Absolutely, Positively

this.”

    “There's been no real violence, and he's apparently left the state. I can't see anyone getting too worked up about Kendall except you and me.”

    “With any luck, Kendall has abandoned his revenge in favor of trying to find some fresh funding in California.”

    “Think he'll convince someone down there to back him?”

    “We're talking about California.” Harry glanced in his rearview mirror. He frowned slightly and then returned his attention to the road. “No shortage of nuts down there who will be more than willing to finance one of his flaky paranormal inventions.”

    “I suppose you're right.” Molly heaved a small sigh. “Well, since the dynamic duo of Abberwick and Trevelyan seems to have solved the mystery of the malicious pranks, I guess I'll be able to move back home.”

    “I've got plenty of room.”

    “Yes, I know, but if I stay at your place much longer I will cross that invisible line that separates houseguest from roommate.”

    “Feel free to cross it.”

    “I can't stay with you indefinitely,” she said gently.

    “Why not?”

    She gave him an exasperated look. “Because I can't, that's why not. Our arrangement was that I would stay with you until we located Kendall.”

    “Which we have not yet done.”

    “Harry, I have a home of my own.”

    “I don't see—” Harry broke off abruptly.

    “What's wrong?” Molly asked without glancing up from the notebook.

    “Nothing. Why?”

    “I don't know. I just had a feeling that something was bothering you.” She turned another page and paused to examine a sketch of what appeared to be a helmet with wires attached to it. “This is interesting. Harry, maybe we shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss Kendall's research.”

    “What research? There's no research behind his crackpot ideas. Just fantasy.” Harry eased his foot down on the pedal. The car picked up speed.

    Molly closed the notebook with a snap. “What is it? What's wrong?”

    “Some fool in a blue Ford is coming up behind us too fast for this road.”

    Molly turned in the seat and glanced through the rear window. She saw a late-model blue car emerge from the last curve. It was moving swiftly. Too swiftly for the winding road. The Ford's tinted windows made it impossible to see the driver's face.

    “Looks like the impatient type. Better let him pass, Harry.”

    “There's no passing lane and nothing but a series of curves for the next ten miles.”

    “You could pull over to the side.” A sense of urgency gripped Molly as the Ford drew closer. “Do it, Harry. The guy may be drunk.”

    Harry did not argue. He started to downshift.

    The Ford leaped ahead, moving out to pass.

    “He's going to go around us,” Molly said, relieved at this evidence of the Ford's obvious intentions.

    The Ford was abreast of them now. It made no move to shoot past them. Instead, as Molly watched in horror, it edged closer to the front fender of Harry's sleek sports car. She suddenly realized that the driver of the Ford intended to force them off the road.

    There was no place to go. A sharp, tree-studded incline waited on the other side of the all-too-fragile guard rail.

    “Harry.”

    “Hang on,” Harry said softly.

    Molly held her breath. Some part of her knew that they could not possibly escape the Ford now. It was too close. And the next wicked curve loomed ahead. Close. Much too close. She waited for the impact.

    What happened next was a blur to Molly. Braced for the crash, she was unprepared for the sudden, violent deceleration of the sports car as Harry braked abruptly. Molly heard the tires scream in protest. The Sneath went into a slide.

    She was dimly aware of the blue Ford flashing past as it overshot its target. It swerved frantically as the driver fought to recover control before he entered the next curve.

    And then it was gone.

    Molly waited for the sliding Sneath to crash through the guard rail.

12

    Harry ended the controlled slide and brought the Sneath to a clean stop in the right-hand lane. He automatically checked the rearview mirror to make certain there was no one coming out of the curve behind him. Then he surveyed Molly. She was safe within the cocoon of her seat belt and shoulder harness. Her face was strained, but she appeared astonishingly calm.

    “Are you all right?” Even to his own ears his voice sounded as rough as a lava field. He couldn't help it. The impact of the realization that Molly could have been killed