When she got to the Road she glanced quickly to the right, then deliberately slowed her pace and tried to assume an air of nonchalance. For the third morning in a row, Jeff Stevens was waiting for her.
Tuesday morning she had assumed it was a coincidence. She hadn’t questioned him about how he happened to leave his house just as she passed the woods. Instead, she had simply fallen in beside him, and surrendered her books when he had taken them from her.
Wednesday morning he had been waiting for her by the Stevenses’ mailbox, and she wondered if he had been told to escort her to school. As if he had read her thoughts, he reached for her books and smiled.
“Tomorrow morning you can carry mine,” he’d said. “I’m glad you live out here. It isn’t any fun, walking by myself.”
So on Thursday morning Elizabeth approached Jeff and held out her hands.
“My turn,” she said, grinning at him. When he failed to respond, she spoke again. “You said I could carry your books today.”
Jeff handed his books over silently and told himself not to forget to get them all back before they were in sight of the school. The teasing had been bad enough when he’d carried Elizabeth’s; if she were seen carrying his, he’d never live it down.
He tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to his mind. Which was all right with him, since he seemed to find himself stammering a lot when he tried to talk to Elizabeth. He wondered if he was developing a crush on her, and decided he probably was.
“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Elizabeth said, making Jeff blush a deep red.
“I was … uh … I was just thinking about Kathy Burton,” Jeff managed to say, and the blush deepened. What was wrong with him? He’d known what he was going to say. Why couldn’t he just say it?
“I wonder what happened to her,” Elizabeth said, frowning a little. “Maybe Anne Forager wasn’t lying after all.”
“Except she’s still around, and Kathy isn’t.” This time Jeff pronounced each word carefully and managed not to stammer.
“I hope they find her,” Elizabeth said. “She’s a good friend of mine. She baby-sits for the Nortons a lot, and we used to walk together.”
Jeff suddenly found himself hoping maybe they wouldn’t find Kathy Burton. He wasn’t sure he wanted to walk with Elizabeth and someone else too. He decided being fourteen was lousy.
He forgot to retrieve his books from Elizabeth until they were inside the building. Thursday morning Jeff Stevens took a terrific ribbing at school.
By Thursday afternoon Port Arbello had begun to accept the reality of the situation. Marilyn Burton found that her cash receipts were dropping back to a normal level; fewer people were stopping by “just to have a little chat” and