"I'm fine." The girl nodded. "Thanks, guys. I don't know who he is. I've never seen him before."

  "Her name is Margo. . . . " Josh began weakly.

  "My name is Jessica!" declared the girl Josh had grabbed.

  Josh was utterly confused. Somehow, he had grabbed the wrong girl. He looked back and forth among the hostile faces surrounding him.

  "I think I've made a terrible mistake," he began, haltingly. He scrutinized the girl's face. How could anyone look so much like Margo and not be Margo?

  "You certainly have made a mistake," James said, still gripping his arms from behind.

  "What's going on here?" said another female voice, this one full of concern. "Jessica?" she asked uncertainly.

  Josh turned to face the newcomers, and felt the color drain from his face.

  It was Margo. Again.

  Josh blinked his eyes quickly. He was seeing things. It was the only explanation. Here was a second girl in a full pink ball gown, with a shawl that shimmered like moonlight and a filmy veil floating like mist on her blond hair.

  "This is impossible. . . ." he began in a whisper. "I'm sorry," he said to Jessica, barely able to choke out the words. "I thought you were someone else."

  Harry, who had run over when he'd heard all the commotion, began lecturing him on how to act at other people's houses, but Josh could see nothing but the twin princesses in pink gowns.

  "Here's your shawl, Jess," Amy said, handing it to her. "And I found one of your pearl earrings on the ground, too."

  As Jessica took the pearl earring, Josh noticed that her mirror image wore smaller, shinier earrings.

  "Do you want to press charges, Jessica?" Harry asked.

  Jessica shook her head. "No," she said quickly. "I'm not hurt. Let's just forget it ever happened."

  "Yes, let's forget it," said Elizabeth. "Let's get out of here," she said, taking a boy's arm.

  Harry unceremoniously escorted Josh out of the garden and practically booted him into the street.

  Josh didn't argue. As he walked away from the mansion, he replayed the events of the last half hour in his mind, trying to make sense of it all. He had finally found Margo. In fact, he had found two of her. But neither one was her. It didn't make any sense.

  Perhaps he had found the real Margo as well, Josh told himself. The girl he first spotted near the dance floor had run from him. So she had to be Margo—didn't she?

  Josh's mind was going in circles. He tried to remember every detail of the last time he'd seen that first Margo. She had stopped at the small, latticework archway that led to the little courtyard with the fountain. Her face had been pale, and her earrings had flashed like stars as she spun around and disappeared through the arch.

  Josh stopped walking, focusing on the memory of that sparkle of jewels on either side of her face. The first Margo wore large, rhinestone earrings!

  "That was the real Margo," Josh said, convinced.

  It was an incredible coincidence that Margo would travel thousands of miles and come across the very town where her two look-alikes lived. What if it wasn't a coincidence? What if it was all part of some psychotic plan of Margo's? Could Margo be planning to somehow make use of the fact that Jessica and Elizabeth looked exactly like her?

  Josh felt his knees turn to jelly at the implications that were swimming through his brain. He wasn't sure of exactly what Margo was scheming, but one thing was certain—the twins Jessica and Elizabeth were in terrible danger.

  Chapter 11

  Winston had just finished changing Daisy's diaper late the next morning when the doorbell rang. He lifted the baby in his arms and scrambled toward the door, nearly tripping over the bag with the dancing hippopotamuses on it.

  "Hi, Winston!" said the girl from the day-care center when he opened the door. "Sorry to barge in on you like this, but I wanted to talk to you about Daisy."

  Winston was taken aback. He didn't remember having given this girl his address.

  "Can I come in?" she asked.

  Winston stepped aside to let her pass, and then followed her into the living room, neatly sidestepping the hippopotamus bag.

  "Uh, what can I do for you?" Winston asked as he motioned her to sit on the couch.

  As he did, he glanced around the room as someone might who was seeing it for the first time. A week ago, the sofa had been off-white. Now, it was a lot farther off. The white carpeting looked more like beige, and was littered with baby toys, the wet diaper he'd just removed, a pizza box, and the remains of Winston's last peanut-butter-and-sardine sandwich.

