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her. . . only I didn't have her number. Now I told her to write it down. "And below the number, write Call if plans change."

While she did, I started the van's engine and turned the heater on full blast. She returned the card. I tucked it into my wallet, shoved the wallet back into my pocket, and tossed the pen into the glove compartment. I took her in my arms and kissed her cold cheek. Her trembling didn't stop, but it eased.

"You saved my life," I said. "Now let's make sure nothing happens to you or Mike because you did. Listen very carefully."

She listened.

?

Six days later, Indian summer came back to Heaven's Bay for a brief final fling. It was perfect weather for a noon meal at the end of the Ross boardwalk, only we couldn't go there. Newsmen and photographers had it staked out. They could do that because, unlike the two acres surrounding the big green Victorian, the beach was public property. The story of how Annie had taken out Lane Hardy (known then and forever after as The Carny Killer) with one shot had gone nationwide.

Not that the stories were bad. Quite the opposite. The Wilmington paper had led with DAUGHTER OF EVANGELIST BUDDY

ROSS BAGS CARNY KILLER. The New York Post was more succinct: HERO MOM ! It helped that there were file photos from Annie's salad days where she looked not just gorgeous but smoking hot. Inside View, the most popular of the supermarket tabloids back then, put out an extra edition. They had unearthed a photo of Annie at seventeen, taken after a shooting competition at Camp Perry. Clad in tight jeans, an NRA tee-shirt, and cowboy boots, she was standing with an antique Purdey shotgun broken 274

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over one arm and holding up a blue ribbon in her free hand.

Next to the smiling girl was a mug-shot of Lane Hardy at twentyone, after an arrest in San Diego-under his real name, which was Leonard Hopgood-for indecent exposure. The two pix made a terrific contrast. The headline: BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.

Being a minor hero myself, I got some mention in the North Carolina papers, but in the tabloids I was hardly mentioned.

Not sexy enough, I guess.

Mike thought having a HERO MOM was cool. Annie loathed the whole circus and couldn't wait for the press to move on to the next big thing. She'd gotten all the newspaper coverage she wanted in the days when she had been the holy man's wild child, famous for dancing on the bars in various Greenwich Village dives. So she gave no interviews, and we had our farewell picnic in the kitchen. There were actually five of us, because Milo was under the table, hoping for scraps, and Jesus-on the face of Mike's kite-was propped in the extra chair.

Their bags were in the hall. When the meal was done, I would drive them to Wilmington International. A private jet, laid on by Buddy Ross Ministries, Inc., would fly them back to Chicago and out of my life. The Heaven's Bay police department (not to mention the North Carolina State Police and maybe even the FBI) would undoubtedly have more questions for her, and she'd probably be back at some point to testify before a grand jury, but she'd be fine. She was the HERO MOM, and thanks to that promotional pen from Kroger's in the back of the van's glove compartment, there would never be a photo of Mike in the Post below a headline reading PSYCHIC SAVIOR!

Our story was simple, and Mike played no part in it. I had gotten interested in the murder of Linda Gray because of the legend that her ghost haunted the Joyland funhouse. I had enJoy land

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listed the help of my research-minded friend and summer coworker, Erin Cook. The photographs of Linda Gray and her killer had reminded me of someone, but it wasn't until after Mike's day at Joyland that the penny dropped. Before I could call the police, Lane Hardy had called me, threatening to kill Annie and Mike if I didn't come to Joyland on the double. So much truth, and only one little lie: I had Annie's phone number so I could call her if plans for Mike's visit to the park changed.

(I produced the card for the lead detective, who barely glanced at it. ) I said I called Annie from Mrs. Shoplaw's before leaving for Joyland, telling her to lock her doors, call the cops, and stay put. She did lock the doors, but didn't stay put. Nor did she call the police. She was terrified that if Hardy saw blue flashing lights, he'd kill me. So she'd taken one of the guns from the safe and followed Lane with her headlights off, hoping to surprise him. Which she did. Thus, HERO MOM.

"How's your father taking all this, Dev?" Annie asked.

"Aside from saying he'd come to Chicago and wash your cars for life, if you wanted?" She laughed, but my father had actually said that. "He's fine. I'm heading back to New Hampshire next month. We'll have Thanksgiving together. Fred asked me to stay on until then, help him get the park buttoned up, and I agreed. I can still use the money."

"For school?"

"Yeah. I guess I'll go back for the spring semester. Dad's sending me an application."

"Good. That's where you need to be, not painting rides and replacing lightbulbs in an amusement park."

"You'll really come to see us in Chicago, right?" Mike asked.

"Before I get too sick?"

Annie stirred uneasily, but said nothing.





S T E P H E N K I N G


"I have to," I said, and pointed to the kite. "How else am I going to return that? You said it was just a loan."

"Maybe you'll get to meet my grandpa. Other than being crazy about Jesus, he's pretty cool." He gave his mother a sideways glance. "I think so, anyway. He's got this great electric train set in his basement."