“I could have taken my own car,” Julian said.

“This one handles better on wet roads.”

Julian said nothing for a minute. “Were you worried about her too?”

It was his turn to choose his words. “Not worried as such. But I’ve been patrolling the village since the storm hit to make note of any flooded streets or downed power lines.” And giving quiet thanks last night that he wasn’t one of the highway patrol officers driving those dark roads in the wild country in this weather. “The Jumble and its residents are also part of my territory, so it was time to check up on them.”

“And to show the terra indigene that human authority isn’t ignoring someone they’ve taken an interest in.”

“That too.”

He turned onto the access road to The Jumble. Someone had removed the chain across the road. Had one of the boys, as Vicki DeVine called them, come out to do it? Or had it been down a while, maybe indicating that someone else had gone up to the main house?

“Julian?”

“We’re not walking into anything,” Julian said after a long moment.

Then he would assess the situation and decide if he should mention the chain to Conan or Cougar. After all, they were the ones who had put it up in the first place.

They got out of the car. Julian grabbed the three pizzas and Grimshaw grabbed the two bags of groceries. They closed the car doors and ran for the overhang protecting the front door. Julian juggled the pizzas and managed to ring the doorbell.

When the door opened, it wasn’t Vicki DeVine standing there to greet them. It was Cougar, and he didn’t look like greeting them was what he had in mind.

“We brought pizza,” Julian said.

“Hi, Julian,” Vicki said brightly, peering around Cougar. “You’re just in time!” She hesitated for a moment. “Officer Grimshaw.”

“Hope it’s all right for me to stop by,” he said. He wasn’t in uniform and had left Osgood on call for the evening.

“Oh, sure.” Vicki tapped her fingers against the Panther’s arm. “Cougar, let them come in out of the rain.”

They followed her to the kitchen—and Conan and Cougar followed them. He listened to Vicki and Julian wrangling about the cost of the groceries and paying for the pizzas while he put the milk and orange juice into the refrigerator. He noticed the Others were also listening to the wrangling, but neither male was showing any further sign of hostility toward Julian.

Vicki paid for her groceries and accepted the pizzas as Julian’s contribution for a social evening. Grimshaw took note that Conan and Cougar knew enough about the main house to know where to find the dishes, glasses, and flatware.

They piled pizza onto the plates, took plenty of napkins, and went into the social room. Vicki and Julian went back for the glasses and a pitcher of water. Grimshaw would have preferred a beer, but he was driving, and it wasn’t a night to have his reflexes even slightly dulled.

Then they all looked at the terra indigene’s version of Murder—and Grimshaw watched Julian Farrow pale.

“It’s The Jumble,” Julian said, sounding as if he were choking.

To give Julian time to recover before anyone started asking questions, Grimshaw pointed to what he hoped was a clean sock and said, “What’s that?”

“Fuzzy Sock Elder,” Vicki replied.

Crap.

He ate pizza and listened to the Others explain their version of the game. Land on a question mark and you pick a card that might allow you to take an extra move or allow you to escape a predator—or be attacked by one. The pair of dice were thrown to decide conflicts—an even number meant the player entering the room would not attack the player already in the room; an odd number equaled an attack and the number itself determined the severity of the attack. A low number indicated a small, nonlethal bite, while a high number equaled being eaten or at least desperately injured unless you had a “Doctor!” card and could get help or had a “Friend” card that meant the other player would now work with you instead of munching on you.

No way to get out of playing now, so he resigned himself to losing the game and reminded himself that he’d gotten pizza out of the deal.

And hoped he really wasn’t seeing the signs that Julian was sensing something terribly wrong now.

* * *

• • •

They agreed on the rules: the initial victim was a character from the original game, the weapon would be one of the human ones that came with the game, and the location would be one of the rooms on the board. But the Others insisted that they had to play by Miss Vicki’s rule that you had to bring the weapon to the room to make your guesses. Which would have been fine, except Grimshaw noticed almost all of the weapons had been scattered in the north, south, and east woods. The revolver was in the lake, placed on the last square located on the blue paper.

Six weapons, six players. They rolled the die and moved their pieces on the squares to reach one of the two doors that would get them outside to fetch the weapons.

“I could go out a window,” Aggie said, after rolling a two for the third time. “I’m a Crow. I could do that.”

“No squares under the windows,” Vicki said. “You can’t move your piece except on the squares, so you have to reach a door.”

Julian moved teeny Julian out the kitchen door and headed for the lake—and the revolver. Teeny Vicki went out the front door and headed for the garrote in the north woods. Teeny Cougar headed for the rope but got distracted when he landed on a square and had the chance to eat a fawn. He didn’t roll a number high enough for a serious injury so the fawn got away, and he growled softly about the missed kill until Vicki went into the kitchen and returned with the rest of the pizzas, much to Grimshaw’s relief since he was sitting next to the Panther.

They were still wandering outside, retrieving the weapons, when Grimshaw felt the first ripple of unease. Julian had been heading for the lake during his turns and had rolled a six—enough to reach the last square on the blue paper and get the revolver. Except Julian moved his piece to the last square on “land” and stopped. He stared at the “lake” and the female in the blue dress for so long that Vicki started to reach out and touch his arm. Then Julian turned his playing piece around and marched teeny Julian back toward the house.

“But you didn’t fetch the revolver,” Vicki said.

“No,” Julian replied, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead.

He’s afraid, Grimshaw thought. What is he sensing that would make him afraid? It’s just a game.

Could this game version of The Jumble be just close enough to represent the real thing? He’d never seen Julian react this way when they’d been in the academy.

Grimshaw landed on a question mark square and drew a “Friend” card, meaning when he finally entered a room or confronted a predator, he could use the card instead of rolling the dice to determine the outcome of a fight. Vicki also landed on a question mark square.

“Help from an Elder,” she read. She looked at the fuzzy sock guarding the north woods and smiled. “That’s a good card.”

“Yes,” Aggie said, not smiling. “It’s a very good card. You should keep it with you.”

Grimshaw fetched the revolver from the lake and Julian managed to bring the fireplace poker to the kitchen and seemed to be all right, had even regained his color.

Then Vicki landed on another question mark and drew a card that said, “A predator blocks your path. The next player chooses the predator.”

Aggie was the next player and didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the businessman with the briefcase and set him on the square right in front of teeny Vicki—the square that had the garrote next to it.

Julian leaped up and ran for the nearest bathroom.

Conan and Cougar looked at Julian’s empty place at the table, then looked at the board.

Grimshaw counted the seconds. When a full minute had passed, he rose casually. “I’ll go check on him. Make sure he’s all right. Hope he’s not coming down with a stomach bug.”

Following Vicki’s directions, he found the powder room and knocked on the door. “Julian?” He didn’t hear vomiting. Didn’t hear anything. He turned the knob and was surprised it wasn’t locked. He opened the door a couple of inches. “Julian?”