  His heart sank as he remembered a sobering reality—his parents would be home that very night. He sat on the other end of the couch, holding Daisy securely against his shoulder.

  "Winston, it's time to face the fact that Daisy's parents have abandoned her."

  "How could they do such a thing?" Winston asked, almost in a wail.

  "I don't know," the girl said. Then her eyes grew very cold and she said in a completely expressionless voice, "A lot of people do terrible things to children."

  Winston shivered.

  "Look, Winston. I know how difficult this is for you," she continued. "I can make it easier," she said. "I'll take Daisy to Social Services for you. The Project Youth center has a liaison in that office. We'll take care of everything for you. That way, you won't have to hand her over to strangers."

  Winston knew that the girl was right. It was time for him to face facts.

  He looked her straight in the eyes and was about to agree to her proposal, but something stopped him.

  "No," he said suddenly, surprising himself. "My parents will be back in town tonight. I think I'll wait until then before I take any action."

  For an instant, he thought he caught a flash of anger in the curly-haired girl's eyes, but it was gone before he was sure that he had even seen it.

  "All right, Winston," she said, a little too loudly. "If that's the way you want to play it, we'll give it a few more days. But you look as if you've been running yourself ragged. I bet you've hardly let Daisy out of your sight in a week. You've been so busy taking care of her that you probably haven't gotten a single other thing accomplished in days. Am I right?"

  "Well—"

  "That settles it," she said. "Go out now, get your shopping done, pick up your dry cleaning, visit a friend, or whatever. I'll stay here and take care of Daisy for a couple of hours, free of charge."

  "I don't think so—"

  "Winston, I am a professional day-care provider," she reminded him. "I'm not some psycho baby-killer."

  "All right," Winston said. He was a little uncertain, but he couldn't think of a single reason why he shouldn't take advantage of the offer. "If I don't get to the grocery store soon, Daisy and I will be eating her pacifier for dinner tonight. And it's time for her nap, so she's not likely to give you any trouble. I had her out kind of late last night, so she's pretty tired."

  Winston felt a stab of fear as he handed the baby over to the curly-haired girl with the oddly vacant eyes. But she cooed and cuddled Daisy as gently as Maria or Elizabeth would have, and he told himself that he was being paranoid.

  As Winston prepared to leave the house a few minutes later, he bent over to kiss Daisy on the forehead. "Bye bye, rug rat!" he said. "You take a nice, long nap for your new baby-sitter."

  Daisy smiled prettily and, with Margo's help, waved her tiny hand at him.

  "Goo-boo," she called.

  "I thought that dorky Egbert character would never leave!" Margo exclaimed as the door shut behind Winston.

  Margo held the baby up so that she was looking straight into Daisy's face. 'This is the first step," she told the child in a cold, expressionless voice. "Elizabeth loves you—but now you're mine to control."

  Daisy stared at her quizzically, cocking her head.

  "I know you're not as dumb as you act," Margo said to the baby.

  Daisy began to whimper.

  "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's sniveling babies," Margo said. "It's time for you to take a nap and stop bothering me."

  She shoved the baby under her arm, like a football, and carried her upstairs.

  Daisy was crying in earnest now. Margo raised her voice to be heard above the baby's wails. "Which room is it, brat?" she asked.

  Margo pushed open the nearest door. It was obviously a boy's room, but a large, white crib dominated it.

  Margo dumped the baby onto her back in the crib. "There!" she said coldly. "Now stop making all that blasted noise!"

  Margo bolted from the room, leaving the baby alone in the semidarkness. Daisy kept right on crying.

  A minute later, Margo was back. "You were supposed to shut up when I put you in bed, you little brat," she said, pounding her fists repeatedly against the side of the crib.

  With every wail, Daisy's face became redder. Margo laughed derisively at the way her weak little hands flailed in the air.

  "You thought you were going to have it all," she said, glaring down at her. "You thought you would have all these popular people caring about you. But that's not the way it happens when your parents leave you. It didn't happen that way for me, and it's not going to happen that way for you. I'll make sure of it."

  Daisy's wails turned to screams.

