Maybe it hadn't been Red Beaumont at all who'd killed Mrs. Fiske. Maybe it had been Marcus. The other Mr. Beaumont.

Did Mr. Beaumont kill you? That's what I'd asked Mrs. Fiske. And she'd said yes. But Mr. Beaumont to her might have been Marcus, not poor, vampire-wannabe Red Beaumont.

No, wait. Tad's father had told me straight out that he felt sorry for having killed all those people. That had been his motivation for inviting me over all along: he'd been hoping I'd help him communicate with his victims.

But Tad's father was clearly a couple of fries short of a Happy Meal. I don't think he could have killed a cockroach, let alone another human being.

No, whoever had killed Mrs. Fiske and those other people had been smart enough to cover his tracks . . . and Tad's dad was no Daniel Boone, let me tell you.

His brother, on the other hand …

"I'm getting a really bad feeling about all this," Cee Cee was saying. "I mean, I know we can't prove anything – and despite what Adam thinks, it's highly unlikely anything my aunt Pru would have to

contribute would be permissible in court – but I think we have a moral obligation – "

The call-waiting went off again. Father D. I'd forgotten all about Father D. He'd hung up in a rage and was calling back.

"Look, Cee Cee," I said, still feeling sort of numb. "We'll talk about it tomorrow at school, okay?"

"Okay," Cee Cee said. "But I'm just letting you know, Suze, I think we've stumbled onto something big here."

Big? Try gargantuan.

But it wasn't Father Dominic on the other line, I found out, after I pressed down on the receiver:

It was Tad.

"Sue?" he said. He still sounded a little groggy.

And he still seemed to have only a slight clue what my name was.

"Um, hi, Tad," I said.

"Sue, I am so sorry," he said. Grogginess aside, he sounded as if he meant it. "I don't know what

happened. I guess I was more tired than I thought. You know, at practice they run us pretty hard, and some nights I just conk out sooner than others...."

Yeah, I said to myself. I bet.

"Don't worry about it," I said. Tad had way bigger things to concern himself with than falling asleep during a date.

"But I want to make it up to you," Tad insisted. "Please let me. What are you doing Saturday night?"

Saturday night? I forgot all about how this kid was related to a possible serial killer. What did that matter? He was asking me out. On a date. A real date. On Saturday night. Visions of candlelight and French kissing danced in my head. I could hardly speak, I was so flattered.

"I have a game," Tad went on, "but I figured you could come watch me play, and then afterward we could maybe get a pizza with the rest of the guys or something."

My excitement died a rapid little death.

Was he kidding? He wanted me to come watch him play basketball? Then go out with him and the rest of the team? For pizza? I wasn't even burger material? I mean, at this point, I'd settle for Sizzler, for crying out loud.

"Sue," Tad said when I didn't say anything right away. "You aren't mad at me, are you? I mean, I really didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

What was I thinking, anyway? It would never work out between the two of us. I mean, I'm a mediator. His dad's a vampire. His uncle's a killer. What if we got married? Think how our kids would turn out....

Confused. Way confused.

Kind of like Tad.

"It wasn't that you were boring me, or anything," he went on. "Really. Well, I mean, that thing you were talking about was kind of boring – the thing about that statue with the head that needed gluing back on. That story, I mean. But not you. You're not boring, Susan. That's not why I fell asleep, I swear it."

"Tad," I said, annoyed by how many times he'd felt it necessary to assure me I hadn't been boring him – a sure sign I'd been boring him senseless – and of course by the fact that he could not seem to remember my name. "Grow up."

He said, "Whadduya mean?"

"I mean you didn't fall asleep, okay? You passed out because your dad slipped some Seconal or

something into your coffee."

Okay, maybe that wasn't the most diplomatic way to tell the guy his father needed to up his meds. But hey, nobody's going to go around accusing me of being boring. Nobody.

Besides, don't you think he had a right to know?

"Sue," he said, after a moment's pause. Pain throbbed in his voice. "Why would you say something like that? I mean, how could you even think something like that?"

I guess I couldn't blame the poor guy. It was pretty hard to believe. Unless you'd seen it up close and personal the way I had.

"Tad," I said. "I mean it. Your old man . . . his phaser seems set on permanent stun, if you get my drift."

"No," Tad said, a little sullenly, I thought. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Tad," I said. "Come on. The guy thinks he's a vampire."

"He does not!" Tad, I realized, was up to his armpits in some major denial. "You're full of it!"

I decided to show Tad just how full of it I was.

"No offense, buddy," I said, "but next time you're purring on one of those gold chains of yours, you might ask yourself where the money to pay for it came from. Or better yet, why don't you ask your uncle Marcus?"

"Maybe I will," Tad said.

"Maybe you should," I said.

"I will, then," Tad said.

"Fine, then do it."

I slammed down the phone. Then I sat there staring down at it.

What on earth had I just done?

CHAPTER

16

In spite of the fact that I'd nearly killed a man that night, I didn't have too many problems falling asleep.

Seriously.

Okay, so I was tired, all right? I mean, let's face it: I'd had a trying day.

And it wasn't like those phone calls I'd gotten just before I'd gone to bed had helped. Father Dominic was totally mad at me for not having told him sooner about Jesse, and Tad seemed to pretty much hate me now, too.

Oh, and his uncle Marcus? Yeah, possible serial killer. Almost forgot that part.

But seriously, what was I supposed to do? I mean, I'd known perfectly well Father D wasn't going to be thrilled about Jess. And as for Tad, well, if my dad had ever drugged me stupid, I would totally want to know.