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"That must have beenjillian Mislaburski," Alan said. "The house on the other side of the jerzyck place is empty-up for sale."

"Yeah. Jillian Misla-whatski. That's what I've got here."

"Who was the kid?"

"Dunno. She recognized him but couldn't come up with the name.

She says he's from the neighborhood, though-probably from right there on the block. We'll find him."

"How old?"

"She said between eleven and fourteen."

"Henry? Be a pal and let me find him. Would you do that?"

"Yep," Henry said at once, and Alan relaxed. "I don't understand why we have to roll these investigations when the crime happens right in the county seat, anyway. They let them fry their own fish in Portland and Bangor, so why not Castle Rock? Christ, I wasn't even sure how to pronounce that woman's name until you said it out loud!"

"There are a lot of Poles in The Rock," Alan said absently. He tore a pink Traffic Warning form from the pad on his desk and jotted Jill Mislaburski' and Boy, 11-14 on the back.

"If my guys find this kid, he's gonna see three big State Troops and be so scared everything goes out of his head," Henry said. "He probably knows you-don't you go around and talk at the schools?"

"Yes, about the D.A.R.E. program and on Law and Safety Day," Alan said. He was trying to think of families with kids on the block where the jerzycks and the Mislaburskis lived. If Jill Mislaburski recognized him but didn't know his name, that probably meant the kid lived around the corner, or maybe on Pond Street. Alan wrote three names quickly on the sheet of scrap paper: DeLois, Rusk, Bellingham.

There were probably other families with boys in the right age-group that he couldn't remember right off the bat, but those three would do for a start. A quick canvass would almost certainly turn the kid up.

"Did Jill know what time she heard the ruckus and saw the boy?"

Alan asked.

"She's not sure, but she thinks it was after eleven."

"So it wasn't the jerzycks fighting, because the jerzycks were at Mass."

"Right.), "Then it was the rock-thrower."

"Right agin."

"This one's real weird, Henry."

"That's three in a row. One more and you win the toaster oven."

"I wonder if the kid saw who it was?"

"Ordinarily I'd say 'too good to be true,' but the Mislaburski woman said he looked scared, so maybe he did. If he did see the perp, I'll bet you a shot and a beer it wasn't Nettle Cobb. I think somebody played them off against each other, scout, and maybe just for the kick of the thing. just for that."

But Alan, who knew the town better than Henry ever would, found this fantastical. "Maybe the kid did it himself," he said.

"Maybe that's why he looked scared. Maybe what we've got here is a simple case of vandalism."

"In a world where there's a Michael Jackson and an asshole like Axl Rose, anything's possible, I suppose," Henry said, "blit I'd like the possibility of vandalism a lot better if the kid was sixteen or seventeen, you know?"

"Yes," Alan said.

"And why speculate at all, if you can find the kid? You can, can't you?"

"I'm pretty sure, yeah. But I'd like to wait until school lets out, if that's okay with you. It's like you said-scaring him won't do any good."

"Fine by me; the two ladies aren't going anywhere but into the ground. The reporters are around here, but they're only a nuisance I swat em like flies."

Alan looked out the window in time to see a newsvan from WMTW-TV go cruising slowly past, probably bound for the main courthouse entrance around the corner.

"Yeah, they're here, too," he said.

"Can you call me by five?"

"By four," Alan said. "Thanks, Henry."

"Don't mention it," Henry Payton said, and hung up.

Alan's first impulse was to go get Norris Ridgewick and tell him all about this-Norris made a hell of a good sounding-board, if nothing else. Then he remembered that Norris was probably parked in the middle of Castle Lake with his new fishing rod in his hand.

He made a few more shadow-animals on the wall, then got up.