  "Don't you dare do this to me!" Margo demanded, raising her voice. "Stop that noise now!"

  Margo closed her eyes as one of her pounding headaches overwhelmed her. She grabbed the pillow from Winston's bed, and, shoving it against Daisy's twisted little face, instantly muffled the baby's desperate cries. Margo smiled.

  At that instant, the doorbell rang.

  Margo's eyes widened. Whoever it was must have heard the baby's cries.

  Margo pounded a fist against the side of the crib, then ran out of the room and down the stairs, pursued by the sounds of Daisy's strengthening howls.

  When Margo opened the front door, she felt the color drain from her face. Elizabeth Wakefield stood directly in front of her.

  "I, um, was just coming over to see if I could take care of the baby for Winston for a while," Elizabeth said haltingly, glancing past Margo toward the sound of Daisy's screams.

  For weeks, Margo had been preparing for the day when she would stand face-to-face with Elizabeth Wakefield. But she hadn't expected it here, so soon. For the first time in her life, Margo was speechless. She slipped past Elizabeth and bolted out of the house.

  Elizabeth stood in the doorway for an instant, uncertain about whether she should pursue the unsettling girl who had just run from Winston's house. But Daisy's heartrending screams made up her mind for her. She rushed inside and leaped up the stairs two at a time.

  A minute later, she stood in Winston's room, holding Daisy in her arms.

  "There, there, sweetheart," Elizabeth murmured soothingly. "Don't cry. Everything's going to be all right."

  As Daisy's screams quieted to whimpers, Elizabeth admitted to herself that the baby wasn't the only one who needed comforting. Elizabeth was still trembling from her meeting with the strange, curly-haired girl at the door. Where had she seen her before?

  For some reason, Elizabeth suddenly remembered the sweet smell of flowers in the private courtyard of Harry Minton's garden. In her mind, she saw her sister materializing in the arched entrance—like pink mist in the black, star-studded night—before dissolving silently into the surrounding darkness.

  Out of the darkness, an image from Elizabeth's recurring nightmare engulfed her in a cold wave of fear, just as it had in the small courtyard the night before. Her sister's blank, blue eyes stared at her wordlessly. In her hand, the brittle sunlight glinted off the surface of the cruel knife.

  Elizabeth gasped and held the baby closer. The girl at Winston's door had the same blue eyes.

  Elizabeth sat on the edge of Winston's bed, watching Daisy as she fell asleep. The doorbell rang, and Elizabeth jumped. For an instant, she was afraid that the curly-haired girl had returned. Then she shook her head, dismissing the thought.

  The doorbell rang again, and Elizabeth rose. Daisy stirred, so Elizabeth lifted her gently and carried her downstairs.

  Maria Santelli was at the door, holding a bag of groceries.

  "Elizabeth," she said, walking in. "I didn't expect to see you here. I ran into Winston downtown, and he told me he left the baby here with a sitter. Where'd she go?"

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to tell Maria everything, but she stopped herself. She didn't know for sure that the curly-haired girl had done anything wrong. She would tell Winston, certainly, but it wouldn't be right for her to spread rumors that could hurt somebody's reputation.

  "I, uh, dropped by a half hour ago to see if Winston needed any help with the baby," she explained. "Daisy didn't need two of us, so the baby-sitter, um, left."

  Maria jiggled the baby's foot and gave her a peck on the forehead.

  "When do you expect Winston back?" Elizabeth asked, trying not to sound anxious.

  "He should be here in half an hour or so," Maria said, shoving a stack of dirty dishes out of the way to clear a place on the counter for her grocery bag. "I told him I'd send the sitter home and start something to eat. I can watch Daisy while I fix lunch. There's no need for you to hang around, too."

  Elizabeth looked at her uncertainly. "I really need to talk to Winston," she said. "Maybe I should wait."

  "You can stay if you want to," Maria said, pulling a package of tortellini from the grocery bag. "In fact, you're welcome to have lunch with us—pasta salad. Or I can tell Winston to give you a call when he gets in."

  Maria opened a cupboard and selected a serving bowl, before turning back to Elizabeth. "Are you all right, Liz? You seem a little nervous."

