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through a small
stand of pine trees. To the right, the ground began rising gently to form the
base of the low mountains that stretched across the western horizon. Derek’s
eyes wandered over the outline they formed against the blue sky, and for a
moment they seemed almost familiar, as if… no, it was nothing… Déjà vu.
    “That’s the Jarman place,” Ann said, pointing to
their right through the windshield. “It was built by one of the prominent
founding fathers of our fair city. No one knows how he came by the money, but
he and his family disappeared one step ahead of the Feds back in the thirties.
Gives people some pretty good ideas. This used to be whiskey country.”
    The place was a mansion by most standards; a large
two-story house set well back from the road. The iron fence surrounding the
grounds was over seven feet in height and a heavy double gate was set in the
fence across the gravel driveway, which formed a circle in front of the house.
The yard was choked with weeds and knee deep dead grass, and the paint on the
house was grey and peeling.
    “It doesn’t look like anybody has lived there in a
long time. How come?” Derek asked.
    “Oh, but someone does live there.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding. What kind of people would
let a place like that just fall apart?”
    “The Jarmans?” Ann giggled at his expression. “I
guess you might call them our resident weirdoes: they moved here about ten
years ago. Nobody knows much about them, and as far as I know, nobody wants to.
They’re not very friendly. The only one you hardly ever see is Richard Jarman,
and if you say anything to him, he’ll just stare at you for a minute and then
walk away.” She made a face and shook her head. “He gives me the creeps. He and
his wife have two children, but they’ve never gone to our school. Weird
people.”
    “Maybe they just like a lot of privacy.”
    “Nobody likes that much privacy and is normal at the
same time.” Ann dropped her voice into a Bella Lagosi imitation and hunched
behind the wheel, looking at Derek with one eye. “Strange sounds cometh from
yon dwelling at the stroke of midnight, when the moon is full and the wild dogs
bay. Heed my words and beware.” She straightened, laughing. “Believe it or not,
it’s true.”
    They drove on, passing an occasional house, until Ann
turned into the driveway of one built of brick. This one had a fence also, but
it was lower and made of wrought iron. A flagstone path ran most of the way
around the house.
    “A friend of mine lives here, and I promised to drop
some books off for him. It will just take a minute. Do you want to come with
me?”
    “No, I think I’ll wait here. Unannounced guests are
not always welcome.” Derek felt slightly jealous, and felt silly for feeling
that way. Of course she would have friends. She was too pretty not to have
boyfriends crawling out of the woodwork.
    “Okay. Be right back.”
    Derek waited in the car. Ann crossed the tiny yard
and knocked on the door, waited a minute, then knocked again. After another
minute the door opened by a tall man, thin, in his late sixties. He leaned
heavily on a wooden cane.
    From the car, Derek could see the obvious pleasure in
the man’s face as he greeted Ann and took the books she was carrying. The old
man motioned towards the car and said something, but Ann shook her head and
smiled, answering. After a few more words she waved goodbye and came back to
the car.
    “That was Dr. Wittakin,” Ann said, backing the car
out of the driveway. “He’s retired now, but he was a professor of natural
history. He’s written three books so far, and is working on another. He won’t
tell me what it’s about though, the brat. I wish I could do that. Write a book,
I mean. He’s such a nice old guy. I wish he didn’t have to spend so much time
in that wheelchair of his. He has a lot of trouble with his legs, but…” Ann
stopped when she saw Derek’s amused expression, and her face turned