"Do you have any idea who could be behind these pranks?" I asked. I was not about to mention my first theory that Liza was haunting us. I knew Brian was too practical to consider it.
"Paul, but I don't have proof. Paul and someone else who can cut the electricity, maybe Arthur, someone not expected to be present when my mother counts heads."
"Does Paul have a case against Walker?"
"Not really. Walker has given him a lot of breaks." Brian rolled on his side and pulled himself up on his elbow. "I don't know if I should say this. I could be way off, but I think Paul does the pranks as a way of making Liza Montgomery live on."
I thought of how Paul sniffed at her perfume, as if he couldn't get enough of it. My stomach felt queasy and I set down my sandwich.
"Is something wrong?" No.
Brian sat up. "Jenny, I have to tell you something. It may sound crazy, but I have a feeling it won't."
I met his eyes warily. "All right."
"This morning, when I was talking with my mother, I remembered a conversation I had last summer with Liza Montgomery. I remembered that Liza had a sister named Jenny."
I looked away.
"According to Liza, Jenny knew a lot about theater, and she had talent, but she was afraid to get up on stage. She never did any acting."
"No," I said quietly, "she did gymnastics."
I heard his quick intake of breath. He rested his hand on mine. "Why did you come here?" he asked. "It has got to be miserable for you."
"I told her I'd come. I promised Liza I'd visit her. I just"-my voice caught in my throat-"arrived a little late."
He lifted his hand and touched my cheek gently. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry about what happened."
I nodded, pressing my lips together, hoping he wouldn't hear the sob building in my throat. He leaned closer and brushed my hair back from my face.
"There is something else I want to know, but I'll ask when you're feeling better."
"Ask now," I said.
He waited a minute, until I was breathing more regularly. "Does anyone here know who you are?"
I shook my head.
"You're sure?"
"There would be no reason for them to know. I don't look like Liza or act like her, and most people, like you, wouldn't expect me to come here after what happened. I love Liza with all my heart, but, as you probably noticed, she was a person who spent a lot of time thinking and talking about herself. I'm sure she bragged about Dad, but truthfully, I'm surprised you ever heard she had a sister."
"It came up once, in a conversation about the pros and cons of being involved with theater when your parents are. That's something Liza and I shared.
But, Jenny, don't you see, if I heard your name and finally made the connection, somebody else might." I suppose.
"Does Mike know?"
"I'm sure he doesn't." If Mike had figured it out, he wouldn't have lied to me about his relationship to Liza.
"It worries me," Brian continued. "Because if Mike knows, Paul knows-they're close. And Paul was totally obsessed with Liza, still is. If he finds out you're her sister, he might…" His voice trailed off.
"What?" I asked.
I thought he was going to answer, then he changed his mind. "I don't know. My imagination's working overtime."
"Brian, have you ever thought that Liza might have been killed by someone other than the serial murderer?"
"I guess everyone here looked at everyone else when we first heard about her death. But then we learned that the murder had the trademark of the serial killer who was working his way up the East Coast."
"Which doesn't mean anything," I replied. "Imitating the style of others is something theater people do very well."
"What do you mean?" he asked. "Do you suspect someone?"
"I'm mulling over the possibility."
Brian's face grew worried. "Jenny, I think you should leave."
"Not yet."
"Before anyone else figures out who you are."
"I can't. Not until the dreams stop."
"What dreams?" he asked.
I knew better than to say I was having psychic visions. "I keep dreaming of Liza. It's as if she is trying to tell me something."
His eyebrows drew together. His mouth got the same determined look as his mother's. "I'm trying to tell you something, with no as if. You need to get out of here."
I shook my head stubbornly.
"Listen to me, Jenny. Paul's room is like a shrine to your sister. Sometimes I'm not sure he knows she is dead. It's as if a switch suddenly flips inside his brain, and he can't tell real from unreal."
Brian detached a set of keys from his belt. "This is my master key," he said, pulling it off the ring. "It opens all the doors in the frat. This afternoon, when you're not rehearsing and everyone else is occupied, I'll send you on a fake errand. I want you to go to Paul's room and see for yourself. Second floor. His name's on the door."
I gazed at the brass key Brian dropped in my hand.
"No, it isn't ethical," he added as if he'd read my thoughts, "and I don't care. All I care about is you seeing what you're dealing with." He took my face in his hands. "Believe me, Jenny, I don't want you to go. New York is a long way from here. But I think you're taking big chances."
"I'm not ready to leave yet."
"This afternoon ought to make you ready." He let go and glanced around. "We'd better eat."
We gulped down our food and Maggie called everyone in. Brian returned my tray and his to the cafeteria, sending me ahead to the theater. I joined Tomas and Shawna at the back of a crowd filing into Stoddard. Too late I noticed that Mike was in front of them. I fussed with my backpack and pretended not to see him.