  Elizabeth smiled weakly. "Oh, I'm fine. I'm just kind of tired," she said. She looked down at the yawning baby in her arms. "Daisy's not the only who stayed out late last night! I'll just put her back in her crib, and then I'll get going. But, Maria, please tell Win to give me a call when he comes home."

  "Are you sure you can handle it all by yourself?" Maria asked Winston as she hung the damp dishrag around the faucet and dried her hands on her jeans.

  "Piece of cake," Winston said, drying the last dish and stacking it with all the others. "We've now washed and dried every plate, bowl, and kitchen utensil the Egbert family owns—after spending the week setting a record for dirtying them. All I have to do before my parents get home is call in the National Guard for disaster-relief services in the living room, rent a bulldozer to clear away the baby toys in my bedroom, and hire a wrecking ball to demolish the whole house so we can start fresh. As I said, piece of cake."

  Maria laughed. "I'll take your word for it. Did you have a chance to call Liz? She really wanted to talk to you. She seemed upset."

  "Not yet," Winston admitted, "but I will."

  He trudged into the living room and sat down on the couch with a sigh. Maria sat beside him. "What's wrong, Winston? Is it Liz?"

  "Not exactly, but I think I know what she wants to talk to me about. And I know she's right. I can't go on like this. I'm going to have to give Daisy to someone official. I guess her parents aren't coming back."

  Maria put her hand on his arm. "I think you're right," she said quietly. "But I know how tough it is for you. Do you want me to come down to Social Services with you?"

  Winston shook his head. "No," he said. "A worker at the Project Youth day-care center said she'd take Daisy to the right people. I just have to get Daisy out of bed, collect her stuff, and drive her down there. And I feel like I should do it myself."

  Maria nodded. "I understand. You want to say good-bye to her. Actually, I'd like to say good-bye, too. I'll get her up from her nap and change her, while you start packing up all her things. Then you can take her to the day-care center."

  "Thanks," Winston said. He sighed heavily, stood up, and walked over to the entrance foyer, where the hippopotamus tote bag still sat in the center of the floor. He reached down to pick it up by its handles, realizing that he was actually going to miss it.

  Winston sat in his orange Volkswagen bug, staring forlornly at the front window of Little Darlings Day Care.

  He unlatched his seat belt, climbed out of the car, and circled it, feeling as if he were walking toward a firing squad. He opened the right-side door and slid into the backseat beside Daisy's car seat.

  "Hi there, rug rat. How's Uncle Winston's little girl?"

  Daisy smiled broadly. "Dah-dah!"

  Winston shook his head. "No, not Dah-dah. Win-ston. Can Daisy say 'Winston'?"

  "Dah-dah!"

  Winston wiped a tear from his face. "Okay," he said, biting his bottom lip. "I give up. You can call me Dah-dah if you want to."

  Daisy smiled, showing her tiny white tooth. Winston unbuckled the straps of the car seat, lifted the baby out of it, and held her against his chest.

  "I'm going to miss you, rug rat," he whispered, kissing her on the cheek.

  He backed out of the car and held her securely in one arm while he reached back in to grab the hippopotamus bag. Then he took a deep breath and walked slowly but resolutely into the day-care center.

  "Well, I guess that's about it," Winston said to the day-care girl. "I've written down her parents' name and address for you. Everything you'll need is in the bag."

  The baby-sitter smiled and held out her hands to take the baby, but her turquoise eyes still looked cold and blank to Winston. He kept Daisy against his shoulder, bouncing her gently the way she liked it.

  Winston looked at the curly-haired girl and felt a shudder pass through his body. But he was sure that his doubts were unfounded. After all, she was a trained professional. He would probably be reluctant to leave Daisy with anyone who was a stranger.

  "I guess that's it," he said again.

  "Except the baby," the girl prompted.

  "Be careful with her," Winston said. "She can creep along on the floor pretty fast, if you don't watch her carefully, and she sleeps—"

  The girl interrupted. "Don't worry, Winston. You can be sure I'll give her the kind of care she deserves. Besides, my shift here is over in a few minutes. I'll bring her over to Social Services right away."

 

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