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empty.
    "DeAnn?” she called again. She went back into the hallway and to the bathroom. The door was open, and the room was empty. “DeAnn?” There was still no answer.
    She went back into their shared room. This time she noticed what she hadn't seen before—a folded piece of pale-blue paper rested against the pillow of her twin bed.
    Harriet sat on the bed and quickly read the note. She looked around the room and confirmed what the note had explained. DeAnn was gone.
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Chapter Five
    "She's gone,” Harriet said as she returned to the common room. She held up the note. “This was on my bed. It says she got a ride into Angel Harbor and will catch a ride home with Aunt Beth."
    Beth was coming that evening to see the the long-session students’ fiber exhibition. In addition to actual technique classes, the folk art school taught students how to solicit and fulfill commissioned works, how to book gallery showings and how to hang an exhibition of their work. Lauren's class was doing the latter this week.
    "That was quick,” Lauren commented. “We weren't that far behind her. I wonder if she had this all planned."
    "Don't be ridiculous,” Robin told her.
    Lauren glared at her, but kept quiet.
    "Here's what I think we should do,” Mavis said. “We don't have any more meetings today and classes don't start until tomorrow, so we eat dinner, we go to Lauren's exhibit, get a good night's sleep and then see how we feel about it in the morning."
    "That will give us a chance to talk to Beth about it, too,” Robin added.
    As one of the founding members of the Loose Threads quilting group, Beth's opinion would carry weight even if she hadn't been present for the original incident.
    The rest of the group agreed.
    "We'll let you know what we decide in the morning,” Mavis told Patience.
    "That's fair enough.” Patience carried her teacup to the kitchenette and went to the door. “I hope you won't let one unfortunate experience color your opinion of our very fine school,” she said and left.
    "Anyone want to go for a walk?” Harriet asked when Patience was gone. “It's too early for dinner, and I don't think I can sit and stitch right now."
    "I'll go with you,” Robin said. Mavis and Connie declined.
    "I'm going to check on my display,” Lauren announced. “Selestina is inspecting our hanging in an hour and a half, and from what I've heard, I won't feel like joining you for dinner afterward, so I guess I'll just see you at the show."
    "I'll bring you something you can eat after,” Connie offered.
    "Thank you,” Lauren said as she went out the door.
    "There's a loop trail around the perimeter of the school,” Robin said. “It goes by a little duck pond down below the painting pavilion."
    Harriet put on her gray hooded sweatshirt, and Robin pulled on a hip-length yellow jacket whose bottom edge curved up at her hips. The jacket was the same obscure athletic brand as her black yoga pants and pale blue form-fitted top and was a fabric that was undoubtedly the latest in technical sportswear.
    In the months since she'd returned to Foggy Point, Harriet had learned that Robin was a popular yoga teacher; she'd also avoided having to take a class with her.
* * * *
    The two women strolled through the woods in silence, each lost in her own thoughts. They had just come into the clearing that contained the painting pavilion when they spotted three men ahead of them. Two were dressed in jeans and denim shirts. The third was taller and thinner and wore tan wide-wale corduroy slacks and a dark-brown sweater vest over a pale-blue oxford shirt.
    "The boundary stake should be somewhere around the base of that taller pine tree.” He pointed to the center tree in a cluster of pines then, when he turned back to the path, discovered Harriet and Robin. “Hello,” he said. “I hope you're enjoying the grounds."
    When they didn't respond, the man stepped toward Harriet with his hand outstretched.
    "I'm Tom